Unquestionable Love: The Prequel
by CRMediaGal
Summary: The beginnings of an unconventional relationship between a professor and his student are tested by war, secrets, prejudice, and perseverance. Epic novel with angst, drama, and blossoming romance. Prequel to Unquestionable Love. HBP to Post-Hogwarts era.
1. Uncertain Changes

**A/N: Hello, everyone. _Unquestionable Love_ is back! :) **

**To my wonderful readers, I hope you are in for the long haul, because this will be quite a lengthy adventure, and considerably longer than its predecessor. It begins during _Half-Blood Prince_ and will progress through _Deathly Hallows_ to several years after the war, to give you an idea of the extensive timeline I'm covering. This story also takes considerable time to develop for Severus and Hermione relationship-wise, so, yes, an epically long story awaits. I hope that that excites you and that you'll stick it out. If you do, dear readers, I promise to do my damnedest to make it worth the investment.  
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******A few important notes: I will be faithful to the timeline of the last two books in some respects and differ from them greatly in other ways. You'll get a better idea of that as things progress, but something worth noting. Nothing sexual will happen until Hermione is closer to eighteen. **

******Expect: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance, some Fluff and, later, much-needed Smut. Rated M for later sexual and violent content.  
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**To new readers: I _strongly_ encourage you to read the original _Unquestionable Love_, which takes place many years after this prequel. This series, oddly enough, is not meant to be read in chronological order. If you start here, an important revelation that happens in the original will be for naught if you go to read that later on. So please start with _Unquestionable Love_ and then progress to the prequel.  
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**__****_Please don't forget to review as you read! Feedback encourages me to keep writing. Without your thoughts, it isn't worth sharing._** Special thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny, for all her immeasurable help.  


**Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Uncertain Changes**

Hermione Granger fumed as she stomped out of the Great Hall and made her way towards the dungeons, well ahead of her two closest friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. She didn't want to be within earshot once Ron started on about that irritable, flaky Lavender Brown. _Again_. Every word Ron uttered about that petty, popular, boisterous new girlfriend of his seemed to make its way to Hermione eventually, even if she wasn't around to listen to the foul git routinely sing her praises. She knew it was all meant to spite _her_ and hurt her even more.

They had only been dating about a week—Ron and Lavender, that is—but to hear of it stung the sixteen-year-old Hermione, nevertheless. The wound was still fresh, the image of that blasted kiss playing on repeat in her mind. After years of bantering, colorful arguments, and, only in the past year or so, innocent flirtations, Ron had left her shell-shocked and devastated. How could he not know of her feelings by now? Hadn't he felt the same about her? Or had she imagined all the times he smiled peculiarly at her, eyed her with a certain warmth, or paid her a rare, endearing compliment? How could the stupid prat not see what was right in front of his freckled face?

_Of course he can't see, Hermione!_ she reflected bitterly, huffing as she quickened her pace and lowered her face so as to not meet anyone's eyes. _He doesn't want you! He never wanted you! Why would Ron even look twice at you when there's _her_?_

Hermione whisked a few curls away from her face, not at all mindful of just how fast she was walking or of the people she was passing without a word, some of whom she knew. She ignored them. Her eyes—a warm, rich caramel, bright and flickering—dampened the further she strode. She quickly wiped at the tears threatening to fall. She wouldn't cry over him. He didn't deserve it. But then why was she so hurt?

_It'll pass, Hermione! For Merlin's sake, just let it go!_

As she reached the dungeons at last and entered the frigid Potions laboratory, not nearly as gloomy looking as it had been for the first five years of her schooling when the subject was taught by a very different professor, a realization befell the clever witch. She still had a good fifteen minutes to spare before class started, and she was the only student here. Even Professor Slughorn wasn't mucking about yet, and Ron and Harry wouldn't be along for several more minutes. The last thing the emotionally wrought girl wanted was for Ron to receive any satisfaction from seeing her tears. He'd know it was over him, and that was more than Hermione could bear.

_The girl's loo. Go and get yourself under some level of control!_

Hermione turned on her heel and dashed out of the room. She found the bathroom with ease and stumbled into its dimly lit lair before dropping her textbooks on the floor in a heap. She didn't even make it to the sinks or to a mirror to survey her distraught reflection. She simply stood in the middle of the entryway and lost her composure, her shoulders hunched, her chest heaving uncontrollably as she cried over the redheaded boy she had known for six years and thought she had grown to love.

_This is ridiculous!_ the rational part of her brain berated, but her heart wouldn't listen. _It was just a crush, Hermione! Get over it! It would never have worked out anyway. You never had a chance against someone like her! And since when have looks ever mattered to you? You're above and beyond this, Hermione Granger!_

But none of it did any good. All she could manage over the next five minutes was to let it all pour out of her and wipe at the countless tears with her sleeve. After several minutes, the weeping gradually subsided, until it was nothing but soft snivels and hitched breaths.

Hermione walked over to one of the sinks, ignoring her disorganized books for once, something she _never_ did. She peered up at her reflection in the mirror with a look of utter self-loathing.

For all intents and purposes, Hermione had never been a 'pretty girl.' Her chestnut curls were unnaturally wild and untamed, falling to the middle of her back in what had once been tangled knots. Her teeth had long been too large for her face, and her body, well, she had never taken much pride in that either. She was teased for being too skinny, for having pathetic excuses for breasts, and for not being 'girly' enough, whatever that meant. _I might as well have had the body of a young boy_, she thought, snorting out loud.

This year, however, gradual changes were emerging, most of which Hermione hadn't really taken much notice of; at least, in some respects. She certainly gave more attention to her hair these days; it was the main attribute that use to bring her relentless ridicule from some of the prettier girls in Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses. She never used magic to tame it, but now, at least, she could make her spirals softer and less frizzy. Still thick and somewhat wild, they were no longer unruly or entangled. She had never worn much makeup, but now attempted to wear _something_ on her face, such as a little lip gloss, or perhaps some foundation or blush if she felt the urge; however, she often stuck to the minimal. She saw little use in cosmetics and determined long ago that it mostly looked unnatural, especially on her.

_Therein lies the problem..._

Hermione hadn't paid attention to her blossoming figure that was starting to show clear signs of a young woman. She would be eighteen next year after all and enter her last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her maturity was starting to show. The contours of her body formed attractive curves at her shoulders, back, hips, and thighs. She certainly didn't look like 'one of the boys' anymore, and she counted that amongst the few blessings she possessed. Had anyone even noticed?

_Am I _that_ unattractive?_

Hermione frowned at the reflection in the mirror and scrunched up her nose, clearly displeased with the young Gryffindor that stared back at her. It was a rather emotionless stare and devoid of much feeling, only showing silent criticism. The tears had dried, and though her cheeks were still a bit flushed, no signs of lost composure remained.

Hermione sighed and spun around, turning away from the ghastly mirror at last. She gathered up her books from the ground and made her way back to the Potions lab, more resolute than ever.

As she strolled into the room, Ron and Harry were already throwing their supplies down. Hermione diverted her eyes from both of them. She was still on speaking terms with Harry, but refused to address Ron. She wasn't ready, and just the sound of his voice set her on edge. Normally, the three of them sat together, but today she had hoped to switch seats with someone else. She scanned the room but was out of luck. Most of her classmates were already situated in their usual spots. Groaning, she hesitantly sat down at their station in the far corner, well away from Ron, and resigned herself not to making eye contact.

Harry was the most visibly uncomfortable of the three. _His mates were just mad at each other_, he concluded at the beginning of the week, and needed to move past the awkwardness. Until then, he wasn't involving himself in their fight. They were both his friends. End of story.

Hermione relaxed a little once Slughorn set them to work on an elixir from their textbook, _Advanced Potion-Making_. Harry's version was unlike anyone else's, and when he drew it out of his bag and set it on the table next to Hermione, she cringed. She had been telling him to hand that book in for months, but her friend stubbornly refused.

Hermione had scanned the contents briefly when Harry wasn't looking. Elegant cursive appeared next to the margins on every single page, and she couldn't help but sense that she somehow recognized the writing; perhaps her mind was just playing tricks on her. Virtually the entire book was crossed out and written over, differing from the typed instructions to the potions they were attempting in class. There were even some spells written out by hand that Hermione had never heard of before, and they didn't sound at all pleasant. Most seemed questionable based on their descriptions alone and were probably unsuitable for teaching purposes.

Whatever the book was, Hermione concluded that it wasn't worthwhile material. Harry had literally cheated his way to the top of the class, a feat that unnerved her more than she'd ever admit to him. But more than that, she didn't trust whoever this 'Half-Blood Prince' was. He had claimed the book as his own, but she and her friends had no idea who he was, and could find no references to him anywhere.

Hermione had affirmed from her earliest days as a witch to always follow her textbooks. It was protocol, absolute, and the very best way to learn. Yet this Half-Blood Prince had written his own version of their entire textbook, and it was now in her friend's greedy hands. The fact that the book was never discarded and had managed to worm its way into Harry's possession was additionally unsettling. Harry and Ron disagreed.

"Of course they would!" she snarled under her breath, not realizing that Harry had picked up on her tone.

"You all right, 'Mione?" he whispered, while Ron was busy chatting to Neville. Neville was the fourth person at their table, and undoubtedly the most pitiful Potions student there ever was. Their former Potions instructor had attested to it enough over the years that it was now permanently engrained in everyone's minds.

"Fine, Harry," Hermione sniped. "Couldn't be better!"

Harry leaned back and eyed her over apprehensively. "No, you're not." He lowered his voice so Ron wouldn't overhear. "It's just a phase, 'Mione."

"I could care less who Ron's dating, Harry, _honestly!_"

"Erm, all right..." He quickly dropped the subject, but that didn't mean Hermione was through speaking.

"When are you going to turn that ruddy book in?"

"Not again, 'Mione." Harry turned away to chop a few ingredients, purposely avoiding her cold stare.

"Harry, it's _wrong!_ You're going to get caught—"

"There's more to this book than that, and you know it. Whoever this Half-Blood Prince is, I'm intrigued, all right? I can't help myself. We _need_ to find out who he is."

"We've looked everywhere, Harry. I'm out of ideas, and so are you. Time to turn it in."

"Hell no! And we haven't looked everywhere, 'Mione. I know you haven't exhausted all your resources yet, so don't start. You're still just as curious as I am."

"Don't you find it odd that this book just happened to slip right into your hands?"

"It's not _that_ peculiar, 'Mione," Harry stated calmly, having fought her on this point repeatedly for the past several months. "It was the last text available. Now it's mine, and _I'm not turning it in_."

Hermione lapsed back into silence, heaving her shoulders in defeat. She had been mechanically stirring her cauldron for some time now, without any regard to what she was doing. She blinked hard and tried to refocus her attention as Professor Horace Slughorn, a very heavyset man with a round, wrinkled face, drew closer to inspect their progress. His criticism could be firm at times, but he was a far cry from their previous Potions professor, and much friendlier at that—an absolute peach in comparison.

"Miss Granger?" Slughorn asked in puzzlement, as he stared down at her questionable work.

"Oh! Sorry sir," she replied, making note of her silly error. "I - I'm a bit distracted today."

That got Ron's attention. He stared over at her with a less than friendly regard.

"I would imagine, my dear. You forgot three valerian roots. You need fourteen altogether."

"I'll start again."

Hermione hurriedly extinguished the fire beneath her cauldron with her wand and proceeded to empty the contents, clean her cauldron, and begin brewing the elixir again, while Slughorn meandered away to another table. She knew her teacher's befuddlement was justified. Despite Harry's knack for cheating, Hermione was still his brightest student, and not surprisingly so.

"You got off easy," Neville snickered, as he stirred his potion with his stirring rod. Hermione could see the contents were turning green, which was not a promising sign. "If Snape were here, you'd be ridiculed till the end of class."

"Oh, I'm sure I would," she grumbled back, not looking up from her cauldron.

"The greasy git," Ron snorted, not really wanting to enter any conversation that included Hermione, but unable to help himself. Snape was a frequent topic of conversation in Gryffindor House, and particularly in their circle. Harry and Neville willingly joined in.

"I feel like I'm actually learning for a change," said Harry with a twinge of bitterness in his mocking tone. "At least Slughorn's _instructive_ and doesn't just degrade everyone."

Ron nodded. "Why do you suppose Snape wasn't in class yesterday? The bat never misses class. He's been wanting to teach D.A.D.A. for ages. You'd think he'd _never_ miss the opportunity to demonstrate a hex on the Gryffindors when the opportunity presents itself!"

"Probably running off to converse with his old war buddies," Harry offered back with a clenched jaw.

Hermione piped up very quietly from her spot in the corner, "Harry, you don't know that."

Everyone paused what they were doing and glanced over at her in surprise. Even Neville seemed relatively shocked by her remark.

"He was a Death Eater, 'Mione," Harry shot back rather prickly, making Hermione stir the contents of her cauldron faster, "and regardless of what Dumbledore believes, he's _still_ a Death Eater! Just look at him! I don't trust him at all, and I never will. You shouldn't either."

"I never said I trusted him, Harry, and, as a matter of fact, _I don't_. Not entirely anyway, but I don't mistrust him as much as you. I don't think anyone does. I know he's a miserable louse and treats you badly, but he _did_ save your life, remember? You two have never gotten along—"

"That's because Snape never took a liking to Harry from the beginning," Ron interjected, raising his voice at her. "He was never even given the chance! Snape hates everyone but those in his own house, and he's a bastard of a teacher! He doesn't teach us, he just gripes and insults us every chance he gets. Even _you're_ doing better in Potions now that Snape's not teaching the subject, 'Mione. Admit it!"

"That's not the point, Ron!" Hermione reacted less collectedly than she wanted and threw down her stirring rod, narrowing her eyes. "I think you both sound completely deranged for claiming that Snape's a less than qualified teacher! If either of you had paid any attention in Potions the past five years, you might have learned a thing or two from the man and gotten better marks!"

"Yeah, like _that_ would ever happen," Ron grumbled irritably, egging her on.

"Snape may very well be a bastard, Ron, and I don't like him either, but he's brilliant at the subject, and you both sound like idiots for constantly trying to belittle an instructor who's far more skilled at it than any of us will ever be. Let it go!"

_How had they even gotten on to this topic of conversation? Arguing over Snape, of all people, and Hermione defending him? What the bloody hell?_

The troubling thought seemed to cross everyone's mind at the same time, and the four of them quickly returned to their individual cauldrons, not wanting to bring up the wizard in question again. Having a regular class with that dark, snarky man was unnerving enough. Discussing him further, outside of the subject, felt like a ridiculous waste of time to them all.

When class was dismissed, Hermione still wasn't feeling any better. In fact, if anything, she felt worse. She was worn out from the private crying spell she'd had, and even managed to get into another heated argument with her friends. And over Professor Snape, at that.

_Ugh! Of all the topics to have an argument about! Good grief!_

Harry, Ron and Neville recommenced their conversation about the unpopular Slytherin once class was over, taking bets over why he was absent the previous day; Hermione pressed ahead, not wanting to linger and listen anymore. She may not have liked the professor much, but even she wasn't willing to stoop so low and call him a dunce.

Anyone who was anyone at Hogwarts knew just how skilled Severus Snape was, no matter how universally disliked he may be amongst the students and staff. The wizard was a genius at Potions, there was no mistaking that, and proved equally brilliant as their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year. Hermione and her friends had been on the receiving end of the wizard's magic on more than one occasion, and the result was terrifying.

Severus Snape had, without a doubt, the quickest reflexes Hermione had ever seen and, though Ron and Harry might willfully challenge him to a duel out of pure spite, Hermione wasn't that thick. Not even Neville, who received some of the most brutal verbal instruction under Snape's teaching tactics, would dare attempt such a crazy idea. No one wanted to challenge Severus Snape. If they were dense enough to try, they'd wind up as an inanimate object...or dead.

Hermione remained in a foul mood the rest of the afternoon and went to bed earlier than usual that night, not lounging or doing her homework in the Gryffindor common room as she normally would have done. Ron and Lavender would be there anyhow, and those were the very _last_ two individuals she cared to encounter.

Hermione curled up underneath her covers and cried noiselessly into her pillow, berating herself yet again for sobbing like a pathetic tart over something so trivial. Ron wasn't hers and, as his recent actions proved, he had never really had an interest in her in the first place. Not in the bushy-haired, buck-toothed 'know-it-all' who could hardly be considered the equivalent of sexiness...

Tomorrow, she and her friends had Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Snape and, secretly, Hermione hoped their wicked instructor would be present, just so she might chance the man demonstrating a curse or two on the ginger that was causing her so much pain. At the least, she could get some satisfaction out of seeing Ron blasted against the wall or flipped upside down. As the devilish image danced in her head, a faint smile drew across Hermione's mouth, and she drifted off to sleep with a purring Crookshanks at her side.

* * *

Master Severus Snape, the man so many feared and loathed unequivocally, stumbled along the shadowed corridors, every so often gripping the cold, stone walls for balance. He had no idea what time it was, but he suspected the Headmaster would still be up and about, or, at the very least, sense his approach.

Severus was a prideful man, but tonight he could barely walk straight, let alone draw his shoulders back or keep his head held high. He hitched several painful breaths but kept going, catching view of the unsightly gargoyle at the end of the hallway as he rounded the corner; it was the entrance to the Headmaster's office. _Albus Dumbledore_.

"Damn him!" the dark wizard cursed like a snake under his breath. "Damn the man!"

Severus advanced down the passageway, his billowing black robes rippling softly along the floor. Everything about him was somber, reserved, unyielding, and intimidatingly strong, and yet, tonight he was obviously in some measure of pain. With the chilly November night on his side and no students or staff members mucking about, Severus could let down his guard, if only a little, before convening with Dumbledore.

It had been another night of 'torture and be tortured.' One night had poured into the next for the last several months. This winter evening hadn't been as excruciating as the past two nights, which had left Severus entirely unfit to teach, without all his obnoxious students ogling at him like a fish. He never missed a day of instruction, but he simply couldn't take the risk after the sheer amount of agony he had endured from the Dark Lord.

By now, however, it was relatively all the same. Severus endured torment, as he had virtually all his life, and took it with a grain of salt. Pain was his company; his constant companion. He hardly questioned when it would end anymore, for it never had since he was a child. One terrible misfortune led to another, stringing together the tattered contents of a most unhappy life that left Severus Snape bitter, and with a very sour taste in his mouth.

Severus clutched his left arm as he halted before the gargoyle. Why the old man wouldn't let him pass without uttering the password tonight was more unnerving to him than usual, inflaming his already angry temper. He drew up straight, wincing from the lingering trembles resulting from the curses he received several times that night, and held his head so that his long locks—straggly, black and less greasy than usual—could no longer conceal his pale face.

"Pineapple strudel," he muttered under his breath, and the gargoyle made of stone sprouted to life and stepped aside. A staircase presented itself, and Severus made his way up the steps as swift and silent as a panther, his personal injuries no longer perceivable.

When he saw Dumbledore's closed door, he let out an exasperated hiss. Even though Severus himself could sense that the aged wizard knew he was coming, the man still had the audacity to make him wait.

_After everything I've done, open the bloody door!_

Severus was clearly in no mood to play these trivial games that his Headmaster, he suspected, rather enjoyed. He was tired, irritated, and in a great deal of pain.

He sighed wearily and knocked on the door, waiting to be let in like a whimpering dog with his tail between his legs. Severus cursed for allowing himself to be degraded to such a lowly level of existence, something he lamented quite often when he was alone.

"Enter," came Dumbledore's alert voice within.

Wasting no time, Severus burst into the circular room, displaying his usual mask that camouflaged the man underneath. The hard, severe outlines of his face could make even the jolliest person cower in fear and those eyes... Black, and, unlike in most cases, they were _not_ 'the window to a man's soul.' They were so far gone and devoid of emotion most of the time, his feelings shrunk and beaten and sucked away, as if by a vacuum. His demeanor was always frigid and unpardonable to those unfortunate enough to cross his path, and tonight was no exception as he glared solemnly at the Headmaster, the man who seemed to forever hold Severus's puppet strings in the palm of his hands.

In contrast, Professor Dumbledore was Severus's opposite in every manner of speaking. There were the more obvious physical differences: the long, silver beard that fell below his waist; the whimsical robes he wore, such as tonight's crimson-red and matching hat that towered several feet in the air; and the moon-shaped spectacles at the bridge of his crooked nose that, behind their glass, featured a pair of bright blue eyes. He was ethereal when he moved, tall and thin in stature but slightly shorter than Severus, and, at present, he was standing in the middle of his office and stroking his phoenix, Fawkes, seated on a high perch next to his desk.

"Severus," he offered pleasantly, chancing a peculiar glance at the dark wizard; Severus was standing at a considerable distance with his hands latched behind his back.

"Albus."

"I trust I don't need to inquire where you have been this evening."

Severus became informal, showcasing a glimpse of the closeness and long-standing relationship the two shared. "No, Albus."

"Very well then."

Dumbledore finished brushing Fawkes' chest. The illustrious bird let out a satisfied squawk and ruffled its feathers as a form of thanking its master. Dumbledore gave Severus his full attention, not at all unsettled by the man in black's piercing glare. Instead, he smiled almost mischievously.

"You are hurt."

A flicker of something strange passed through Severus's eyes, before he recovered, a muscle in his jaw protruding at the old wizard's discovery. "It's nothing."

Professor Dumbledore shook his head slowly, still eying the professor up and down. His blue eyes narrowed and his mouth remained slightly curled. "What news do you bring?"

"Nothing particularly of importance. Matters you already know. The Dark Lord's forces are moving. They have already secured the help of more giants, and it won't be long before the Dark Lord employs other creatures to his side. He wouldn't elaborate on his plans this evening. Tonight was another more _casual_ affair."

Severus' elongated fingers unconsciously withdrew and coiled, but he quickly drew them into fists at his back, determined not to let them shake. It was difficult for anything to pass by Dumbledore's notice, but if he had witnessed the slight shift in Severus's arms, the old man chose not to acknowledge it.

"Then you did not get any more information yet on Voldemort's plans?"

Severus instantly flinched at the name, but another person wouldn't have picked up on it. Severus loathed the name. It didn't cause him any physical pain to hear, but, mentally, that was another matter. He clenched his jaw and blinked hard. "No, I have not."

Dumbledore sighed and turned away, lost in his thoughts as his luminous eyes scanned the room. The walls on the lower level of his office contained hundreds of books. The upper level, visible from where Severus stood, had towering glass windows that looked out onto pitch darkness. Severus took note of the clock just off to his right. A quarter past two.

The awareness of the time seemed to cause a reaction in Severus's body. A brutal wave of exhaustion overtook his senses, and his eyelids became heavy. He had been up now for well over twenty-four hours and had only managed a few hours of uninterrupted sleep the night before. He was never able to sleep long and could go days without the practice, if necessary. Yet after so many nights this week of being summoned, thereby keeping him awake to avoid the nightmares that would surely follow, Severus's body was finally caving in to what it so desperately craved. Without so much as a 'goodnight,' the Potions Master turned to leave, his cloak sweeping the air as he made his way to the door.

"Is that all, then?"

Severus's shoulders stiffened. The question was candid enough, but the undertone wasn't. After nearly two decades of dedicated service to Dumbledore and to the school that, for so many years, had been his sanctuary, after the countless strides he had made to ensure the safety of Lily Potter's son, he _still_ wasn't trusted...

Severus's scowl deepened, a look his elder couldn't see, but then he thrashed his robes around—all rather elegantly despite his ugly temper—and stared the Headmaster down with everything he had. As was usually Dumbledore's response, Severus didn't receive so much as a flinch.

"That is all," Severus replied, drawling out the three words very slowly for the aged wizard to grasp. _This conversation is over_.

Dumbledore conceded, as if reading the tired man's mind, but surveyed Severus carefully first, before nodding to him as a form of dismissal. Severus lingered another few seconds, staring hard at his master before taking his leave, exiting as briskly as he had come.

Severus's mind was mangled and distracted by many disturbing thoughts as he descended the staircase and made his way towards his private quarters. They were now on the first floor of the castle instead of in the dungeons, an unpopular dwelling that had been both his private and teaching grounds for a decade and a half. His personal quarters weren't far, and he could sense his aching limbs propelling him faster towards the welcoming relief of his bed.

Then Severus heard something, and his inattentive mind went into action mode like a switch. He blinked and listened for the sound again. He could detect soft noises not far from where he had ceased walking. As he drew closer, the sounds became more pronounced. Lots of sniffling and heavy breathing and, was that crying?

_Insolent twit!_

Severus sneered as he rounded the corner, prepared to confront whatever student was out of bed at this hour, wandering the halls like a sniveling idiot. The corridor was dark and deserted except for a lone figure curled up on a stone bench beneath one of the stained glass windows.

At first, the professor couldn't make out who the person was, until he stepped closer, hanging back enough so as not to be noticed. Severus rather enjoyed the element of surprise when sneaking up on his blasted students, catching them off their guard when they broke school rules. At least it was _one_ particular enjoyment he could partake in throughout his otherwise miserable days at Hogwarts.

The veiled Potions Master progressed further, and by the time he reached whoever was in his grasp, he stopped. Traces of long, thick curls were illuminated by the light of the windows, falling down to the top of her head. Female. Older. Not a fourth or fifth year student. She had her head buried between her knees, which were propped up on the bench, and her arms were wound tightly around her legs for support. She was wearing matching blue robes and slippers and was sobbing quietly as she clung to the only thing she had for solace: herself.

"Miss...Granger?" Severus whispered, eying her silhouette through narrowed irises.

Hermione's head shot up and an alarmed gasp escaped her lips. She didn't move for several seconds as she tried to process the voice on the edge of the shadows. She could see only an extremely pallid face and cross expression. _Very cross_.

"Professor!" she peeped when she came to the realization of who was there. She leaned back against the stone wall, an act that forced Severus to roll his eyes.

He stepped forward into the moonlight. The faint, bluish glow seeping in through the windows painted his skin but barely touched his robes. For a moment, he didn't appear human to the distrustful Gryffindor. Then she saw glimpses of those dark, unsettling eyes that held no color, and the equally stark hair that fell in curtains around his cheeks, as well as the long, hooked nose that defined his visage. And then there was that infamously fierce stare he projected to everyone, personifying without words that he neither cared for anyone, nor wished for their company.

Hermione hardened at that foreboding look and dared not move. She could only stare back, waiting for whatever harsh sentence would be her punishment.

"What are you doing out of bed at this hour?" Severus growled, his voice both low and somewhat dangerous.

"I - Well..."

His baritone vocals did not soften, nor did his penetrable stare. "Yes, Granger?"

"I - I was hungry... I never ate dinner, so I thought—"

"You thought you'd wander down to the kitchens in search of a late night snack?"

Hermione tensed her shoulders at the mockery in his insinuation, even though it was true, and her reaction became visible to Severus as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Her cheeks were red and wet, and she was biting her lip, a trait she often displayed when she was nervous or even guilty. Severus had taken notice in her first year, and, apparently, it had never stopped. He willed himself not to roll his eyes again.

"Yes, sir. Like I said, I was hungry."

"Then, pray, how did you come here?"

His tone was cool and aloof, not seemingly at all interested in her answer, but it still caught Hermione by surprise. She expected to be reprimanded straightaway. What did Professor Snape care that she was out of bed?

"I - Um, well..."

"Speak quickly, Granger," Severus snapped, growing more aggravated. "I haven't got all night."

Hermione's lips tightened. "I came down here to make my way to the kitchens but started thinking and, well, I just sort of ended up here. I - I'm sorry, Professor."

"The fact that your stomach is growling and that you have an urgent need to sob are not legitimate excuses for wandering the corridors at night, Granger. After six years, I would think Hogwarts' rules would be cemented into your head."

Hermione lowered her sad eyes. "I - I know, sir. I'm sorry."

"I know you _know_. What you and your friends seem to lack is the capacity to follow what you know. Get back to the Gryffindor common room, Granger. _Now_."

Hermione startled as if he had advanced on her. Her eyes searched the dark wizard's face for the wrath, the malice, the hunger to punish her on a whim. Shockingly, she couldn't find any of that, but then she had also noticed how utterly spent he was. Severus Snape always appeared worn out and unhealthy, but tonight was a greater example. Hermione could understand now why he had missed class. He looked terrible and not nearly as threatening as he normally would.

Then her stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the stillness. Hermione rubbed it gingerly and peered up at him, still half reluctant to move. Severus heard the noise but showed no sympathy.

"When you choose not to eat, you reap the consequences. To bed, Granger. I won't tell you again."

"But I— Um, yes, sir."

Hermione stumbled to her feet, wrapping her arms tightly around herself for warmth. A puff of her excited breath caught the cold night air as she spun around to take her leave.

"Granger," Severus called to her, in a frosted tone that made her stop in her tracks. Hermione turned around, but he could not make out her face in the shadows. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for your folly."

Hermione's mouth dropped, and Severus caught a glimpse of it in the bluish outline of her face. "_Fifty?_ But _sir_—"

"Did you think there wouldn't be repercussions for your stupidity?" Severus snarled back with a bite that stung the atmosphere. "I suggest you run along to your dormitory quickly before I deduct further points from your house! _Off with you!_"

Hermione jumped, but spun on her heel and ran down the corridor. Severus listened to her slippers pattering softly along the stone floors until they died away. His powerfully acute senses told him she was headed back to Gryffindor Tower without making any detours along the way.

_Minerva will have a hernia when she gets wind of this._

Satisfied, though more weary than ever, Severus made his way towards his own chambers at last. His hands were still trembling, and his body ached to a near intolerable level, but the burning sensation coursing through the pale skin beneath his frock coat was at least starting to abate. He ignored treating the curses for the time being in favor of his bed, as he slipped into the familiar privacy he so craved.

Not even bothering to shower or even undress, Severus collapsed onto his four-poster bed, his cloak spread out over the emerald silk covers as he closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain. Despite his usual bouts of insomnia, Severus drifted off to sleep with ease tonight, but not before he had a final conscious thought: _Hermione Granger, that insufferable know-it-all._

He had penned that definition of her years ago. The trio, Granger, Potter, and Weasley, who had given him so much grief and headaches since they first arrived, were almost always together. So, why was she alone? And why had she been crying?

Severus let out a faint growl. It was none of his business, and he didn't really care why his student was sobbing, only that her tears were heavy. For a split second, when he stared into the miserable depths of her eyes, he saw traces of his bitterly unhappy seventeen-year-old self.

_As if I could forget._

Severus groaned and willed himself not to think. He was exhausted and had no energy to ponder such matters, nor did he wish to. Hopefully, he concluded before falling asleep at last, Hermione Granger had learned her lesson. Then again, after six years of dealing with _her_...

_Probably not._

* * *

**A/N #2: If you miss the girls, you can still track the family and interact with them on Tumblr. :) There is also additional commissioned art work from _Unquestionable Love_ worth checking out on my Profile. On we go!  
**


	2. A Demonstration and Awakening

**A/N: I'm glad to see many familiar readers again, and receiving your enthusiasm is equally wonderful, truly; _I thank you!_ My brain fart on the age factor has been rectified. Alas, it won't change the course of our story, however, or the timeline of when Severus and Hermione will _finally_ get together. **

**I will be torturing you all for quite some time before it happens... ;) Lets have some fun. _Much thanks to my beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: A Demonstration and Awakening**

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was poorly lit as usual. Ever since Professor Snape had taken over the post at the beginning of term, the atmosphere had changed dramatically. The windows were always shut, letting in no natural light whatsoever; the only source of illumination came from the torches hanging along the walls, which only made the entire space more unnerving. It certainly befitted the subject matter, as did the gruesome pictures of mutilation and torture that lined the front of the classroom. Hermione's eyes had adjusted to the low level of lighting, at least, but the general atmosphere still made her drowsy on occasion; Harry and Ron, more so.

Hermione was more than a little embarrassed that Professor Snape had witnessed her messy episode, but, for the moment, no one else was aware that it was_ she_ who lost them fifty house points, thereby giving their rival Slytherins an undesired lead. Hermione froze when she heard her classmates chewing over the lost points, trying to figure out amongst themselves who had lowered their score by so many. Harry and Ron weren't as concerned, given the circumstances of more important things happening in the wizarding world, but Ron was already in a foul mood, and learning of this bad news did little to lighten it.

"What did the stupid git do to get us knocked down by fifty points?"

"Who knows," said Harry, as he and Ron took a seat directly across from Hermione in the next aisle. "I'm sure Snape's got something to do with it though. What do you think, 'Mione?"

Hermione hadn't heard them. She was too preoccupied with her own thoughts and still half mortified by her emotional display the previous night; or earlier that morning, rather. She was also incredibly tired, not having gotten the proper amount of sleep she had hoped for.

"'Mione?" Harry pressed.

Hermione startled in her chair but turned to the boys who were watching her curiously. Ron, however, was scowling, which additionally did nothing for her nerves. "Sorry, what?"

"The points?" Ron grumbled. "Haven't you seen the house points?"

"Erm, no..."

"We're down by_ fifty_, putting us well behind Slytherin," Ron griped, annoyed that she didn't know. "It's taken us forever to catch up to 'em, and now it's going to take just as long to move back up."

"Oh, rubbish, Ron." Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Don't be overly dramatic. It's just fifty points."

"Well, Snape hasn't exactly been making it easy for us to get them in the first place, has he?"

"No, but so what? He never does."

Harry's green eyes intensified, nearly glowing. "You all right, 'Mione? You look pretty awful."

Hermione sighed and reached for her textbook. "I'm fine, Harry. I didn't sleep much last night."

"Oh." Harry suspected why, but wasn't about to push the subject; not in front of Ron, anyway.

"_Fifty points!_" Ron continued, not paying her commentary any mind. "For what? What did we do this time?"

"It - It wasn't you or anyone else..."

Both boys turned to Hermione again, their brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Hermione glanced over at her friends and rather sheepishly bit her lower lip. "It was me who lost us our house points. I - I'm sorry."

"_You?_" was all Ron could manage, too stunned.

"Snape caught me in the corridor last night— I mean, this morning. I wasn't trying to get caught. I - I just wanted something to eat and needed some air."

"_You_ lost us those house points?"

Ron's blue eyes were growing hazy at this information and Hermione's, in turn, flashed unnaturally. "In light of what's happening, Ron, house points should be the least of anyone's concerns, don't you think?"

Ron mumbled something under his breath that she couldn't hear, not that she wished to know. Undoubtedly, it had to do with her and wouldn't be to her liking. Harry was indifferent, but seemed in agreement with her valid point.

Suddenly, and without warning, Severus Snape came charging down a stone staircase at the front of the room that led to his office. His enigmatic, dark form descended rather elegantly, not matching the deep-seated grimace on his thin mouth. Hermione could detect as well as anyone else that the professor did not look well; but then again, he never did.

The circles under his eyes were heavyset and more like bruises than lines, and the black eyes were empty, blank in comparison to the anger he bore. He didn't need to address the class to get them to quiet down; his mere presence took care of that on its own. He stepped to the front of the class and flicked his wand madly in the air. White writing emerged on a chalkboard nearby, spelling out their task for that day's lesson: nonverbals. They had been thoroughly investigating these for weeks, and though it was a topic the students thought the professor was beginning to exhaust, no one dared to complain.

"Pair off," Severus ordered them firmly, "and your reflexes better have improved since last week's pathetic performances."

The students sprang into action, leaping out of their seats to start practicing. Hermione reluctantly partnered with Neville, although, since Hermione, Harry and Ron had formed Dumbledore's Army, he had improved tremendously, so it was of little concern.

Throughout the practice session, Severus slithered his way about the room in his usual fashion, snarking repeatedly at their "foolish blunders," and showcasing a more visible frustration than normal. Hermione felt a puzzling sensation during the course of the class. More than once, she sensed those ebony eyes scrutinizing her, as if focusing in on her more particularly than anyone else; or was she just imagining it because she was already embarrassed? She certainly wasn't in the best frame of mind anyway, and was too easily distracted by the unhappy thoughts about Ron and Lavender that had been pressing on her all week long.

Hermione's suspicions about their instructor only made her more self-conscious. More than once, she fumbled with her blocks, a feat which stunned Neville. Hermione was sharp and virtually always on target, but today she was making errors, albeit very minor ones, but it was all very unlike her. She hated that Professor Snape had caught her so exposed and vulnerable just hours ago, and it was now getting the best of her. Even her best friends hadn't seen much of that side to her, and she couldn't account for the magnitude of just how debilitating it was.

_Get a hold of yourself, Hermione! Forget about it!_

"Miss Granger!" came that dangerous growl she knew so well, though she wasn't one of the students Severus normally lost his temper with. "That is the fourth time now that you've blocked so carelessly! Where is your head?"

The remark led to several curious reactions, and many students ceased practicing to stare outright at the smartest student in the room, making her blush and long for Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Harry and Ron, too, were ogling at her, skeptical about her behavior.

"Sorry sir," she whispered, staring at the floor just as Severus reached her side. His intimation was like magic in itself, stifling and pressing in on her from all sides.

"Your apologies are no excuse and won't come in handy when you are attacked by something far more powerful than _Stupefy!_ After all the careless adventures you, Potter and Weasley have been on, I would think that would be obvious!"

"I - I know, Professor," she stammered, twisting her fingers nervously around her wand. "I'm sorry—"

"Quit apologizing and block! _Again!_"

The bite to his orders made Hermione jerk, but she quickly raised her wand and prepared herself as Neville reluctantly attempted to stun her again. This time, there was no hesitation or dazed expression. Her reflexes were swift, and she sent the spell shooting back at Neville, who only just managed to stop it and looked away weakly.

"Again!" Severus commanded with a dark sneer. "And something more _challenging_, Longbottom, if you can manage it."

By now, a majority of the students were drawing closer, including Harry and Ron. It wasn't often that Professor Snape actually encouraged his students to fight, even if it was in a roundabout manner. Hermione and Neville were equally stunned and unsure, glancing from each other to their formidable teacher and back again.

"_Ex – Expelliarmus!_" Neville tried and failed miserably.

The lack of power to his command and the magic that issued from his wand barely reached Hermione, and she blocked it with ease. She heard the deep rumble in the back of Snape's throat and eyed him sideways. The infuriated expression on his face was menacing and anticipated, but it still managed to frighten her.

As Neville's face turned white, Severus crossed the room in just three or four steps and towered over the Gryffindor, who hunched his shoulders and tried unsuccessfully to back away. "You insolent dunderhead!" he growled, his voice louder than usual, with a hint of hysteria that was barely decipherable, but Hermione's ears caught it. "_Expelliarmus?_ Is that the best you can do after six years, Longbottom?" Not waiting for the boy to answer, Severus stepped into his student's personal space, and Neville nearly tripped over his own feet to move back. "Get out of my way! You're a waste of my efforts!"

To Hermione's utter horror, the wizard in black faced her head on and moved his tall, lean frame into a dueling position, much like a panther crouching gracefully before it attacks its prey. She froze.

Wasn't she just musing the other day how she never, ever wanted to have to square off against Professor Snape in a duel? It seemed as though her classmates, Harry and Ron amongst them, were equally leery and uncertain about what was going on; however, intrigue took over their apprehensions when they saw Severus's stance, his wand at the ready, and those unpardonable eyes that were fixated on their target without so much as a wince.

"Do not lose your focus, Miss Granger," the dark figure across the room purred dangerously, "for I will not go so easy on you."

The hairs at the back of Hermione's neck rose. She gripped her wand tighter, but her hand was unsteady. Before she could even make sense of what was happening, the professor hurled a dozen hexes at her simultaneously.

"_Diffindo!_"

Hermione knew the Slytherin master was quick; however, being on the receiving end of those remarkable skills, his swiftness, precision, and the absolute power of his magic shocked her to the core. She reacted and sent the first few spells back, but more were still headed her way. She managed to block them but had no time to offer a counter incantation. One after the next, she only just obstructed what was being unleashed upon her. There was no time to decipher what the spells were, but she gathered that Professor Snape was no longer issuing anything out loud for the students to hear. They were all nonverbals. It was an overwhelming operation and took the sort of proficient expertise that only the greatest wizards, such as Dumbledore, could apply.

Throughout the ordeal, Hermione managed to block better than most, but couldn't send anything back at him. It was all too fast, even for her. _This is ridiculous!_ she griped internally. Hadn't she encountered countless dangers with Harry and Ron over the years and proved more than capable of casting and blocking?

Hermione was relieved when the demonstration that she was unwillingly led into ended. She sent the final jinx back at Snape, which he stopped with a mere inward turn of his arm, and that was all. The class was staring at both of them in dumbfounded silence, although several Slytherins were snickering happily. A few actually clapped and only one blonde boy at the back kept his head down, not paying much attention to the action at all.

Hermione suddenly realized that she was breathing hard and was physically spent from this trial. Her eyes were enlarged as she stared unreservedly. She had just dueled with Severus Snape and, surprisingly, could still feel her body. And it was all intact.

Snape's stance had changed. He was twirling his wand around his fingers and standing straight as a pillar, his nose slightly turned up with an unreadable expression. The eyes were not as angry as before, and he was hardly smug or arrogant about the impressive magic he'd just unveiled before everyone. But, for a split second, a flicker of a challenge crossed the blackness in his eyes, catching Hermione off guard. She instantly reacted by lowering her wand, almost losing her footing when she saw, or so she thought, her professor give a quick, disappointed frown.

"In the future," Severus drawled casually, as if nothing had happened, "you will _all_ block faster, cast less chaotically, and be more mindful of your surroundings." He gave Hermione a cold stare that sent a chill down her spine. "Your techniques are sloppy, at best."

* * *

"I can't believe you dueled with Snape! I'm jealous as all hell. _I'm_ the one who's always wanted to have a proper go at him!"

"Harry, you already did! And look where it landed you!"

"So what? I'd take detention for the rest of the year to have another chance at hexing the foul git."

"Honestly, Harry, you don't know what you're saying. He only tried to jinx you once. Not with me! It was terrifying, like when we were in the Department of Mysteries last year... I - I thought for sure I wouldn't be able to block them all. You should have seen his face."

"Oh, I saw it, all right! He looked like he was going to devour you for dinner. Literally." A short pause later, "I'm sorry."

"I'm over it. I was pretty shaken up afterwards, but I'm fine now. I - I just couldn't concentrate properly, that's all."

"You haven't been focusing much at all lately..."

"Oh, shove off, Harry!"

"Well, it's true. I told you, it's probably just a phase, 'Mione."

"Even if it is, I don't care! He can date whoever he likes; it means nothing to me either way."

"Erm, all right."

Another short pause and the turning of a page, Hermione spoke again. "So what did he think of Snape's demonstration?"

"Don't really know, to be honest. Ron was pretty much speechless like the rest of us, 'Mione."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"I assure you that he witnessed your _mad skills_ if that's what you're getting at."

"Oh, rubbish! Don't tease me, Harry. I fumbled through that demonstration and you know it. Snape made his point. We're far out of his league."

"I wouldn't say that. And you sent the jinxes back at him, at least."

"Yeah, you have a point, but I still performed terribly."

"Better than anyone else in the class could! Even _I_ probably would have been too shocked to react as quickly as you did. Snape's a bastard."

"Well, I just hope next time he chooses someone else to make an example of! I much prefer Snape picking on _you_ than me."

"Fine by me. I hate him equally; the feeling's mutual between us."

"And Ron..."

"Ron's the only one of us who has sense enough to poke fun at Snape. He gets under my skin too much for me to take him lightly. And you... Well, you're always defending him."

"_What?_ That's absurd! I am not!"

"Hermione, just now you were defending him for nearly killing you! You equated it with his superiority at casting spells!"

"I never said anything about defending Snape. I said that he's out of our league, which is the truth, Harry. He's _teaching_ us, whether you and Ron like it or not. He's preparing us for what's out there—"

"You're wrong, 'Mione! Snape doesn't give two sods about what happens to any one of us! When this war starts, he'll be fighting on the other side! Mark my words: _he'll turn on all of us, including Dumbledore!_"

* * *

Severus mulled over the point laboriously, and the only person he seemed to be aggravating was himself. He had other far more pressing matters to consider at the moment than that insufferable Hermione Granger, but the guilt was overpowering.

_Perhaps that was the wrong angle to get my point across._ His eyes glittered unnaturally as he snorted at his previous thought. _Conceited brats! How the hell else are they going to learn? No one gets distracted when at war; it's about time someone engraved that into Potter and his pals' thick skulls._

Severus heaved back in his leather chair, inhaling a slow, calculated breath as he closed his eyes and let his mind wander. Things would only get worse in the coming months. Dumbledore's hand was looking worse last night when he paid the Headmaster a visit, the Dark Lord was in relatively good spirits—never a good sign for Severus and the Death Eaters—and the workload piling up in his office left him little time to rest or recoup. He was merely running on fumes at this point and finding it increasingly difficult to control his emotions, let alone his facade.

_Yes, the face that keeps people at a distance and prevents others from penetrating what lies beneath._ He had to keep going, he _must_. Too much was at stake and it was too early for him to lose his grip now. _Still_, he griped inwardly with an exhaustive sigh, _it would be nice to get a few hours rest for a change._

Severus hadn't meant to put Hermione Granger through that demonstration or, at least, he hadn't meant to be so abrasive in his lesson. But wasn't that the whole point? The real world would be neither polite, nor hesitant in hexing any of Hogwarts' students when the time came. Potter had, admittedly, helped increase some of their combative skills last year, not that that changed how Severus felt about the infamous brat. He was impressed by how loyal the students were to their school and Headmaster, and that they had gone to the trouble of teaching themselves, but, from Severus's knowing perspective, they were all still ill-equipped to combat any of the Dark Lord's minions. When the time came, they would all be tested. And if they couldn't defend themselves properly, swiftly, and without fail or hesitation, then there would be no hope for any of them.

_They'll all be dead..._

Hermione Granger was undoubtedly his brightest student. She always had been. Sure, she had a lack for spontaneity and followed the outline of her textbooks to an excessive degree, but she _was_ far more intelligent than any other student. And she had managed to surprise him; a rare feat, indeed. She had blocked all of his spells and even pushed them back.

_Impressive, and unexpected_, Severus had thought when he was through with the lesson.

And yet, that had been partially _why_ he chose her in the first place, though it irked him more than he allowed himself to think. Her concentration had been extremely poor in class. It was very unlike her, when she had always managed to be one of the few Gryffindors who actually paid attention to his lectures and instructions without having to be routinely reprimanded or forced to do so.

His Slytherins took care to be mindful, of course, but even Draco was distracted these days, and rightfully so. He had to be patient and wait for the boy to come to him, but if he didn't come for help soon, Severus would have to take action.

_I will have to be more ruthless_, Severus determined after a time, opening his eyes and soaking in the shadows of his new office. _If Granger and the others have a fighting chance, then I will challenge them until they crack._ Despite his intentions to return to answering the stack of owls on his desk, a lingering thought about the curly-haired young lady surfaced, pressing on Severus's mind. _Was she crying over Potter? Was that it? No, she likes the idiot Weasley; anyone can see that. She must not separate herself from Potter though. He'll need her soon; he will need his friends more than ever if he has a prayer of surviving what is to come... That blasted Hermione Granger better not be moving her alliances around. I must ensure that she doesn't._

* * *

That evening, Severus was summoned to the Headmaster's office. Though the brilliant wizard had no clue what it might be about this time, there were several possibilities. The Dark Lord's plans, the Death Eaters' latest instructions, an alternative tonic for the curse on Dumbledore's hand, a last-minute staff meeting, Potter...

_Always bloody Potter!_

Severus let out an unconscious growl, scowling heavily as he climbed the stairs once more to Dumbledore's quarters. When he entered, he found the Headmaster standing at leisure in front of one of the high windows, gazing out over the Hogwarts grounds now immersed in darkness. Night had fallen, and it was as bleak and dark as any before.

Dumbledore's head turned halfway towards Severus, but he didn't fully turn around or make eye contact. He bowed his head respectfully and returned his attention to the window.

"You sent for me, Albus?"

"Yes, Severus. I understand you presented a bit of a challenge today in your D.A.D.A. lesson?"

Severus's black eyes narrowed. Dumbledore never challenged the Slytherin's teaching methods without a reason or an ulterior motive. "I did."

"And the young lady you demonstrated on was Miss Granger, yes?"

Severus hated the old man's rhetorical questions. The wizard already knew the answer. In fact, Severus suspected that Dumbledore already knew of the entire incident in detail, in part thanks to Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House.

"Yes, it was Miss Granger," he replied mechanically.

"Why?"

_That_ was unexpected. Severus's eyes glittered for a second, more out of curiosity and wariness than any other reason. "She is the only student capable, Albus. I daresay if most of our students squared off with a group of Death Eaters tomorrow, they wouldn't last more than a minute. They are all in dire need of more vigorous training, even Potter."

"Ahhh, on that point, Severus, I most certainly agree." Dumbledore turned around, his long, purple robes following suit. His wrinkled face was serene but serious at the same time. "That is why I summoned you tonight. Forgive me, I know you need your rest."

Severus tried not to snarl outright. It was no one's business how he took care of himself, not even Dumbledore's. "I'm fine, Albus."

"I should hope so."

"What is it that you need?"

"Harry, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley... They have grown so much since last term. I, myself, think you don't give the three of them enough credit—" Severus hissed under his breath, a sound that not only the Headmaster but all the moving portraits in his office picked up on. Dumbledore continued as if uninterrupted, "But I do worry about how far they will get, particularly Harry, once I am gone."

Severus turned his head slightly, a few raven hairs falling softly around his eyes. "Albus," he stated rather cautiously, his voice unwavering, "we've already discussed this. You know the lengths I will go to ensure—"

"Yes, I know, Severus, but I sense you and I are troubled by a similar point. Perhaps it is nothing. But then again, perhaps it _is_ something..."

"No riddles tonight, Albus." Severus's voice was lower now and brittle, hinting at his inner annoyance with his master. "You want me to make sure that Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley stay close to him, yes?"

Dumbledore laced his withered fingers together and a brief glimpse of the curse on his right hand was visible, before he enfolded his other hand over to disguise it from view. His fingers had darkened first by the curse, but now it had spread to his knuckles, despite the tonic Severus had been administering to him since the summer when it happened.

"Miss Granger," he continued delicately, "is exceedingly bright, as you know, and I think she will be most useful to Harry once the inevitable is in motion. I... I'd hate for Harry to do this alone, Severus. I know the Order will help him in every way possible, but he _needs_ his friends. He won't survive long enough without them."

"He's only survived this long by a fortunate consistency of dumb luck," Severus replied in a rather acid tone. "It is a wonder the boy's made it this far, Albus, you must admit."

"Yes, I know," Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "He's certainly had ample help from others, particularly Miss Granger."

When Dumbledore paused, Severus stared without blinking. "I fail to understand what Miss Granger has to do with me."

Dumbledore drew several steps closer to the rigid, dark wizard in his office, eying him over with a flicker of brightness in his blue eyes. There was a hint of a smile on his mouth too, which, to Severus, was never a good omen.

"I think you_ do_ understand me, Severus, and better than most, in fact. I believe you care more about Harry's fate than you will ever admit to me, let alone to yourself. You know how greatly the future depends on him, and that future is _uncertain_..."

"I know." Severus's tone may have been passive, as if he were bored with this whole conversation, but Dumbledore could penetrate through the mask, if only a little, without knowing his Potions Master all that well. "You already know what I will do, Albus. What of Miss Granger?"

"If she and Mr. Weasley are to aid Harry, then we need to keep a watchful eye on them. It may be necessary for you to interact with her in the future. This is more than you would like, Severus, I know, but I sense a disturbance already amongst the three of them that has me concerned."

"I've sensed it, too. Miss Granger has never performed so poorly in my class as she has this past week. But Albus, those twits are always together. I doubt our reservations are more than just that."

Dumbledore, again, laughed at Severus's slight and shook his head a little. "Just keep an eye on them, won't you?"

Severus's pupils contracted, making the shadows under his eyes more pronounced. "I've only been doing so for years," he replied through clenched teeth.

"Severus, you know what I'm getting at—"

"Of course I do."

"If a little encouragement is needed..."

"Don't even think about it!" Severus snapped. "I'm doing everything in my power, Albus! Let that be enough!"

"Miss Granger will need to know more, Severus. The matter is dire and is becoming much more necessary. We both know Mr. Weasley is perhaps a little too—"

"Thick?" Severus interjected with an obvious sneer.

Dumbledore's gentle smile broadened. "I was going to say 'ignorant,' but if you insist."

Severus snorted and relaxed his shoulders a little. He sighed deeply and released a bit of the magical tension that surrounded his stark reserve, gazing at Dumbledore with less severity than before.

"I make no guarantees, Albus. I trust no one, you know that. I will continue to trust no one. Not even you. You understand—"

"That your way is clear?" There was a twinkle behind the powerful wizard's spectacles that Severus found odd, but he chose to ignore it, along with the man's retort. Those words stung far worse than his Headmaster could possibly know. "Yes, I do, Severus. I trust you will do what is necessary, what is _right_, when the time comes, just as you have done in my service all these years."

"Not yet," Severus grumbled, turning his eyes away momentarily to some inanimate object in the room, "and not unless it becomes _absolutely necessary_."

"Yes, Severus, when it is _absolutely necessary_."

"Very well then."

Not asking to be excused, nor really needing to, Severus turned away from Dumbledore and left his office without another word, his form in full force as he made his way back to his private quarters with a determination to forget their discussion immediately.

* * *

**A/N #2: Hmm...**


	3. Out of Order

**A/N: I confess, I got a lot of unnecessary satisfaction from writing something that occurs later in this chapter. I think you SS/HG readers will understand why, since he's not very popular amongst our shipping group in general, nor was he a particularly stand up guy in _Unquestionable Love_...  
**

**_Much thanks to my beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Out of Order**

"What the bloody hell has gotten into him?"

"I think he wants to ensure that those fifty points we lost are well kept," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Probably. McGonagall's furious."

"And for good reason! It's absurd! But then..."

"_It's Snape_," Ron grumbled, curling his lips as if he had tasted something grotesque.

"Yeah."

"Did you see how frightened poor Parvati was? He nearly made her cry, the ruddy old git! She took a serious hit with that second hex."

Hermione pushed her way past them as they made their way to their next class following D.A.D.A. It had been an intense lesson for everyone. Nearly a week after Hermione had been forced to take on Snape in class, the professor's temperament had not improved, though this wasn't much of a surprise to anyone; only now, his tactics were even more severe than the norm and were starting to affect everyone's belief in their own capabilities. Even Harry, Ron, and Hermione were beginning to doubt themselves. None of them had ever felt more confused or unhinged.

"Honestly, you two, stop whining," said Hermione with a sigh, as she diverted her eyes from Ron. Once she was at a safe distance ahead of them, she called over her shoulder, "We weren't as well equipped last year as we thought."

Hermione was glad her back was turned so as not to witness her friends' reactions. Surely, they would have been appalled and even slighted, Harry especially, as he had formed Dumbledore's Army and oversaw their instructions in their fifth year.

Hermione was pretty unnerved herself. She had thought herself highly skilled when it came to wizarding combat, but Snape was quickly putting them all to shame, even her. Granted, the man was older, and thereby had had much more time to perfect his skills. He was far more experienced, and it was little wonder that he continuously won duels against everyone in class, even if he had been unprepared for Harry to come back at him in their first lesson that term.

Hermione couldn't figure out what his _motives_ were, and that's what was puzzling her clever mind, even more than the lessons themselves. The Slytherin professor had never been one to go out of his way to help any of his students, except, perhaps, for Draco Malfoy and a few of his snakes. It all seemed like a rather cruel joke. Either he was going out of his way to belittle them all, or was actually trying to help them; Hermione couldn't decide which. If the wizarding world would soon see the onslaught of war, Severus Snape was hardly convincing them that they were ready. If anything, he was illustrating that they probably didn't have a fighting chance.

Oddly enough though, this didn't bother Hermione as much as her peers. Years of experience with the dark, unpopular wizard had taught Hermione never to take Professor Snape, or anyone else, at face value. There _had_ to be an underlying reason to such brutal tactics, and even if she couldn't gather what it was, she hoped for improvement and some much-needed reassurance.

_Take it in stride_, she reminded herself during that day's lesson. _Remind that to Harry, too; and to Ron, if possible._

* * *

Severus had a pounding headache as he sat down to grade his students' performances. Why was he even wasting his time? They were sixth years at this point, and if this was the best they could do, then he wasn't about to exhaust his own efforts. He had been at them relentlessly and at the rest of the students, including the first years, for nearly three months now, trying to run home the point that they must work harder—without trying to push them over the edge. Or maybe he was; he had lost sight at this point.

Just as Severus dipped his feathered quill in his infamous red ink to begin his evaluations that would contain no room for mercy, a shooting pain grabbed hold of his left arm and he dropped his quill. Red ink splattered across the parchment in front of him, but he paid the mess little mind. He couldn't have. Receiving a summoning from the Dark Lord was never a comfortable experience.

Without checking the source of such pangs, only clutching his left arm and diverting the desire to wince by shifting his focus elsewhere, Severus crept to his feet and turned to the roaring fireplace behind his desk. Like the Headmaster, he could Disapparate in and out of Hogwarts at will, but he was the only one allowed the privilege by Dumbledore, considering his circumstances. He had given Severus the needed password to do so, and though Severus knew he should probably leave word with Dumbledore, he quickly decided against it.

_No time_, he concluded.

Severus's body suddenly swirled and contorted, before vanishing from his gloomy office. In an instant, he was on his feet again on the edge of a messy yard and small shack that were both in shambles. The grounds were overgrown, almost masking the abandoned house from view. Its windows were boarded up, and there was an overgrown path leading to its front door, should any Muggle be absurd enough to trespass.

Severus waved branches, twigs, and shrubs out of the way easily enough with his magic, constructing a clear pathway for himself as he swiftly made his way towards the house. A flicker of light peeped through one of the boarded windows on the first level. Severus could already sense who was present before he entered and immediately closed off his mind, using the power of Occlumency to shield himself from those within.

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed hold of the rusted handle and tread inside. An eerie, unnatural voice greeted him. "Severus..."

Severus stepped forward with his hands behind his back and offered a respectable bow, his dark hair falling around his face to mask his expression. "My Lord," he replied.

"Let me see you," the source of the voice hissed.

Severus brought himself upright and the dark strands fell back, away from his unreadable expression, and his eyes soaked in the scene before him. A woman, two men, and Lord Voldemort were gathered near a dirty, blackened hearth; the fire was dying out, leaving the atmosphere almost as frigid as the winter chill outside.

"Snivellus, you look positively dreadful. More than the usual, I'd say. Are we feeling the _pressure_ these days?"

It was the wicked female who had spoken. She cackled in a manner that made her sound like a mad loon. There was little need though, for she already looked the part of someone who had lost their mind eons ago.

Severus didn't flinch or regard her much. His black eyes simply stared straight into hers as he whispered in a monotone voice, "You look about as attractive as a Blast-Ended Skrewt, Bellatrix. Spare me your unenlightening thoughts. You're wasting your time. You're tedious and your words mean nothing to me."

The witch named Bellatrix went red in the face and her crooked, unhealthy smile faded at the brash insult. The two male Death Eaters beside her snickered softly, but Lord Voldemort said nothing. Even when the witch turned to him for some sort of aid, hoping that her master would reprimand the Hogwarts professor, he showed no indication of doing so.

Once the Death Eaters quieted, Lord Voldemort spoke in a gentle whisper, though it was hardly warm or inviting, "I wish for a progress report on Draco. How is he coming along?"

Severus inwardly puzzled over the matter. In truth, he hadn't given much thought to the boy lately, and only over the past few weeks, as he worked tirelessly to bring his students up to speed on nonverbals. He shifted his shoulders and lifted his head slightly.

"Draco has refused my help thus far, my Lord, but I believe him to be making solid progress. I sense he may come to me soon for some guidance, perhaps before the holidays, but, so far, he is insistent on taking care of the matter himself."

"The brat better be making progress," Bellatrix's high-pitched voice swept over the room, causing Lord Voldemort's eyes—if they could be called such—to flicker, "or he'll have _me_ to deal with, my Lord!"

"Silence, Bellatrix," the Dark Lord stated quietly, a dangerous threat indeed, "and do not interrupt me again."

It took all of Severus's composure not to smirk outright, seeing the look of shame that followed the Dark Lord's demand. Bellatrix stepped back and slunk her head a little, watching Lord Voldemort sheepishly out of the corner of her eye.

Voldemort stepped forward and began to circle Severus, a psychological tactic he did so often that Severus wasn't even sure if the wizard was aware of it; a twelve-foot snake accompanied his progression. She was green, thick, and hinted at a higher intelligence than a Muggle would have ever suspected. Nagini, ever the Dark Lord's faithful companion, turned her head up to Severus to inspect him as thoroughly as her master.

"I need you to find out just how far along Draco is, Severus. If he is behind schedule or faltering, I am trusting you to intercede."

"I will, my Lord," Severus uttered without fail.

"Understand, I take no pity on Lucius or Narcissa. This is to be done and if Draco fails, there _will_ be consequences..."

"I understand, my Lord."

"If he is failing, you are to tell me at once. There are far greater things at stake here than a mere boy's self-righteousness."

"Agreed."

"And what of Potter?"

"Your lordship will be happy to know that he is lackluster, at least in my lessons. He has not improved much since last year."

This seemed to please the Dark Lord greatly, for an unsettling smile drew across his mouth. His unnerving red eyes also glittered momentarily at the news.

"Wonderful," he hissed, lacing his long fingers together as he inspected Severus for any hint of fabrication. "No doubt his little fan club will come to his aid when the time presents itself, but we will deal with them accordingly."

"Of course, my Lord."

"Then I leave you to your duties, Severus. I expect a more in-depth report from you on Draco soon. Make no mistake, next time I summon you, I expect _more_ details."

Severus bowed his head respectfully. "I understand, my Lord. I shall not fail you."

"That remains to be seen," Bellatrix mumbled under her breath; everyone heard it.

Lord Voldemort's smile lessened, but still remained, as he turned to the unsightly witch, who was standing back with her arms crossed and a most abrasive stare aimed directly at the professor. "That may be so, Bellatrix," said the Dark Lord, "but you all still have much to prove to me. You may have taken the pledge to be my follower, but I can smell betrayal well before the onslaught. Severus has been exceedingly loyal to me, just as much as you have, Bellatrix, but do not be so careless as to believe yourself safe from my undoing."

Severus took a hurried moment to stare the witch down, his eyes glimmering triumphantly just for her before they faded. The Dark Lord hadn't noticed, but Bellatrix had and, to his delight, her mad eyes enlarged and her cheeks flushed. He always had a way of setting her on edge. She had never trusted Severus and, therefore, was more than a liability to him. She was also the only member who ever questioned his loyalty, and had the nerve to vocalize her misgivings to anyone who would listen.

"My Lord," Severus bowed once more as a form of departure, "I shall report to you as soon as I receive word. It shouldn't be long."

"Very well, Severus. You may go."

Bellatrix stumbled forward, her eyes pleading with her master. "_That's it?_ Can't I... Aren't I allowed to..."

Severus's eyebrows tapered, but he said nothing, waiting for Lord Voldemort to address her unfinished questions. "I appreciate your bloodlust and enthusiasm, Bellatrix, but not tonight. I have indulged you far too frequently. I need my Slytherin Head of House to be on his guard and alert for the time being."

Bellatrix hung her head again, her black hairs snarling and haphazardly pulled together. She wouldn't get what she wanted tonight, what she so often craved for when any number of Death Eaters were gathered: torture. She twiddled her fingers and shot Severus a deadly glare, but he, in turn, offered her nothing. His placid, emotionless mask exasperated the witch more than any snarky remark he could make at her expense. Severus knew it, taking private delight in the reactions he garnered from her so often as a result of doing _nothing_.

"You may go, Severus. I shall summon you again soon."

"My Lord."

Severus took his leave at once, his long cloak sweeping the air dramatically as he exited the beaten down house. Once safely outside and at a considerable distance, he Disapparated, returning to his warm confines at Hogwarts. The pain in his arm had subsided, but the self-loathing and sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach hadn't.

* * *

Snape's short fuse couldn't take it anymore, though his mounting frustrations were barely noticeable to his students. Those eyes, however, gleamed and swarmed with fury. His anger at the grumpy ginger and obnoxiously clever girl was now reaching a dire level. He stalked forward with his fists clenched.

"Granger! Weasley!" he spat, as all the students rose to group into their usual pairings. Ron and Hermione froze, their shoulders tensing at the professor's icy address. Snape progressed down the aisle towards them with a twitch of his upper lip. "You will be partners for today's practice session. Longbottom, go with Potter. Now!"

Hermione saw the stupid gape on Ron's face. It infuriated her enough to speak up, "Professor, please—"

"Did I make myself clear, Miss Granger?"

The darkness of his eyes was enough to make her think twice. "Yes, sir." She bowed her head, not daring to make eye contact with Ron as usual. She could literally feel her friend's anger filtering through the gap between them.

As Snape turned on his heel, Ron dared to also speak up with a heavy frown, "May I ask _why_, sir?"

Snape abruptly turned around and shot Ron a ferocious glare that made the Weasley swallow nervously. "You may not," he retorted, leaving them to muddle it over as they saw fit.

Hermione turned to Neville and Harry, both of whom looked just as befuddled as she and Ron were, but the boys quickly shrugged and walked off. Ron and Hermione slunk to a spot near their friends, standing at a distance from each other, both eying the other awkwardly. Both could easily sense what the other was thinking: this was beyond uncomfortable and neither one of them wanted to be remotely nearby. But they simply had no choice, unless they wished to be on the receiving end of Severus Snape's wrath.

Hermione shifted her eyes away momentarily and caught a peculiar sight that made her shoulders stiffen. Snape was now leaning against the wall on the opposite end of the room with his arms laced over his chest. It wasn't his casual demeanor that was so unnerving, so much as the penetrating stare of those ebony irises, which weren't watching the various hexes and blocks being cast throughout the room. Their attention was instead entirely focused on _her_. Hermione couldn't help but startle and was even more taken aback when she saw Snape smirk rather wickedly, undoubtedly delighted with the reaction she gave him.

By the time she turned her attention back to Ron, he was reluctantly raising his wand, but his eyes were narrowed, his jaw angled and set. Hermione blinked quickly and raised her wand. She shot the first spell, and poor Ron barely had time to react. He shot the incantation back at Hermione, who not only blocked it with ease but hurled another jinx at him that, unfortunately, was too ill-timed for Ron; he went spiraling backwards several feet before landing hard on his rear.

Ron let out a cry of pain as he hit the ground and squeezed his eyes shut, a sight that Hermione couldn't help but feel _good_ about. When she chanced a quick glance at Snape, he wasn't paying any mind to the pained student on the floor. He was still looking at her, and the dark curls at the edge of his mouth had broadened into, if she was bold enough to believe it, a contented smirk. Hermione almost wanted to grin back, but thought better of it. She'd probably receive a detention if she made any attempt at cordiality.

"Again, Miss Granger," Snape demanded of her in his deep, rich voice, "and this time, give Mr. Weasley adequate time to block, if you please."

Ron, now getting to his feet and massaging his backside gingerly, scowled at the professor. Hermione jolted, knowing full well how Ron's tongue was often quicker than his brain, especially when he was in a bad temper, but she wasn't fast enough.

"I _had_ adequate time, Professor!" he spat bitterly.

Snape simply turned his head, looking over his student with a cold air of indifference that would rub anyone the wrong way. "Then you are under a severely misguided impression that you are somehow a sufficient dueler, Mr. Weasley. A Death Eater could take you out with a flick of his wrist, judging by that pitiful performance. _Again!_"

Hermione swallowed hard. This had certainly become the routine of their lessons, but it didn't make the professor's harsh criticism any easier to stomach. She almost felt bad for Ron as he trudged back to his spot, scowling miserably all the while with a hand on his rear, but then she remembered why she was so angry at him, and that fueled her concentration.

Her mind suddenly felt clear, focused, ready... She raised her wand and waited for whatever Ron would throw at her, this time giving the ginger more than enough time to make his move. Then she noticed the misdirected anger in those familiar blue eyes and felt immediately sickened inside, and deeply hurt. It weakened her concentration, if only just, and that was all that was needed by the Weasley.

Ron sent a series of spells at Hermione, one after the next, which shell-shocked her as well as the rest of the students. They never practiced so heatedly on one another, but this duel between the two Gryffindors was something altogether different; it was vengeful. Hermione sent each jinx back at Ron, and, finally, he flew back again at the last incantation, unable to block the spell that he, himself, had unleashed upon her.

When he recovered, Ron sputtered several colorful remarks as he hurriedly stumbled to his feet. Harry, however, ran to his mate's side at that same moment and grabbed him by a fist full of his robes.

"Ron, what the hell—"

"Shove off, Harry!" Ron growled and, being larger than the famous boy with the round glasses, shoved him away with ease. He stared Hermione down with a very ugly expression that made her stomach churn. In that moment, Hermione's nerves were tattered. She had never seen Ron more infuriated in all the time they had known each other, and it was all for her.

Hermione couldn't move or breathe. Her legs were cemented to where she stood, and it was Snape's authoritative, menacing drone that finally distracted her from the vicious pair of eyes fixated on her. She blinked several times and found Harry being thrown aside by the professor as he stalked his way over to Ron, warning Harry not to try to interfere again.

"Wipe that idiotic look off your face, Weasley!" he snarled close to Ron's face, and the Gryffindor slowly turned to soak in his enraged instructor. They were practically eye level with one another, but it didn't seem to deter either of them one bit. "Serves you right for your ridiculous stupidity! You should never hurl more hexes than you are able to block! And the very notion that you're only capable of blocking _three_ hexes at a time is a sad reality, indeed! You should be more mindful of what you're doing, you ignorant sod!"

Hermione felt like her heart had plummeted into the pit of her stomach at what happened next. Ron unexpectedly lunged at Snape, dropping his wand in the process, and pushed the powerful wizard against a wall with all his might, showcasing his teeth in a rare display of utter rage.

"_Ron!_" Harry cried, stunned, and several others joined him in total shock as they attempted to break up the altercation, though it was really only Ron that they tried to dissuade.

There were several muffled cries and excited whispers as Snape lunged back, growling savagely in an animal-like fashion, his white face contorted first in surprise, and then in an anger all his own. Ron made several attempts at a punch or a push, but Snape pushed right back with equal force. Before long, Snape brought himself free of Ron's clutches with a rather elegant wave of his arm before his other drew back, then thrust forward to meet Ron's freckled nose, hard. There was a jolt-defining crunch and Ron toppled to the floor with a crash.

By the time Hermione and everyone else could make sense of what had occurred, Ron was on the floor, covering his face with one hand and cursing at the blood trickling from his broken nose and onto the floor. Snape was towering over him; his stark frame paused in mid-action, his wand pointed directly at his student's face. The burning enmity in his eyes was enough to make everyone keep their distance, including many of his Slytherins.

Hermione's quivering limbs started to make their way towards the crowd that had formed around them, but it was Draco Malfoy—the sixth year Slytherin who, for so many years, had given her and her friends such personal grief—who dared to approach their infuriated teacher. He halted beside Snape and hesitantly reached for one of the wizard's powerful forearms.

"Sir?" It was then that Hermione noticed Snape's body convulsing, as well as his heavy, uneven breaths. "Professor? He - He needs to go to the hospital wing..."

If hell had frozen over, then it paled in comparison to _this_ surprise for Gryffindors and Slytherins alike. Draco aiding Ron in a roundabout way? Impossible. Then again, he was the only person who chanced approaching Snape in such a furious state. No one else had dared.

Snape's focus abruptly shifted, and his dark lashes fluttered. He seemed to be drawing himself out of his rage, and when he came to, his face morphed back into one of total composure and reserve. He exhaled long and deep and withdrew his wand somewhere into his coat, taking a moment to regard Draco before returning his attention to the bloody mess on his floor.

"Clean yourself up, Mr. Weasley," Snape spat dangerously, his voice low and controlled as he bore his teeth, "and expect a month's worth detention for being so presumptuous as to think you could overrun me. How dare you. You are thicker than I ever took you for, you insolent, big-headed buffoon. _Get out_."

* * *

"Miss Granger."

Hermione had been unconsciously staring at the spot where Ron had been sprawled only minutes before, and doing so without blinking. She had no idea how long she'd been standing there, but supposedly it was long enough to warrant her professor's attention. The rest of the class had resumed dueling, with the exception of Draco, who apparently asked permission to leave, a request Snape willingly granted ("Something he'd never let us do!" the Gryffindors griped to one another as they practiced).

"Sir?" Hermione managed weakly, trying to gather her wits after what had just happened. Her warm, caramel irises ogled Snape, who was now mere inches from her and staring down with equal intensity. She couldn't read his face—no one ever could—but he seemed to be searching hers for something.

"Your short attention span is severely limiting your ability to practice any combative spells proficiently. Did you actually fight at the Department of Mysteries at the end of last term, or was that all made up?"

"S - Sir?"

"Your _attention_, Miss Granger," he emphasized with a hiss. "You have been emotionally distracted for weeks. Get it out of your system already and move on."

To this remark, Hermione jerked and blinked hard. She scanned his dark eyes and the blank expression that stared back, but found no trace of what he was insinuating. Finally, she managed to blurt out, "Wha - What do you mean, sir?"

Snape surprised her with a prolonged sigh that morphed into an all-around weary disposition. He suddenly looked much older, even slightly weaker, though Hermione figured she could very well be imagining that, remembering how the mighty professor had nearly knocked Ron out cold only minutes ago.

"I think you know, Miss Granger," he stated flatly before turning around to leave her where she stood, bewildered and self-conscious all over again.

* * *

**A/N #2: Yeah, I know, not Severus's best move, professionally or otherwise, but I couldn't resist. And letting the man take a little stab at Bellatrix in front of the Dark Lord, too, was almost just as satisfying, I have to admit. Our Potions Master needs to take his rare opportunities at getting even and fighting back wherever he can, poor fellow...  
**

**I'll be attempting to update every three or four days like last time, just to give you a time frame. I will do my best not to go longer than that whenever possible. Onward ho!  
**


	4. Luck or Not

**A/N: There will be quite_ a lot_ of chapters that take place during _Half-Blood Prince _era, since this is the time frame in which much of their relationship will develop, albeit gradually. I don't want to mislead anyone in thinking that within the next few chapters Severus and Hermione will suddenly be drooling all over one another. The idea is admittedly _very_ tempting, but it won't happen for a while. ;)**

**Remember: This story is primarily about the _development_ and _progression_ of their romance, and it'll be a long journey, but hopefully worth the effort. Please be patient with me, and I will definitely try to make it worth the wait.  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

**********Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Luck or Not**

"You lost your composure, Severus."

Severus loathed being scolded by the old man like a dog and hissed defiantly, "Weasley deserved it! He is irrevocably stupid and a cauldron waiting to overheat. If he proves to be of any use to Potter in the near future, I will retire to Spinner's End and never set foot in this castle again!"

"Even so, Severus," said Dumbledore with an amused twinkle in his eyes, "did you_ have_ to break the boy's nose?"

"Yes," Severus replied matter-of-factly. "Minerva can gripe all she wants. It was justified."

Dumbledore shook his head a little, but continued to smile as he inadvertently rubbed at his cursed hand. He quickly decided to shift gears. "Well, I have been showing Harry some of the memories of Tom Riddle, you know, the ones I've already shown you, and I think he'll successfully be able to crack Horace and get that memory before too long."

"I see."

Severus sighed and tried not to look as dreadful as he felt. _I have much to do_, his tired mind plagued him. _Hurry this along, goddamn it._

"You know Harry managed to brew a near perfect Draught of the Living Dead?"

Severus arched an eyebrow. "I have heard as such. It's been well over a month, and Horace still won't shut up about it or Potter in general, for that matter."

"And with good reason, Severus. It's vital that Harry gain Horace's trust." He abruptly frowned and scrutinized Severus more carefully. "I thought he was quite horrid at Potion-making? I recall you saying so many times..."

Severus's eyes constricted, but his face remained emotionless. "Potter was always less than acceptable at the subject, as you already know, Albus. I have no idea where his sudden, heightened skills are coming from, but I'm sure they aren't _honorable_."

"Come now, Severus," Dumbledore needled, still sounding quite amused, "I know you don't care for the boy, but you are too harsh on him in many respects—"

"Is that why you summoned me tonight, Albus? To tell me that I should coddle and baby Potter? It will _never_ happen, not in this lifetime, or in the next, so tell me _why_ you've brought me here. I have much—"

Dumbledore put a hand up to stop Severus mid-sentence and inched closer, inspecting his former pupil unreservedly over his half-moon spectacles. "I know, Severus. I am sorry to have summoned you so late. I know you have a lot weighing on you at the moment. This should only take a few more minutes." Dumbledore meandered around his large desk and took a seat, lying back comfortably against the high chair that towered to the brim of his hat. "It's about Miss Granger."

Severus cocked his head slightly, his brow furrowing. "Miss Granger?" he repeated, seemingly uninterested. "What about her?"

Dumbledore did not answer right away and instead surveyed the wizard in black, his fierce, blue eyes alert and illuminating. He leaned forward and placed his hands in his lap. "I think it is _absolutely necessary_..."

Severus's face slowly manifested into a genuine expression of horror. "_What?_"

"Weasley, as you already pointed out, is a loose cannon, and we can't expect Harry to retain everything he needs to know and still keep his head on straight. The poor boy has been psychologically damaged enough as it is. He's lost Sirius, he witnessed Voldemort's return, and he knows the Prophecy. I see no reason to damage his psyche any further. Not yet, anyhow."

"Then why Miss Granger?" Severus inquired with heightened awareness, his pitch elevating slightly.

"Because you know why, Severus..."

"Then why _now?_"

"You know the answer to that too, my friend. And we both know that you know far more about the Dark Lord's plans than I. I suspect the timing to be right and if my judgment is correct, then it_ is_ time. Am I right?"

There was a long pause before the rigid body of Severus Snape stirred. His hands swept into fists at the same time as his jaw tightened. A muscle switched against one of his high cheeks and he confided in a deeply pained whisper, "Yes..."

Dumbledore turned away from Severus at last, absent-mindedly surveying the curious contents scattered around his desk, his bright mind clearly somewhere else. Finally, he rose out of his chair and strode towards Severus, gradually, but with a firm resolution in his stride. "Very well," he replied, sounding more like the mighty wizard for which he was renowned. "I trust you to deliver the information to Miss Granger over time. Don't be too hostile, and give her time to thoroughly absorb what needs to be done."

The peculiarity in Severus's dark eyes was more than enough to show his understanding of the Headmaster's instructions. He was very much set against this idea, that much was certain to Dumbledore, so Dumbledore did not push him for a response.

As the former Potions instructor turned to exit his master's office, Dumbledore clasped him gently on the shoulder. Severus flinched at the contact, as he did whenever he received the touch of a hand from anyone; it was an all too rare occurrence that startled him greatly. He turned to stare deep into Dumbledore's eyes, which were now twinkling in a different light.

"Severus, I know how opposed you are to this idea. I know you would much prefer that I tell Harry everything that we've gathered to this point. I intend to divulge to Harry what I can, but right now his concentration _must_ be on learning everything he can about Tom Riddle and retrieving Horace's memory.

"I know you would rather let Miss Granger be, but there is nothing you can do about it. She is the brains of that trio. Make no mistake, if we are to choose between them, if they have the slightest chance of accomplishing what needs to be done, then our best hopes lie with Miss Granger to do whatever is necessary. For Harry. I trust the boy to rise to the inevitable. He surely will, but he _needs_ Miss Granger's expertise to help him achieve those ends. Even if it means the sacrifice of those he loves...

"Work with her, Severus, convince her, do whatever is necessary, within reason, to bring her to some sort of understanding. I'm counting on you."

Severus understood the gravity of this moment, as well as the full extent of what the Headmaster was asking of him. It was a burden Severus had always been reluctant to place upon the young Gryffindor, ever since Dumbledore raised the idea in her first year.

Whether Severus Snape could be patient enough and actually take the time with Miss Granger whilst also lecturing, grading, brewing potions, answering owls, helping Draco with the daunting task ahead, continue serving the Dark Lord to the fullest capacity without getting caught, and, at the same time, continue serving his Headmaster as well was a whole other matter.

_How will I manage?_ Severus reflected silently. For some reason though, he could sense that Dumbledore knew the odds his Slytherin instructor was wagering against himself at that very moment.

"I understand, Albus," he answered, with a weighty sigh.

"Thank you, Severus. I trust you know then how much is riding on your efforts..."

* * *

"Anything?" Harry asked, as he snuck up behind Hermione in one of the many crowded corridors.

"Still nothing," she muttered back, before Harry quickly changed topics.

"Have you seen Ron?"

"Yeah, this morning in the Great Hall; he wouldn't talk to me, of course, which is fine by me, but he looked..."

"Bad, eh?"

"Well, it's not pretty, if that's what you're wondering."

"Suffice it to say that the greasy git_ really_ nailed him?" Harry chuckled under his breath, unable to contain his amusement.

"Honestly, Harry, it's not funny! And anyway, why weren't _you_ at breakfast?"

"Oh, um," he rubbed a hand through his long, messy locks and diverted his eyes, "I ran into Ginny on my way to the Great Hall and we just sort of ended up roaming the hallways and talking..."

"Oh." A faint smile curled at the edges of Hermione's mouth. Her redheaded friend had failed to mention _that_ when she spotted the youngest Weasley in the library earlier that day. "Well, I hope it was worth skipping a meal over?"

"Mmm."

Hermione didn't know what to make of that vague response but didn't chance pushing her curiosity further. They continued to walk the crowded hallways at a leisurely pace.

"So still nothing on the Half-Blood Prince then?"

"No, Harry, I already told you, I've been searching in every book I can find. I'm running out of options."

"Well, let me know if you find any leads, all right?"

"All right. Hey, where are you going?" Harry suddenly burst into a sprint down the corridor, leaving her behind.

"To see Ginny!" he hollered over his shoulder before disappearing into the throng of rowdy students.

_I guess I'll be in the library again tonight_, Hermione reflected, sighing with disappointment. _So much for a fun-filled Friday evening._

None of the few friends she had seemed to be available anymore. Harry and Ginny were spending an awful lot of time together. Neville was hanging out more and more with Luna Lovegood, the peculiar Ravenclaw who, last year, had somehow found her way into their group of friends. And Ron, of course, was with Lavender, and Hermione and Ron were refusing to speak to one another, so there wasn't a chance in hell of hanging out with him, especially now that he received a sucker punch to the face by the teacher he hated the most.

_He must be in such a foul mood right now._ Remembrance of that shocking moment from the day before brought a fresh smile to Hermione's face as she lazily made her way back to Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

As Hermione meandered to a table at the back of the library, far away from any group of obnoxiously chatty students—there weren't many, seeing as the weekend was starting—Hermione caught sight of someone she least expected to encounter: Professor Snape. The formal instructor was standing by one of the stained glass windows, holding a book up to what little natural light still seeped in through the glass. It was now dusk and the sun was fading fast, but Snape didn't seem content to resort to candlelight just yet.

_Just my luck_, Hermione thought, feeling suddenly self-conscious. _Although, perhaps it's not such a bad thing. Maybe I can find out what he's up to._

As Hermione quietly took a seat at an empty table that was directly kitty-corner from the Potions Master, she couldn't help but survey him over the top of her book. If she was going to intrude, the least she could do was try to be discreet about it.

It was indeed a rarity to find Snape in the library. The man was elusive in his comings and goings and seemed to materialize out of nowhere most of the time. If he frequented the library as much Hermione suspected, given his vast, extensive wizarding knowledge and the impressive book collection contained in his classroom and office, he probably came after hours.

As Hermione watched him, she was quite surprised to witness how relatively _different_ Snape appeared when surrounded by books, quietude, and natural lighting. The infamous scowl was certainly still there, though not nearly as pronounced as it normally was. The snide mouth was more focused, angled awkwardly, reacting to whatever content he was actively engaged in. The mysterious eyes were squinting, but not at all in a harsh manner. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if the professor required reading glasses but simply chose not to wear them. The worn book held by his elegant, long fingers was treated with the utmost care, and Snape's delicate lips unconsciously moved along to whatever text was capturing his seemingly undivided attention.

_I wonder if he's aware that he does that?_ Hermione mused to herself, as she kept darting her curious eyes between her own book and the intriguing figure standing across the room.

Snape unconsciously removed one of his pale hands from the book covering and placed it casually on his hip, gracefully drawing his right leg over the other. He shifted his weight to his right and leaned into the wall, continuing with his reading undisturbed in a more casual stance. Whatever it was, he seemed very much immersed and unaware of being observed; or did he?

After about her eighth attempt at eying him inconspicuously, Hermione's breath hitched in her throat when she noticed a second pair of eyes looking back. She hadn't expected Snape's grim eyes to catch her staring and quickly glanced away, hiding behind her thick book, mortified, and a little petrified, too. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and fought to come off as composed and unbothered as possible, but then Snape spoke in the caustic tone Hermione had heard so many times before, and her feeble act was ruined.

"If you have something earth-shattering to tell me, Miss Granger, I suggest you get on with it. It's impolite to stare."

Hermione cautiously peered over her book, her warm countenance looking more than a tad sheepish, and the former Potions professor rolled his eyes. _Blasted Gryffindors. Always a dead giveaway._ He watched the young witch gradually lay down her book and attempt to keep eye contact with him.

"Sorry, sir. I wasn't trying to pry, I just... What are you reading?"

One of Snape's eyebrows rose, causing Hermione to flush a shade redder, but she was quite shocked when he actually answered her question, and rather politely too. Well, for _Severus Snape_ anyway. "I am researching the potential crossover between Blood-Replenishing Potion and Strengthening Solution when mixed with a certain antidote. So far, my attempts have been for naught, and I have yet to add the antidote to a successful combination. If the feat is possible, I haven't found the solution yet. My research is ongoing."

"Oh... And that?" Hermione nodded nervously to the weathered book in his hands.

Snape seemed disinterested in her spirit of inquiry but indulged her, nevertheless. "A very old Potions text by a highly intelligent, but also very old and dead Potion-maker, Casimir Shingleton." He snapped the book shut with a soft thud and stared her down with a mixture of what she could only decipher as hostility and confusion. "And, pray, of what interest is what _I_ read to _you_, Granger?"

"Sorry, Professor, I wasn't trying to intrude; I was merely curious is all."

"You're talking to someone of the mind, Granger, and not one of your fellow bird-brained adolescent peers. Nothing_ you_ ask is ever out of 'mere curiosity.' There's always an ulterior motive."

Hermione could not help but crack a small smile, even if he was trying to insult her, and shifted in her chair. "I suppose you're right. Sorry, sir."

"Stop apologizing in every other sentence, too," he hissed quietly. "It's irritating."

Hermione fidgeted. "Sor— Very well, sir."

Not sure of what else to say, Hermione awkwardly picked up her book again and tried to reread the sentence she had been on for the past several minutes. Unbeknownst to her, however, Snape stalked across the room without so much as a light tapping of his feet and when Hermione glanced up again, she was startled to find him standing right beside her, peering down with all the darkness and intimidation she'd grown accustomed to.

"What is it you want, Granger?"

The question was simple enough, but his tone was solemn and rather accusatory. Hermione swallowed and fought to remain collected. She hated how Professor Snape was still one of the few individuals in the wizarding world who could make her quiver like a first year. She had caught a glimpse of Lord Voldemort at the Ministry of Magic only a few months ago, and even then, she wasn't as bothered as she was now, looking up at the towering, cynical figure before her.

"I..." she fumbled, and not fast enough.

"You could have sat at any number of tables in the library tonight. There is hardly anyone here." Snape ignored her subtle attempt to scoot away from him and continued with a cold look, "You could have sought a different location when you saw me standing over there. Obviously, you wish to ask me _something_, Granger, or else you and your little friends are stalking me again in the hopes of catching me doing something sinister; so which is it?"

For a split second, Hermione's eyes appeared as if they were going to pop right out of their sockets, but she gathered her wits relatively quickly, a small feat that secretly impressed him. She was indeed growing up and becoming a little more confident in herself, if only just.

"I wasn't trying to stalk you, Professor. You're right though. I - I do have a question or two. Um, it's about these dueling lessons we've been having the past several weeks..."

"What about them?"

"Well...why?"

Snape blinked hard, a faint trace of surprise surfacing on his face. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, we already know how to duel and, no offense, but you've never been the type of teacher who goes out of his way to help his students, um, _advance_." Hermione bit her lower lip hard at that remark but pressed on, "You never have cared about students doing _well_, so why are you spending so much time emphasizing these nonverbals and the fact that you find our skills so lacking?"

Snape's eyes narrowed as he surveyed Hermione's silhouette anew before he answered in a monotone voice, "Because in order for you all to excel, Granger, you need to be able to properly duel and not merely at the classroom level, which is what you've all been practicing for far too long. That will not help you when you are faced head on with... Well, I think it goes without saying; you've tasted combat, Granger; you know already what I speak of.

"If none of you can even get your reflexes up to par, I see no point in wasting my efforts trying to teach you more than just the nonverbals, especially if you'll never be able to cast them properly. I don't care whether you do well or not to receive the proper grade; that is irrelevant in the real world. I only care that you do not waste my precious time."

Hermione felt a bit slighted and reared her head back, her wild curls sweeping off her shoulders. "We— _I_ know how to duel, Professor. I find your lack of confidence in us a bit harsh."

"_Oh?_" The tone was challenging, enough to egg Hermione on to delicately elaborate on her opinions.

"You're right, sir. I've seen plenty of combat, and I've found myself in many dangerous situations, but I've survived and know what it takes—"

"You haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about, Granger," Snape interjected with a low growl that sent a shiver running through her veins. "You are living in a fantasy world. _All of you_. I would like to see you stand up to the Dark Lord or any number of his followers today, as boastfully as you so claim, and see how you fare."

Hermione's mouth went dry. "I - I'm not trying to persuade you that I'm somehow the most capable duel master, sir. I just think—"

"That I should give you more credit and kudos than I have?" Snape's question was overshadowed by his overt distaste at such an idea, and Hermione hardly knew how to respond, but grew a little more flustered by the direct sneer she received.

"That's not _exactly_ what I was getting at..."

"Then what?"

"I - I just think you might underestimate some of us. We're not as inadequate as you think."

"Are you suggesting that I treat you differently? That I coo at you and your classmates for your lackluster efforts when you haven't the slightest idea of just how _nightmarish_ things are going to get?"

"You seem to have a peculiar knowing attitude about that, Professor."

Hermione could hardly believe what she had just uttered and immediately wished she hadn't. The furious glare that formed on Snape's face told her that she had clearly overstepped her bounds. She hadn't even noticed until now that Snape was leaning down to her level and that she was backed up to the edge of her seat with nowhere to go, except down on the ground.

"Don't _ever_ assume, Granger, that you know a single, solitary thing about me," Snape snarled, so close to her face that she could see his upper lip quivering. "You, Potter, and Weasley have made insinuations about and questioned my instruction _and_ my character to the point of exhaustion. You are far too opinionated for your own good and don't possess the slightest inkling about magic outside of what's contained in a goddamn textbook!"

"Professor, I just—"

"And don't interrupt me!" he spat, a flush seeping into his ashen cheeks that struck Hermione's nerves. "You may be the core link to Mr. Potter's bandwagon, but I'm not fooled by any of you. I won't give _you_ special treatment for getting yourself into dangerous scenarios, for relishing in your connections to the Boy Who Lived, or for the luck you've had when confronted by the Darks Arts in years past.

"A word of advice, Granger: your luck will run out eventually. You won't always have each other to lean on for protection and when you stand on that battlefield alienated and alone, what you learned in a textbook won't suffice to make a move, let alone stay alive long enough to raise your wand and defend yourself accordingly. Don't ever overestimate yourself, nor underestimate the abilities of others. You may be clever, my dear, but even _you_ aren't _that_ all-knowing."

Hermione, stunned and entirely incapacitated, could only stare at Snape with her mouth hanging limp. She gawked at the elusive, strange, and very bitter man who was now very much invading her personal space. She scanned the angry contortions of his face, which, at this proximity, were rather brutal and almost hurt to behold. The burning flames behind the depths of his eyes, however, were what startled Hermione the most, what left her bereft of air. Though colorless and seemingly lifeless from afar, from this close they showed something palpable that normally lay buried beneath the darkness; they were like cracked windows, if only one dared to dig deep enough to really see.

Just as Hermione was finding her breath again, the overwhelming black irises blinked, and the window that would have led her deeper into their depths was abruptly slammed in her face, replaced by the blank stare and frigidness she was so accustomed to. Snape quickly backed away from her and straightened up, peering down with the same intimidating air he had illustrated earlier, and Hermione couldn't move. She didn't dare. Her heart was beating fast and her mind was a blur, trying to make sense of the insults and sharp words he'd just spat at her.

When Hermione finally mustered the courage to stir, she realized that Professor Snape was gone. He had probably been gone for several minutes while she sat at the edge of her chair, staring stupidly into the ether and chewing over the man's words.

_'Your luck will run out eventually.'_

Was that a promise, or a warning? No longer able to study as she had initially planned, Hermione grabbed her textbook and headed back to the Gryffindor common room, unaware that she was running at full speed with her head hung low the whole way there.

* * *

Hermione stewed over Snape's vindictive accusations for the rest of the evening and into the following day. It was Saturday, and while most of the school was enjoying their weekend, if only temporarily before succumbing to homework, Hermione was too busy playing over much of what her D.A.D.A. instructor had insinuated about her.

_As if I would purposely go out of my way to get into trouble! Where did he get _that_ impression? I don't relish the attention that comes with being Harry's friend! And how dare he assume everything we've overcome was all thanks to luck and not skill! I'm not a delinquent and I'm certainly not inadequate!_

Hermione folded her arms firmly across her chest and tapped her foot on the floor as she sat on the couch in the deserted common room, staring into the roaring fire place without blinking. She had been sitting there for most of the morning, even skipping out on breakfast with Harry and Ginny.

Around lunch time, Harry returned, only to find Hermione in the same spot where he had left her. Ron quickly moseyed away, locked hand-in-hand with Lavender, but Harry wandered over and took a seat next to his friend on the couch, eying her curiously.

"'Mione?"

"Snape's an arse!"

"Come again?"

"I was in the library last night—"

"On a Friday?" When Hermione proceeded to glower at Harry, he leaned back with a wry smile. "Sorry, I should know by now that that's where you'd be."

"_As I was saying_," Hermione sniped, choosing to ignore Harry's remark, "I was in the library and Snape was there, and when I asked him about why we're still practicing all these duels in class—"

"You questioned him on that, 'Mione?" Harry stared at her with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, I did, and he proceeded to tell me how everything we've ever done in the past was luck. Granted, I know it partly _was_, but not _entirely!_ And he claimed that_ I_ take pleasure in the attention that comes with being your friend, which I don't, and that you, Ron, and I go out of our way to garner attention from everyone!_ Honestly!_ The nerve of that foul man, after everything we've been through!"

"'Mione," Harry replied tentatively, "you know these are all accusations we've dealt with before."

"I know, I know, but it doesn't change the fact that it still infuriates me! I've never had someone say it to my face and do so with such malicious intent!"

To her surprise, Harry started chuckling softly. "'Mione, _it's Snape_. What did you expect him to say? Why would you ever think he'd give us any credit at all? He hates us. Well, he really hates _me_, and you and Ron by association."

"Ugh, I don't know! But it's bugging the hell out of me! I've never been so hated by someone—a teacher—in all my life!"

"Is that what this is about? Not being the teacher's favorite?"

"No..."

"'Mione, there's no need to go out of your way to prove yourself to Snape. He's the last person you should strive to please. Nothing _any_ Gryffindor does will ever be good enough in that slimy sod's eyes. It's a waste of your time and energy."

"I know, I know," she sighed, collapsing against the back of the couch. "I kind of made the mistake of making the conjecture that he's associated with..."

Her voice trailed off, unable to complete her sentence, and Harry perked up and inclined towards her with interest. "_You did?_"

"Yeah... That's kind of what set him on a rage about how inadequate we all are."

"I would have loved to see his reaction," Harry snickered.

Hermione didn't answer. She uncrossed her arms and dropped her head, more than a little put out. She hated that someone else's opinion of her brought out such insecurity from within. Severus Snape hardly deserved her feeling this way, and she secretly berated herself for letting _him_, of all people, get to her so easily.

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione spoke up with resolution and declared, "I'm going to go tell him he's wrong."

"What?"

Hermione unlocked her legs and stood up, her hands now clenched into fists. "I'm not a misfit. None of us are. It's about time Snape stopped giving us a hard time and got a taste of his own medicine. I'm going to prove him wrong!"

Without so much as an explanation, Hermione stomped out of the common room, leaving a stunned Harry alone by the fireplace. After a moment, Harry's mind and body came together in sync, and he dashed out of the common room after his good friend who was about to make a really bad mistake. When he entered the abandoned hallway, however, Hermione was gone, probably already on the first floor in search of their nasty, menacing professor, a man who would surely show her no mercy for what she was about to do.

_Shit._

* * *

**A/N #2: As you can see, things will start to pick up a bit in the next chapter...**_  
_


	5. The Snake vs the Lion

**A/N: All right, guys, I'm throwing a cliche at you. Sorry. It couldn't be helped or avoided (_no, really!_), but you should see why in chapters to come. And -_ahem_- don't get any naughty ideas either. **

**No, seriously. Keep those dirty minds clean. This isn't _that_ kind of story, mm'kay? ;)  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Snake vs. the Lion**

Severus had been laboring over his third and fifth years' mediocre essays since the early hours of the morning. As usual, he lacked a full night's rest and even though his body was becoming sluggish and his eyes were growing heavy, he kept on grading, scrawling furiously over the parchment in front of him with that infamous red ink. He knew that as tired as he was, he wouldn't fall asleep anyhow. Too many years spent as an insomniac slammed such hopes into the ground.

After finishing the last of the essays, he glanced over at a clock at the opposite end of his office. It was nearly noon. Realizing that he hadn't had breakfast, Severus carefully stood and stretched his limbs, yawning long and deep as he threw his quill down into its holder. He was starving and in desperate need of some coffee if he had a prayer of making it through the rest of the day. There was no telling when he would be summoned again—either by Dumbledore or the Dark Lord—and if he were to get any peace at all this weekend, Severus hoped he would at least have enough time for a warm lunch.

Severus was just about to make his way towards the door when he heard a voice calling to him from his classroom on the lower level. He abruptly stopped and listened more carefully. The voice called again, much louder and panicked than before, so he whipped open the door without delay, prepared to find one of his Slytherins coming to him for assistance in breaking up an altercation, stopping a heated argument, or a combination of the two. If there was one thing Severus could do, it was always to look out for and protect the students in his house as much as possible. They had no one else who might come to their aid or defense, not even the Headmaster. Severus had learned that sour reality a long time ago.

Severus halted half way down the staircase when he spotted an unexpected face: Hermione Granger. And she looked positively furious.

"What the...?" he mumbled under his breath.

"I need to talk to you," she demanded, sounding much more assertive than when he had confronted her in the library the night before.

Severus sighed irritably and adjusted a few buttons on his frock coat as he reached the bottom of the stairs, strutting towards her with his robes flaring out dramatically. Hermione took a step back but kept her arms crossed, trying to stare him down as best she could. By the time he was directly in front of her, however, she found her confidence waning.

Severus was considerably taller than her, for one, but his menacing sneer and piercing glare were what made him so formidable and unapproachable to all, including her. "What is the meaning of this, Granger?" he whispered heatedly. "I am on my way elsewhere and cannot be bothered with giving you extra credit, if that's what you're after."

"No, that's not it!"

"Then what?"

Hermione gulped, trying to remember why she had come. "I - I was thinking about what you said in the library last night."

A flicker of bright light danced across Severus's eyes. "And?"

"And it was completely uncalled for and out of line!"

"_What?_"

"Harry, Ron, and I have gone through some very difficult trials, sir! What you said was not only insulting but incredibly hurtful! You insinuated several things about us—about _me_—that simply aren't true!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" he snarled, fully exasperated and rolling his eyes. "Is _that_ what you came to pester me about, Granger? _Your character?_ Find someone else to relay this to—perhaps Rita Skeeter at _The Daily Prophet_—and leave me alone!"

Hermione's mouth fell open. "How dare you!" she sputtered, before she could stop herself, her emotions unraveling fast.

"Don't test me, Granger. Get out of my way."

"You think you can just waltz around insulting me just because I'm younger than you and less experienced? You have _no idea_ what I've been through, or how I feel!"

Severus was admittedly caught off his guard. The distraught, yet strong, young woman before him was hardly recognizable when compared to the meek, buck-toothed, bushy-haired youngster she'd once been.

A wave of emotion passed over Severus's pallid face before he recomposed his mask, doing his best to ignore the evident pain in Hermione's eyes. "Excuse me," he breathed testily, as he brushed past her in haste.

"NO!" Hermione cried out. "You don't get to belittle me like that without hearing me out!"

The slamming of the open D.A.D.A. door reverberated around the eerily repressive, quiet room. Severus whipped his head around in alarm, and was met with Hermione's unsteady wand pointed directly at his face.

"_Granger!_" he growled dangerously, drawing himself up like an enraged lion ready to pounce. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Try me!" she bated, though her voice was wavering. "Go on!"

"What?"

"Round two!"

Realizing what she was after, Severus's eyes darkened, putting Hermione's stomach in knots. "You have no idea what you're asking for..."

"Yes I do! G - Go ahead! Test me! You caught me unprepared before, which was_ your_ advantage, so go on, make a fool out of me! _Prove me wrong!_"

To her surprise, the powerful wizard did not immediately draw his wand but slowly cocked his head to one side, his black eyes scrutinizing her very closely. She had no idea if it was out of intrigue or amusement. After an agonizing pause, however, he did withdraw his wand from somewhere underneath his robes. Hermione immediately stiffened as the Head of Slytherin House contorted his body rather gracefully into a dueling stance for her. His left arm was raised from behind, the right holding his instrument straight out, his knees slightly bent and his waist tilted to one side. His face was unnervingly calm, every shred of his being completely under some kind of indescribable magical control.

_This was a mistake_, Hermione thought fleetingly as her heart started to race. _Hermione, you fool..._

Just as the thought crossed her mind, Severus's nostrils flared and his pupils dilated, as if he had intuitively read her mind; then he cast a series of hexes so fast, Hermione barely could comprehend what was happening. She fought and blocked and ducked, sending only a handful of nonverbals back. The hexes just kept coming, unceasing, and each seemingly more powerful than the last.

There was no sense of time, no comprehension of what was being cast, though there were a handful of hexes that Hermione had never seen before in her life. Then, caught up in the frenzy, having never dueled with someone of this power in her life, a stunning spell hit her in the stomach and sent her toppling onto the floor, knocking the wind out of her.

Everything was black for a moment, until Hermione realized that there was, in actuality, a dark figure towering over her: Severus Snape. His robes fell down to her eye level like a cascading waterfall, his long hair shaping the frame of his strikingly high cheekbones, hooked nose, and strong jaw line.

When he kneeled down before her, Hermione flinched and brought her wand to her chest. It suddenly dawned on her that she was breathing heavily whilst her teacher didn't appear to be experiencing the slightest bit of exhaustion. She swallowed at receiving his icy glare, now too close for comfort, and felt her spine shiver as his cold eyes bore into hers.

"I..." she started, but Severus's sharp hiss frightened her into submission.

"Detention, Granger," he drawled, every syllable acute, "until Christmas break." He paused, watching her warm eyes swirl and her pink lips tremble. "Don't ever test me like that again, you foolish girl, or you'll regret it."

It would take a buffoon not to pick up on the dangerous promise in Severus's threat and Hermione remained pinned to the floor, unable to move or even shake her head in accordance to his wishes. Severus seemed to take her silence as confirmation that she would obey and rose, drifting away out of sight without another word.

Hermione waited for his footsteps to die away before she finally sat up, her wild curls repositioning themselves against gravity, and gawked at the empty, open doorway, entirely breathless._ I can't believe I just did that..._

* * *

Hermione went searching for Harry after her combat with Snape, fully prepared to not find him, thinking he would probably be with Ron as usual. But to her much needed relief, she found him sans Ron in the Great Hall, eating a late lunch with Neville and Luna. The Great Hall was virtually deserted, another stroke of good luck, so Hermione rushed in and plopped herself down, relaying the whole incident to them without taking a moment for air.

"Bloody hell, 'Mione!" Harry gasped, as he and the others ogled her with their mouths hanging open.

"I know," she groaned miserably. "I don't know what I was thinking. I must be completely mental."

"That's for sure!" Neville muttered, stunned, his half-eaten scone dangling from his hand.

"I - I was just so infuriated!"

Hermione bit her lip, thinking over the past few weeks. There was the shock of Ron going out with Lavender, not having had Harry for regular company anymore since he started hanging out with Ginny more often, increased feelings of isolation, loneliness, and anger at the world and herself, unfamiliar, new questions about her self-image and self-worth...

As Hermione reflected over these changes, she quickly realized that all her bent up feelings had only been exasperated by Snape's comments, nothing more. She and her friends had been the target of unfriendly gossip for years. Why was what Professor Snape said about her any different?

Hermione ran her fingers over her soft curls and gulped. "Snape is the last person I should have ever pissed off..."

Though not realizing she had expressed that thought aloud, there was an echo of agreement around the table. Harry shook his head, giving her a sincere look of empathy. "Your life's going to be miserable for the next month, 'Mione. By the time Christmas rolls around, you'll be as grumpy as the old bat."

"Thanks a lot!"

"Well, it's true. Trust me, _I know_."

"Yes, I know you do," she sighed, placing her chin in her palm.

Suddenly, Luna asked breathlessly, "What was it like?" Her blue eyes were somewhat unfocused as she stared at Hermione, waiting for an answer.

"Sorry?"

"What was it like to duel Snape? I've often wondered. He's _so_ fast. Quickest reflexes I've ever seen. I don't know another wizard who matches him."

"Dumbledore's about as quick as they come."

Harry sounded somewhat slighted, even resentful, but Luna didn't seem to pick up on his tone. "Yes, I'm sure he is," she replied airily, "though, I must say, I find it very hard to believe anyone could top Snape. Makes you think, doesn't it?"

Everyone stared at her, befuddled as they always were by the Ravenclaw's strange bouts of commentary. Finally, Neville spoke up, "Um, think about what?"

"How dangerous Snape really is..."

At this, there was a long, drawn out pause. No one said a word for a time, and only Harry and Hermione locked eyes with each other. Knowing their past run-ins with the terribly cunning Slytherin, there was no mistaking Luna's valid observation.

Hermione shifted the topic back to her ghastly blunder, however, and broke the silence with a whine. "Ugh, how could I be so stupid?"

"Well, look at the bright side," Neville offered, and everyone gave him a perplexed look, "this could be your opportunity to prod Snape for details about which side he's on."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You've got to be joking, Neville."

"Hang on," Harry chimed in with a wicked smile. "That's brilliant, Neville!"

"_What?_" Hermione's mouth dropped. "Harry, you can't be serious!"

"Why not? You've already pissed him off, and you'll be serving detention for a while anyhow; might as well make the most of it. And if anyone could ever get Snape to confide anything, it would probably be you."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You're probably the only student bright enough to keep up with him, Hermione," said Neville, with a crooked, kindhearted grin. "You could probably trick him into talking without him realizing it. None of us could."

"Oh, come off it, Neville. That's impossible, and you know it. No one trumps Snape."

Neville shrugged. "Yeah, you're probably right, but like Harry said, _you_ could at least get him talking. None of us would stand a chance."

"Well, thanks for the compliment, but I'd really prefer _not_ to talk to Snape anymore than is necessary. I don't need to have him put me in detention for the rest of the school year. The man's so..."

"Awful?" Harry snickered, as he and Neville began bantering back and forth.

"Spiteful?"

"Conceited?"

"Greasy?"

"Nasty?"

"Foul?"

"A total git?"

"All right, all right," Hermione conceded, laughing for the first time since the incident, grateful to feel her rattled nerves lifting a bit. "You've made your point."

"Sorry, Hermione." Neville eyed her with the greatest sympathy. Having been one of the primary targets of the professor's verbal attacks on Gryffindor House since year one, Hermione knew where Neville's empathy was coming from.

"Me, too," she mumbled, back to feeling just as unhappy as before.

Neville and Luna finished up their lunch and headed out to the courtyard, but Harry and Hermione remained. Harry was still in shock over what his close friend had done, but seeing how depressed she was, he tried to remain as upbeat about the matter as possible. But even he knew that nothing involving Snape was cheerful. _Ever_.

"Well, I know one person besides me who will be really, really pleased with what you did."

Hermione scrunched up her nose. "Who's that?"

"Ron."

As the realization hit, she gave Harry a contented smirk. After a short pause, she asked, "Any idea how his detentions with Snape are going?"

"Awful, apparently. He hasn't said much, as a matter of fact."

"Well, I would expect nothing less. How's his nose?"

"Ugly as sin. You didn't notice this morning when he came into the common room with Lavender?"

"No," Hermione confessed, disappointed. "I was a bit lost in my thoughts."

"Well, his nose is fractured in two places."

"_Really?_"

"Yeah. I may not care at all for the man, but I have to hand it to Snape. The git knows how to throw a punch."

Thinking over vividly of Ron with a battered nose—something she knew would be far less appealing to Lavender Brown—Hermione couldn't help but grin again. _At least _some_ satisfaction can come from all this..._

* * *

"This is a wonderful opportunity, Severus," said Dumbledore, with that same twinkle in his eyes he so often bestowed when he was implying more than whatever was being uttered. He watched Severus pace back and forth before him, his black robes waving like a flag as he moved silently across the floor, his face contorted in agony.

"I don't approve of this, Albus!" He whipped his head towards the Headmaster, who was seated at his desk, his hands propped together. "I've told you repeatedly that we shouldn't let any of them interfere, least of all _her!_"

"Why her in particular, Severus?"

"Because she's far too confident and hot headed!"

"That's a lie, and you know it. She's the brightest, Severus, that is why, and the most reliable of any student at that. I also think you underestimate Miss Granger's abilities."

"Hardly!" Severus snapped, as he continued to pace.

"Well, in any case, I told you before that the time is absolutely crucial, and now Miss Granger will be serving detentions with you. Now we needn't come up with a more elaborate method of instruction. I trust you to make the most of it."

Severus growled his noncompliance and halted before Dumbledore's desk, staring down at him with a dark scowl, as if he were truly in pain. "Why are you doing this to me, Albus?"

His soft, sore tone seemed to surprise the Headmaster, who leaned forward in his chair. "I am not trying to make things more difficult for you, Sev—"

"_Really?_" He straightened his shoulders. "I find that hard to believe!"

"Severus, need I remind you that _you_ agreed to this?" Dumbledore's response was patient but assertive, and it made Severus's upper lip curl back in disgust. "Working with Miss Granger is not the most trying thing in the world. It is of little importance when you consider what you _will_ have to do—eventually, that is..."

Severus's eyes sharpened and he took a calculated breath before replying, "I would rather you brought Minerva into this mess than involve a seventeen-year-old, Albus. This could be catastrophic if she cracks. Won't these students be subjected to enough once matters turn?"

"You mean to tell me you actually _care_ about the welfare of the students?" Albus teased, giving Severus a childish grin that made Severus's stomach churn unpleasantly.

"Must everything I say be a joke to you?"

Albus's smile quickly evaporated, his wrinkled face turning grave in a flash. "I didn't mean it like that, Severus. Forgive me. _Of course_ I understand your reservations, and you make very valid points, but we have already decided not to bring Minerva into these affairs. We decided that years ago. Things are in motion now that cannot be undone.

"Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley are closest to Harry. Therefore, it has to be one of them. We made our pick, and you have to go through with it. There's nothing more to discuss."

Severus snapped his head around and swiftly exited Dumbledore's office without another word, his boots pounding along the stone floors to illustrate the sheer magnitude of his fury at the plan in motion.

* * *

Hermione made her way to the D.A.D.A. classroom the following Saturday with the utmost reluctance. She had tried to implore Professor McGonagall to make her punishment with the Head of Slytherin House less severe, knowing it probably wouldn't work in her favor. And, alas, it didn't.

_"Miss Granger, I'm quite shocked by what you did! Nothing—with, perhaps, the exception of one of the Unforgivable Curses being performed upon a student—gives a pupil the right to attack a teacher. You are certainly the very last person I would expect to behave in such a manner! I'm disappointed. You _will_ serve detention with Professor Snape every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday until Christmas break, and that's final. I take it you've learned from this?"_

_"Yes, Professor."_

Hermione hadn't relayed the details of what Severus said that caused her to react the way she had, but then she also disliked others fighting her battles for her. She was a true Gryffindor at heart, and if she couldn't stand up for herself, no one else would. Certainly not Ron, and maybe not even Harry on occasion.

Hermione gulped as she reached the heavy oak door that would lead her inside. _What a dreadful waste of a Saturday, and for six weeks! Damn it, Hermione!_

Hermione poked her head inside, surveying the darkened room apprehensively. Even on the weekends, the room evidently didn't improve. Snape still never opened the shutters and kept the place purposely dreary and morbid.

_Just like himself._

Hermione didn't spot Snape at first, but heard his silky-smooth baritone across the room, the sudden sound of his address making her jump, "Come in, Miss Granger."

Snape appeared as if from nowhere, emerging from the shadows where only his face was distinguishable. The rest of him blended into the background like a moody Baroque painting. His eyes were as dark and inscrutable as ever, his skin glowing with an unnaturally whitened hue, and he stood rigidly with his hands hidden behind his back, watching and waiting for her in a chilly silence.

* * *

**A/N #2: Here we go...!  
**


	6. Vows of Selflessness

**A/N: The last chapter was a lot shorter than I anticipated it to be when I uploaded it. My apologies. Chapters _will_ get longer though.  
**

******Let the fighting, intrigue, fighting, curiosity, fighting, and attraction begin... ;) And yes, they _will_ argue. _A lot_. But maybe they'll kiss and make up eventually?**

**_Much thanks to my beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Vows of Selflessness**

Hermione was beginning to grow agitated. Though she still found Severus Snape intimidating beyond measure, his scare tactics were becoming a waste of their time. He had been circling her for nearly a half hour, staring her down with those fiercely guarded eyes of his, without uttering a single word to her.

Every so often, Hermione chanced saying something to him, but he quickly shot her down with a snide remark, so Hermione gave up and stared at the array of potions ingredients on a nearby table, as well as a large cauldron that softly simmered and steamed, permeating the air with a peculiar scent she couldn't identify. She hadn't noticed that he was in the midst of brewing until she had fully entered the room. How he could work in such darkness was beyond her.

Finally, Snape broke the silence in a low, gruff voice. "You know why you're here, Granger?"

"Yes, sir." She paused. "Though I still think what I did was partly justified."

Snape stopped circling her and narrowed his eyes. She suspected he would be taken aback by her response and that somewhat pleased her. "_Justified?_" he repeated angrily.

"Well, you _did_ purposely catch me off guard the first time you dueled me in class, so I hardly see how that was fair to begin with, and then to insult me in the manner that you did was exceptionally crass and unprofessional. I know it's something you regularly do, but it wasn't called for, and I'd had enough. I shouldn't have drawn my wand on you, Professor. I know that now, and I apologize for my lapse of judgment. But you weren't entirely in the right either."

Snape was admittedly dazed by this but gathered himself too swiftly for Hermione to notice. His moves were so subtle that, if not seen at a close enough proximity, one might think the man had no emotional range whatsoever.

"You are out of line _again_, Granger."

"Am I?"

"_Yes!_" he spat louder than he had meant to. Hermione startled and immediately fidgeted with her hands as he continued, "I will not get into the manner with which I addressed you. I am your superior and your instructor. If you have a problem with that, you will just have to stew over your misfortunes in private. You're not here to be coddled, cooed over, and given a pat on the back every time you give a mechanical answer that stems directly from a textbook. Until you learn to think for yourself, to apply your full range and _listen_ to what I have to tell you, you are a waste of my efforts."

Hermione projected a blank stare at the professor for a time. She didn't really know how to respond. His words were harsh, direct, and seemingly without feeling or much regard.

"Yes, sir," she whispered at last, resolving not to argue. For now.

"Very well. Since you will regretfully be taking up the majority of my Saturdays for the next month and a half, I intend to make use of you while you are in my hands."

Hermione's eyebrows came together. "Sir?"

Snape did not answer but instead stomped back to the potion he was brewing. He picked up a thick textbook from one of his working tables and brought it over to Hermione, shoving it forcefully into her hands.

"I want you to research whatever you can on Five-Finger Grass. I want to determine _all_ of its possible uses, and, more importantly, I wish to know how it was used, successfully or not, by other Potion-makers in combination with other medical ingredients."

"Five-Finger Grass?" Hermione turned over the book in her hands and surveyed the title: _Madame Bedgeberry's Book of Herbs and Their Meticulous Uses_. A trigger of their former conversation in the library came back to her, and she scrutinized him more carefully. "That's used in Blood-Replenishing, isn't it?"

Snape simply nodded and returned to the bubbling cauldron, stirring it elegantly with a wave of his wrist a few times before he addressed her again. "I presume you brought your quill and parchment?"

"Um, yes, Professor, but what does this have to do with—"

"That's none of your concern, Granger. Do as I ask." He gave a curt nod in the direction of a large stack of disheveled books in the corner. "There are plenty more there to further your investigation. I checked them out of the library yesterday. I expect you to go through every one of them and demand that you be thorough in your findings."

Realizing that such a tedious task would easily take up the remainder of her day in detention, Hermione grumbled an irritable "Fine," and wandered to a desk at the front of the room. She took a seat and began to read, every now and then peering up at Severus as he worked rather relentlessly, without breaks or a shift in focus.

Hermione had never realized just how quiet the Potions Master was. _No wonder he was able to creep up on her and her friends so unexpectedly._ His tall, lanky frame hardly made a sound as he alternated between his working station and the cauldron. Every move was precise, delicate, and after some time, Hermione found herself completely distracted and enraptured by his movements and what he was doing.

As Snape stirred the undisclosed potion and added various contents to the process, he would repeatedly raise his hand and other ingredients would either levitate into his grasp or make their way into the brew on their own. When he was at his working bench, he would physically grind leaves, whilst his mind severed bark and twigs with a blade or poured liquids together to make a fresh ingredient. At any given moment, Snape performed several tasks simultaneously, and yet, there was no chaos or confusion to his method of working. He was careful, clean, and moved about quite gracefully and unimpaired, which Hermione found astounding. It was almost like a dance.

_So _this_ is the difference between a Potions Apprentice and a Potions Master..._

Hermione admittedly didn't care much for the subject, but she did exceedingly well on her O.W.L.s and received a gracious Outstanding from the professor. It was a surprise, to say the least; however, he was still exceedingly critical of her, so it was little wonder she didn't express much interest.

Hermione found a peculiarity in watching Snape practicing Potion-making in an entirely different setting, even though the atmosphere was still as gloomy as ever. For years, his home had been the dungeons, and if Hermione and her friends ever spotted him brewing, which was a rarity in itself, it was in that unfriendly part of the castle where no one really cared to venture.

As she observed his work, Hermione found herself wondering if the man missed his old dwellings, or if he preferred being where he was now. After all, it wasn't a secret that Severus Snape had desired the D.A.D.A. post for years, but Hermione couldn't help but sense something off kilter about the professor here. It didn't entirely seem to suit him; or perhaps she just wasn't used to seeing him in new settings.

"Granger, I fail to see how watching me work will help in aiding my research." Hermione jerked in her chair. Severus wasn't even looking at her. His back was turned to her as he stirred the pot and levitated two small jars towards the cauldron. "Get back to work."

"Sorry, sir," she replied, embarrassed at having been caught staring again. Just as she was about to reread the paragraph she was on, she chanced another quick glance. "May I ask what you're working on?"

"You may not," he drawled lazily, not with bitterness, but without much interest in sharing.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed loud enough for Snape to hear, returning to her assignment. After a few minutes, Snape slowly turned around to survey the young lady, now seated quietly with her head down, puzzled by how forthright she was turning out to be.

Snape couldn't make much sense of the girl. He had never taken a liking to her as a student, but there was an indisputable shift happening in her; perhaps it had begun over the summer months, but he didn't know. One thing was certain: Hermione Granger was turning into a stronger and seemingly more self-assured young woman than Snape would ever have guessed. He couldn't pinpoint how or when this transformation had begun, and he was far too busy to remember or focus on such trivial observations; however, she certainly wasn't the same Gryffindor from last year or from any year before. _Something_ in her had changed, and Snape hadn't decided yet whether it was for the better or not.

By the late afternoon, and after a half hour break for lunch, Hermione had successfully skimmed through two very thick books on herbs and had at least a dozen notes to her credit. She had no grasp on what the Potions Master was looking for, but she hoped he would be satisfied, nevertheless.

Snape had brewed several potions throughout the day as she read, and Hermione couldn't help but be impressed by how swift, orderly and dedicated he was. Granted, he looked fairly drained by the time she finished with her note-taking, but he showed no indication of stopping anytime soon.

Realizing he wasn't going to dismiss her, Hermione finally approached his work bench and cleared her throat. "Professor?"

"What?" he replied without regard.

"May I be excused?"

Snape turned to her and blinked hard. For a moment, he seemed to be lost in a daze or, she suspected, his work. But then reality of the time set in on his worn features, and he frowned a little deeper. "Your notes?" he demanded, putting his stirring rod aside.

Hermione held out several pieces of parchment for him to take, which he scrutinized without saying anything. Then, at last, he peered up at her, and Hermione could detect the weariness that lingered behind the black eyes. She almost felt sorry for him, but it was a passing emotion.

"Very well. You may go, Miss Granger."

"Will they do?" she pressed quietly, though she hadn't a clue why. She was as desperate as any Gryffindor to get away from the man.

Snape hesitated, his pale brow furrowing as he stared at her with more focus. "Yes," he said after a moment, "they are satisfactory." He turned away and returned to his potion, leaving her standing before him rather stupidly.

Hermione gathered up her belongings and exited the classroom, relieved that it was over, but more irritated than ever. If every detention was going to be _this_ painful, it would be a terribly long, grueling few weeks till Christmas.

* * *

"So did you go to the library like I asked?" Hermione demanded when she got back to the common room, spotting Harry seated at a table going over some new Quidditch maneuvers.

"'Mione, it _is_ the weekend, you know." She gave a theatrical roll of her eyes and plopped down beside him. "How did it go with Snape?"

"Dreadful."

Harry snorted and glanced over his Quidditch notes. "I figured as much. What'd he have you do? Write 'I will not hex the Bat of the Dungeons' one hundred thousand times on the blackboard?"

"No, but I daresay I'd have rather done that than what he assigned me with. I had to look up a particular herb for him and takes notes on what I found that _might_ be of benefit to him. Several books' worth."

Harry's green eyes darted to hers, intrigued. "Really? What for?"

"His research; what he mentioned in the library that I told you about. Five-Finger Grass."

"Oh. Sounds appropriately dull, just like the old sod. What did he do? Did he leave you alone at least?"

"Most of the time, yes, which I'm grateful for. He brewed potions the entire day and was still working on one when I left. He allowed me a thirty minute break for lunch, but he just kept working. He doesn't really take breaks, actually."

"Well, what else is he going to do?" Harry asked with a chuckle. "Talk to the walls? Go for a casual stroll around the castle? The man has no social life, 'Mione; it's no wonder he's a workaholic."

"True." Hermione found that notion about the professor rather sad, but Harry didn't seem to think much on it. "So, where's Ginny? And Ron?"

"Ginny's hanging with a few of her friends and Ron... Well, I'm sure you can guess who he's with."

"I don't care," Hermione replied testily, and a small smile escaped Harry's lips that he quickly tried to subdue.

When Hermione spotted a familiar piece of parchment spread out next to Harry's Quidditch notes, she inched closer. "Why do you have the Marauder's Map out?" Hermione fought with her conscious not to search the map for Ron's and Lavender's names.

"Draco," Harry answered matter-of-factly.

"You're not still convinced he's a Death Eater, are you?"

"Of course I am!" Harry turned to her, his cheeks reddening. "He's up to something, 'Mione, I know it. Snape is too, but Snape's _always_ up to something."

Hermione decided not to push either of those subjects and diverged to another topic. "Any luck with Slughorn?"

"No. Whatever Dumbledore wants me to find out, it has something to do with Voldemort, but I haven't the slightest idea. Do you?"

Hermione had thought over the matter long and hard for the past month but had drawn no conclusions. She shook her curly, chestnut locks and offered an apologetic look. Harry simply went back to what he was doing, allowing Hermione to reflect upon her god-awful day in silence.

"Half-Blood Prince," she murmured aloud after a while. Harry peered over at her, waiting for her to finish her thought. "I wish we had something to go on besides that young woman's name in the book..."

"It's still bugging you that much?"

"Doesn't it interest you anymore?"

"Sure, it does."

"But you're going to leave _me_ to figure it out on my own, aren't you?" She stared him down, but Harry just gave her a wide grin that spread from ear to ear.

"You're the brightest, remember?"

* * *

Severus folded his arms over his chest and stared down at the blond Slytherin whom he had known since well before Hogwarts, since infancy, in fact. Draco appeared relatively put out and tired, which Severus noted immediately upon the boy's sluggish entrance into his classroom that evening. His complexion was whiter than usual as he stared up at his godfather, his face mangled by fear. It reminded Severus a little too much of himself at Draco's age, and the reflection was more unsettling than the boy could possibly comprehend.

"Draco, you _must_ give me more information. This won't do."

"I'd rather not. Let me make some more headway and then I'll let you know—"

"No," said Severus, his command stern.

"But—"

"If I am summoned before the Dark Lord this very night, he will want a progress report on you, Draco. What shall I tell him? That you refuse to tell me anything, and are thereby withholding information from the Dark Lord? If I tell him I have _nothing_, Draco, it won't be just my head on the chopping block. _You_ and your family will be his next targets, I can assure you."

Draco twitched nervously and ran his fingers through his thick locks. "Um," he stumbled weakly, "well, I did manage to transfer an apple to Borgin and Burke's and back, but..."

"Go on."

"It wasn't a complete success..."

Severus didn't speak for a time; instead, he stared at the sixth year as if he were peering straight through him to his very soul. Even Draco found his godfather quite intimidating most of the time. He knew Severus was an exceptional mind reader—a highly gifted Legilimens _and_ Occlumens—but his moves were so often undetectable that Draco couldn't be sure when Severus was invading his mind or not. Even with his Aunt Bellatrix teaching him a bit of Occlumency herself, Draco lacked the proper skills and suspected his godfather of being able to read him anyhow.

"Draco," Severus finally muttered after a pause, his voice quieter than before, "if you need my assistance—"

"No! I'm fine! I already told you before—"

"Make no mistake, Draco, if you fail, there _will_ be consequences. It won't be a mere slap on the wrist, and I won't be able to protect you."

"I know! And I told you before, I don't need protection!" Draco's face lost what little color remained, and he abruptly turned away from Severus and sprinted out of the room.

"Draco!" Severus called after him, but it was too late. The boy was gone.

Severus heaved a weighty sigh and rubbed at his bloodshot eyes, suddenly drained of what little energy he had left. It had been a long, trying weekend—nothing out of the ordinary—and Severus concluded that he would just have to muster some vitality and soldier through the night as usual. He had a pile of papers to grade and other important matters to put into motion. Sleep would have to wait.

Retreating to his office, Severus took out a small phial from his personal storage cabinet of potions and downed the liquid in one gulp. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes and allowed the medicine to enter his system, feeling the remedy take hold. It went first into his bloodstream, then to every muscle in his sore body, and then straight to his tattered nerves.

Taking several deep breaths, Severus opened his eyes as his body adjusted, now much calmer than before. _This all will be the death of me_, he dismissed with a frustrated snarl. _Just as well..._

As he strolled around his desk to take a seat in his leather-bound chair, he caught sight of Hermione Granger's handwriting. He hadn't looked over her notes thoroughly yet, but now that he finally had a moment to himself, Severus read through each page carefully. His expression shifted slightly into one of favorable impression.

_Well, well, I'm not surprised. At least I can count on her to take more thorough notes than any of the others and to follow my instructions, when she chooses to listen._ While he was through rummaging through the notes, Severus collapsed against the back of his chair and allowed his mind to drift. _Hermione Granger... That insufferable girl. Dumbledore better be right about her, or we are all done for..._

* * *

The following Monday evening, Hermione was given the same task of looking up ingredients related to the Blood-Replenishing Potion. As cross as she was, she was at least grateful to only have a four hour detention, instead of the usual entire Saturday. By Wednesday evening, her clever mind was growing increasingly more curious. Snape never made a point of answering what little questions she proposed, but Hermione decided to keep up the pursuit. If she was going to spend so much time with the nasty man, whom she still felt she didn't know at all after six long years, then Hermione would, as Neville said, 'try to make the most of it.'

"Sir?" she inquired the following Saturday, after a very long period of silence.

Snape glanced up at her from his note-taking at his desk, his dark eyes listless. "What is it, Granger?"

"The antidote that you wish to add to this potion..."

He squinted, a crease forming in the middle of his brow. "Yes?"

"Well, I'm curious to know what it is. You've been very vague about all this."

"Of what interest is my research to you?" he shot back, though the address was a little less abrasive than usual.

Hermione seized this subdued alteration in his character as her opportunity. "Well, since I'm aiding you in your research for the time being, and if it's not too much of a bother, I'd like to know more. I did well enough on my O.W.L.s, sir, as you know, so you wouldn't have to explain it to me in layman's terms."

Hermione tried to sound both respectful and interested, and Snape seemed to be either contemplating the matter or searching for something rude to return her inquiry with. Hermione wasn't sure which, so she waited. Snape held her gaze for an extended period of silence, a trait Hermione was relatively used to by now. The wizard was always in complete control, never out of sync with his mind or his mouth. When he finally responded, his voice did not carry the dryness it usually bore.

"It's anti-venom." Hermione hadn't expected that answer and her look of confusion was a giveaway, so Severus expanded further, "Ever since Nagini's bite nearly killed Arthur Weasley last year, I have been researching an improved antidote that can combat the venom more effectively. The most practical but also most beneficial two that aid in the healing process of a snake bite, Blood-Replenishing and Strengthening Solution, are also quite dangerous when mixed; however, they are much more effective than any other two medical combinations I've found. Thus, I am trying to come up with a successful solution that will combine the two when mixed with the antidote itself."

"Oh," Hermione breathed, thinking over the information she had just collected, "and so the ingredients you've had me research...?"

"It is not enough to simply make one potion, then another, and then combine the two. Surely, you know this by now, Granger. Careful, sometimes minuscule alterations to the contents of each potion must be made in order for it to work successfully; sometimes even new ingredients must be added, which seems to be where my research is headed.

"That is why, Granger, I've had you research each ingredient extensively for me, so that I might easily track what might work, what won't, and so forth. I need all that information at my disposal together in one place, so that I do not lose my mind trying to recall something that, to you, may seem trivial and of no particular importance, but, to this potion, is the difference between success and failure."

"Oh, I see," Hermione whispered, wrapped up in Snape's words. He spoke much more passionately about Potion-making than he ever had to her knowledge before, and she found his enthusiasm rather intriguing. "Why this potion in particular?"

Snape's face froze for the first time since they had locked eyes on one another. Hermione noted the faint narrowing of his irises and the small flicker of light that swept across them before he answered quietly, "Nagini is the most dangerous, most deadly snake in the world. I would have thought the answer would be obvious."

"Oh." Hermione bit her lip, abashed at her foolishness.

_Of course_ she should have known, but then, this was Professor Snape. He, of all people, wanted to create an antidote against the dangerous reptile of his possible former master? After all, she and most of the school were still relatively unsure whether or not Severus Snape had seen the error of his ways. _Doesn't seem like him_, she considered, deeply puzzled.

Then Snape's ebony eyes shimmered again unexpectedly, gripping Hermione's attention, and she stared back, overtaken by their intensity. "If anyone else were unfortunate enough to be bitten by Nagini, then would it not be helpful—_clever_ even—to have an antidote on hand? Arthur Weasley is not the first to fall victim to Nagini, Miss Granger, and I daresay he will not be the last."

To this statement, a deadly silence followed. Hermione's sharp mind brooded over his explanation, but she was having trouble making sense of it all. Severus Snape was the last person one would expect to assist _anyone_. Granted, he seemed faithful enough to Professor Dumbledore, but even Hermione still had her doubts about the mysterious figure sitting across from her at his desk. There was something routinely aloof about him, in the way he walked about with blatant disregard for others. He was not the type of person she would go to if in trouble or in need of help, that's for sure.

Hermione could not contain her surprise at learning that _this_ was what Severus Snape was spending so much of his time on, and it gave her pause as she thought over his actions and his research for the rest of the evening and into the days that followed.

* * *

**A/N #2****: The next chapter will offer a bit more about this whole 'absolutely necessary' business. It's not really a major plot disclosure as to _why_ he's instructing her, but there _is_ something else brewing that Hermione doesn't know about. I'll be dropping more hints soon.  
**

**Shameless Plug: There's _a lot_ more gorgeous artwork that's been added to my Profile. Many are from the original _Unquestionable Love_, but there's also one from the Prequel. It's of an upcoming scene between Severus and Hermione, and it won't happen for a little while yet, but perhaps it'll be something to look forward to? :) Check it all out under my Profile; the artists who've done these have mind-boggling talent and are definitely worth exploring.  
**


	7. Brewing Ideas

**A/N: You'll notice at the beginning of this chapter that I'm foregoing Lucius's stint in Azkaban prison. As I said before, I will be pretty faithful to the timeline in some regards and not in others. Time to get these detentions under way.  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Brewing Ideas**

"Lucius, you continue to astound me," Lord Voldemort hissed, his voice oozing with mockery.

Lucius Malfoy, a prominent follower of the Dark Lord with long, blond locks and an arrogant smug that left the world cold, took a few steps back and lowered his steel blue eyes, unable to look his master in the face. There was no arrogance now.

Voldemort, meanwhile, reclined in an oversized armchair, with Nagini slithering up and down the curve of its spine, weaving herself around the Dark Lord's head so that she was only inches from his face. Both wizard and snake eyed Lucius without empathy or concern.

Severus kept himself at arm's length from Voldemort, his hands behind his back as he and several other Death Eaters lining the room in a circle stared at Lucius with indifference. Though he and Lucius were still somewhat close, having grown up together at Hogwarts, Severus still believed much of the trouble his old friend found himself in was of the wizard's own making. Thus, he stayed back and waited for the Dark Lord's instructions. His acute senses already suspected what was to come.

Lucius had become a heavy target of the Dark Lord's torture methods ever since he failed to obtain the Prophecy from Harry months before at the Ministry of Magic. Voldemort repeatedly made him pay for his terrible blunder and it seemed tonight would be no different from any other.

"My - My Lord," Lucius stuttered, "Draco is making great strides, I - I can assure you. He - He's told me himself of his progress. Your Lordship will be pleased, I pro - promise you."

Voldemort said nothing, only surveyed Lucius pitilessly. Then he called out rather lazily, "Severus." The somber professor stepped forward, mechanically peering down at the evil man.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Tell Lucius what you reported to me before his arrival."

Lucius's eyes sparked when they met Severus's, only to find no mercy in his old classmate's expression. "Draco informed me nearly a week ago that he has not made much progress, but that he wants more time."

Severus didn't want to speak too ill of Draco. He cared for his godson, though he may not show it. Even if he hadn't taken the Unbreakable Vow, Severus would still honor his pledge to the students in his house, Draco included. He would protect them at whatever cost was necessary, for they had no one else...

There was no use, however, in not feeding Voldemort some element of the truth about the boy's slow strides. Severus's use of Occlumency far surpassed his superior's, but if the Dark Lord were to suspect that Severus wasn't telling the complete truth, there would be no leniency, so Severus didn't hesitate. He knew Lucius would take his words as an offense—failing to see past the exterior to the sincerity that lay beyond—and that Lucius wouldn't see the_ real_ message Severus was trying to convey: he needed to buy Draco more time.

"Draco understands how - how important this is, my Lord."

"Do _you?_"

The atmosphere in the room died with these two simple words. Lucius drew back, his hands visibly shaking. His wife, Narcissa, stood as frozen as a statue in the corner and locked eyes with Severus, clinging to some glimmer of hope for her son that the professor might be able to communicate noiselessly, but there was nothing. Just a stone cold reserve.

The Dark Lord rose from his chair, his wand in hand. A cruel smile formed across his thin lips. "Severus, if you would, please..."

"Yes, my Lord," Severus uttered without hesitation. He took only a few steps forward and raised his wand at his old friend. Lucius's eyes expanded, his body stiffening at the onslaught of what was to come. "_Crucio_," Severus cast, emotionlessly and seemingly without regard for his target.

Lucius collapsed to the floor instantly and convulsed, his head whipping this way and that as the pain of the Unforgivable Curse flooded his senses, his limbs, and his mind. The rest of the Death Eaters snickered, seemingly enjoying the scene; only Severus's reaction was decidedly mute and indifferent. His intense eyes flickered at the flames dancing off of the fireplace, but his face was as somber as could be. He watched the curse from his wand penetrate his poor friend's body, wanting to look away but unable to do so.

Severus wasn't permitted to stop. That decision belonged to his contemptible master, and he inwardly prayed for release. Finally, Lord Voldemort's quiet voice called out, "That's enough."

Severus lowered his wand immediately, and Lucius fell still, his eyes squeezed shut as the effects of the curse continued to course through his veins. Severus bowed his head and stepped aside as Voldemort glided to the fallen Death Eater sprawled in the middle of the room, his slits for eyes squinting at Lucius with an evil grin still etched on his face. "Do you understand now, Lucius?"

"Yes, my - my Lord," his victim barely managed to whimper.

"I am glad we are getting the message."

"Well, what about Snivellus here?" Bellatrix barked unexpectedly, surprising everyone by speaking out of turn. "_He's_ supposed to be aiding Draco, isn't he? He hasn't lifted a finger, my Lord. _He's_ the one who should be punished!"

The Dark Lord's frown was enough to make the maddening witch lapse back into silence. She quickly diverted her gaze from her master, instead focusing all her energy on Severus, who was just feet away.

_Damn wench!_ Severus fumed privately, his shoulders tensing. _When will the vixen desist in her pursuit of my blood?_

Voldemort eyed his dark servant curiously for a moment before asking, "What say you, Severus?"

"My Lord, I will, of course, aid Draco if he asks it of me. I have given him many opportunities so far, but he has repeatedly refused my help. I await your instructions on when, and if, you wish me to take over for the boy."

"Only if necessary, Severus."

"Of course, my Lord."

"Although, I must confess, Bellatrix has brought something of value to light."

_Damn it._

Severus's eyes darted towards the crazy witch, now ogling him with a most sinister, yellow smile spread wide across her cheeks. She looked positively evil, turning her wand over in her fingers gingerly, craving her chance to strike.

"You see," Voldemort continued, "I had hoped for more information than what you brought me tonight, Severus. I informed you last time that I wanted more concrete details. I have to admit, you haven't performed much better this time."

Severus knew that had to be a lie and merely an excuse to torture. He had relayed every particular detail he could regarding Draco, without handing the poor boy over to be killed and done with. Severus quickly gathered that tonight was to be another night of hell—purely for entertainment purposes—and that _he_ was about to become a welcome target for one of Voldemort's crazy followers.

Severus did not cower as the Dark Lord drew close, unlike Lucius or any of the others who always diverted their gaze or inclined their heads. He stared straight into Voldemort's red eyes and could detect something that seemingly surprised, but also intrigued, his master greatly. No doubt about the dark wizard who refused to submit to him, but dared to look him straight in the face.

"You will have your fun tonight with one another at my expense," Voldemort affirmed, as an apprehensive response echoed around the room. "Bellatrix... Only one go. Severus has done well enough for me in the past, and I do not want my Head of Slytherin House incapable of teaching our future Death Eaters tomorrow. We need our professor to be at his utmost best."

Lucius had finally gotten to his feet, but he and Narcissa stepped away from the crowd of Death Eaters, unable to stomach what was going on. Severus, however, stood firm, his face expressionless; inwardly, however, he was as distressed as would be expected. He wouldn't be permitted to draw his wand without severe consequences. He would simply have to take Bellatrix's curse—whatever might be her fancy this evening—and endure the pain...

"_Diffindo!_" she squealed with undisguised delight, ripping and clawing sounding from beneath Severus's coat.

Severus doubled over in pain, but his long hair masked the agony, and he refused to allow himself to cry out as the stinging sensation of torn flesh on his chest and back grabbed hold. _More scars, that's all_, he told himself in an attempt to _not_ think of the exquisite pain. _It's just more bloody scars._

But then several gasps escaped his mouth. Bellatrix was not giving up after one go and was now ripping at the professor's skin in individual sections, thrilled with what she could decipher beneath the fabric and from Severus's lips. She may not have been able to witness the damage, but she knew the spell was working effectively. It was a sensation a wizard always could perceive at will, and Severus understood that he would receive very little comfort this evening once he returned safely to Hogwarts.

* * *

"An antidote for Nagini?" Harry's initial reaction mirrored Hermione's: shock. It had been a little over a week since she told him, and the surprise, for Hermione, had worn off a bit. Not so for Harry, it seemed.

"Yes."

"But this is Snape. The Death Eater. The selfish prick."

"Yes, I know."

"Are we talking about the same person?"

"Of course we are, Harry!" Hermione chuckled, throwing her Ancient Runes textbook onto her lap.

Harry shrugged and returned to his homework for a time, spreading his legs lazily over each other on the cozy rug before the fireplace in the common room. Ginny had only just left to go to the library with a few of her classmates, and Ron seemed to be going out of his way to avoid Hermione these days more than ever, especially if she happened to be in Harry's company. Harry, on the other hand, was staying neutral, adamant not to take sides.

"You going to Slughorn's Christmas party?"

Hermione blinked and peered down at him from her comfortable recline on the sofa. "Yes, I am. You're going, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I need a date though..."

Hermione smiled wryly, suspecting who Harry wanted to invite but couldn't. Ginny was dating Dean Thomas, something Hermione still couldn't wrap her brain around. There was an obvious attraction between the youngest Weasley and Harry. It had been evident ever since the past summer when they all spent so much time together at the Burrow. The only person who seemed absolutely thick about the whole matter was Ron, which Harry was more than all right with. Hermione, however, wished one of them would just make a move already.

Then a dreadful realization came to her and she shot up on the couch. "Damn it!"

Harry startled and stared up at her, wide-eyed. "What?"

"I was supposed to check out a book from the library for Professor Snape! My detention's in ten minutes! There's no way I'll get to the library _and_ to my detention on time. He'll make me pay for this, I know it!"

Hermione stumbled to her feet and hastily threw her pen, parchment, and textbooks into a magical handbag she had picked up in Diagon Alley over the summer.

"Blimey, 'Mione, is Snape having you step and fetch for him now?" Harry seemed relatively concerned as he watched his frazzled friend collect her things.

"No, not like that, Harry," she sighed. "It's for his research and, honestly, the more information he's shared with me, the more interested I am. You know me; I can't help myself. Anyway, I thought you and Neville wanted me to make the most of my time with Snape, so that's what I'm trying to do."

"Well, yeah, but—"

"I have to go! I'm already going to be late."

Hermione ran out of the common room and made her way to the library as fast as her feet would carry her. By the time she gathered the textbook she needed, checked it out, and sprinted to the D.A.D.A. classroom for her detention session, she was easily a good ten minutes late.

When she hesitantly tip toed into the room, Hermione found Snape leaning against the front of his desk with his arms crossed over his button down jacket. The wicked scowl on his mouth said it all: he was more than a little displeased. Hermione gulped, sensing the repercussions that were coming.

"Detention doesn't start at your leisure, Granger," he snarled after an agonizing pause.

"I - I know. I'm sorry, sir. I'd forgotten you wanted this textbook for your research, so I had to run there first—"

"At the last minute? That's no excuse, and that's your own fault. Ten points for being late, and you can stay an extra hour this evening to make up for your lack of punctuality."

Hermione heaved her shoulders, still trying to catch her breath. "But Professor—"

"Do you have somewhere more pressing to be?"

_Of course! Anywhere but here!_ Hermione knew she couldn't give that answer without further consequences.

"No..."

"Very well. Come here."

Hermione reluctantly went to stand before him. Snape snatched the heavy book from her hands and inspected the covering, the frail binding, and the various pages inside. She waited somewhat foolishly, but it gave her a moment to pause and observe him more intently. His eyelashes, stark and longer than she had imagined, fluttered over the contents of the worn pages and, again, his lips unconsciously moved at a few indecipherable words she couldn't unravel. Then he suddenly turned his gaze to her and Hermione quickly averted her gaze from him.

"Do you consider yourself a religious person?"

Hermione's caramel orbs widened before shrinking to their original size._ That_ was an unexpected question. She surmised that this must have something to do with the book he requested, which admittedly had intrigued her when Snape had made the request during her last detention session. She refrained at the time from inquiring further.

"Um, well, my parents take me to church every year for Christmas, if that's what you mean."

A surprisingly delicate smirk emerged on Snape's mouth, barely detectable if viewed from afar. "I am not remotely interested in your personal life," he issued softly. "It's purely for academic purposes."

Hermione nodded and narrowed her eyes. "What use is a book on immortality and the afterlife to your area of research then, Professor? Seems a bit of a, um, stretch to me..."

"Indeed." Hermione thought she caught a short glistening in the wizard's eyes but then quickly determined that she must have envisioned it. Snape handed the book back to her, this time without force. "In fact, it has very little to do with my research. This is something else entirely. I'd like you to read it, Granger, preferably before your next detention on Saturday. We will have much to discuss."

"What?" Hermione became frazzled. "But sir, I - I have an Ancient Runes exam and a Potions essay that's due—"

"No exceptions."

Hermione fell silent, though her jaw set at a stubborn angle. Snape could see the heat trickling onto her rosy cheeks, displaying her inner resentment, but Dumbledore had asked him to make headway with her, and, so far, he had been quite reluctant to initiate anything. Seeing as her detentions would be over in a matter of weeks, Snape determined tonight that he would begin to introduce what he felt comfortable sharing, which admittedly wasn't much.

_Let's hope she figures out a few things on her own. The less I have to relay to this girl myself, the better. It will only lead to more unnecessary questions._

"Can I at least work on this now?" Hermione huffed, clutching the book to her chest as she so often did.

"You may."

Relieved, Hermione felt her shoulders relax. She sat down at her usual spot and was about to open the bizarre text when she glanced back up at him, another question forming in mind. Snape was still reclined against his desk but was massaging his chest, hinting at some sort of affliction, but he quickly recovered when he caught sight of her staring.

"What is it?" he snapped, causing Hermione to blink.

"Um, well, do you want me to take notes?"

Snape sighed and gingerly stood up straight, which Hermione thought a bit strange. "Yes, whatever you think is relevant," he answered with less severity.

Hermione, however, was still reluctant to start. "What should I be searching for, Professor?"

"I don't know. Whatever you think worthwhile and instructive."

_Well, that's hardly helpful!_ Hermione criticized silently. She sighed, frustrated, and opened the book.

Hermione found herself more wrapped up in the material than she anticipated and easily lost track of time. When she finally glanced up at the clock about two hours later, she spotted Snape seated behind his desk, scribbling onto a piece of parchment with his feathered quill. There were a few additional books piled next to him that hadn't been there before, but Hermione couldn't make out the titles in such poor lighting.

"Professor?"

"What is it?" he drawled, uninterested. He continued to write without giving her his attention.

"How exactly was the Philosopher's Stone destroyed?"

Snape peered up from his work, his skin practically a white sheet against the dramatic darkness engulfing the room. "What has that to do with anything?" he inquired with skepticism. His voice sounded strained to Hermione's ears, which she additionally thought odd, but she pressed on with her question.

"Well, after Harry, Ron and I found the stone and Quirrell was destroyed, Dumbledore had it demolished. I was just wondering _how_ that was done? To destroy something of that magnitude and power must have been difficult..."

There was a long interlude of silence that followed before Snape answered her. "It was relatively easy to destroy, and only because Nicholas Flamel removed the many complicated protective shields he'd placed on the stone. That allowed Dumbledore to destroy it with the simple _Obliteration Charm_."

"Oh."

Sensing her disappointment, Snape laid down his quill and stared, interested despite not wishing to be. She seemed to be on the verge of something, and he could only hope she was headed in the right direction.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, a lot of what's in here pertains to different magical objects and possible potions to obtain immortality. The Philosopher's Stone is mentioned, too, but most of it sounds like a bunch of superstitious nonsense. The Elixir of Life is relevant, yes, but the majority of what's in here sounds like hogwash."

"And?"

Surprised by this subtle dose of encouragement, Hermione perked up in her chair. "If Voldemort wanted to achieve immortality all these years, why didn't he ever go searching for the stone back in the First Wizarding War? Did he not know about it?"

At this, Snape's face relaxed a little. "He did know about the stone, yes, and did try to go after it. Flamel and Dumbledore took every precaution to keep the Dark Lord from discovering its whereabouts."

"Well, then why wasn't it destroyed back then? Didn't anyone see the danger in keeping it protected? Surely, Flamel must have considered the welfare of the rest of the wizarding world—"

"He didn't," Severus interjected with a disapproving scowl. "Nicholas Flamel was a very private alchemist and, as such, not much is known about him except gossip and hearsay; however, he rivaled Dumbledore in his magical powers and capabilities. Everyone knows that. He never destroyed the stone simply because he wasn't ready to die. Destroying the stone would have killed Flamel as well as his wife; it was purely for selfish reasons that Flamel didn't take the most logical course of action possible, which would have benefited many, had he done so. The Dark Lord destroyed many lives in his relentless pursuit of it."

_And Dumbledore was too bloody greedy to have it destroyed either_, Severus reflected with a sour taste in his mouth.

Hermione pondered this information, frowning a little as she surveyed the open book. "Did Voldemort try many of the suggestions in here?"

"Yes, he did, and failed miserably."

Hermione was taken aback by the professor's frankness, but also by how little he seemed to regard the Dark Lord. His tone had subtly changed; it almost sounded like mockery and simply went against everything she and her friends had suspected about him for so long. Not that she trusted him any more now than she had five minutes ago.

"Does this..." She halted before continuing, "Does this text have something to do with Harry?" Severus stared without blinking, so Hermione pushed further. "Is there something in here that might help Harry defeat him?"

Now that the questions had slipped out, she suddenly felt stupid for asking. It was a joke of a book—most of the contents laughable and beyond ludicrous to her way of thinking—but something had still compelled her to ask.

"How would a rubbish book on immortality aid Mr. Potter in defeating the Dark Lord?" Severus retorted after a time. "Unless your infamous friend is planning to brew an Elixir of Life, which he is far too incompetent to achieve without killing himself, then I fail to see the connection, Granger."

"Something about Voldemort then?" she pressed, ignoring Snape's slight. "Did he achieve something in this book?"

Snape carefully folded his hands together on his desk, and the fluorescent hues from a small candle nearby painted more attractive coloring onto his face. He hadn't expected Hermione to come this close so soon and found it encouraging, to say the least. He was even more surprised that the clever girl was able to decipher his subdued gaze, as well as his silence, as enough to inquire further.

"The Elixir of Life," Hermione continued, "obviously prolongs the lifespan of the drinker, but it's not an absolute. It's not the definitive answer to achieving immortality. Voldemort has clearly gone to extended lengths to stay alive as long as he has. _How_ he's done that seems to be a mystery. Unless..." Her voice trailed off as she scrutinized Snape's colorless eyes anew. "Unless _you_ know something, sir. Do you?"

Snape's thin lips came together. Hermione didn't know what to make of his reaction. Everything the man said and did was shrouded in mystery, but her question had certainly stirred him on some level or another.

"My guesses are as good as anyone's, Granger. It is a question that has been sought after for a long time. A pursuit, as I understand it, that is being undertaken by Potter at the present on Dumbledore's orders."

"_Slughorn?_" Hermione could hardly stifle her laughter. "You all think the answer to Voldemort's strides towards immortality lies with _him?_"

"Is that so hard to believe? The Dark Lord was once his pupil. He was the Head of Slytherin House for many years before I took over. He lived through the First Wizarding War—"

"So did you."

It took a moment for Hermione's brain to register the gravity of what she had said, and panic automatically set in when she saw the flicker of anger emerge on Snape's face. His upper lip twitched and the crease between his eyebrows became more pronounced.

"Yes, I did, Granger," he whispered dangerously. "How remarkably observant of you."

"I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like _that_."

"Oh?" he challenged, before dismissing her with an abrupt wave of his hand. "Never mind. Get back to reading. You still have three hours before you can go for the night."

"But—"

"This conversation is over."

Snape returned to his writing, leaving Hermione to scramble her brain back into some kind of order. Surely, there was _more_ to why the professor had requested this book and demanded that _she_ read it. As exhausted as Hermione was with mind puzzles and challenges, having been through more than enough hurdles in the past six years to last a lifetime, the Gryffindor in her never backed down from a challenge, especially if it was instigated by Severus Snape. The man hated her anyhow; all the more reason to uncover whatever secrets might lie beneath the surface.

* * *

"Why aren't you at all bothered by serving detention all day with that nasty, old sod?"

Ron shot Hermione an incredulous look, which she met with equal disdain, over breakfast in the Great Hall the following Saturday morning. "As it so happens, Ron, I _am_ bothered. I'm in for the long haul until Christmas, for Merlin's sake. You'll be done with your detentions much sooner than me."

Ron gave an indecipherable grumble and returned to his half-consumed scrambled eggs. His nose was looking much better, but he had refused to allow Madame Pomfrey to fix it with a simple healing spell that involved snapping it back into place. Instead, he had endured weeks of discomfort as the swelling subsided and his natural skin color reemerged.

_Wuss_, Hermione thought with a contented smirk, though a hint of affection still lingered in her heart.

People were _still_ gossiping incessantly about the physical fist fight between Professor Snape and Ron, and the general consensus from every house—with the exception of Slytherin—was that the slimy git deserved to have his students rebel against him. Ron, much to Hermione's displeasure, seemed to be taking that notion right to his inflated head and was making the most of it, as was Lavender. Even Harry was beginning to have his fill of Ron's boastfulness.

"Does he even remember anymore that _he's_ the one who wound up with the bloody nose?" Neville whispered to Harry and Hermione as they exited the Great Hall, leaving Ron and Lavender to themselves.

"Probably not," Hermione mumbled. "His ego has soared to new heights."

Harry tried to avoid taking sides again. "'Mione—"

"No! It's pathetic, Harry, and you know it!"

That brought the conversation to its swift conclusion, and Hermione made her way to the D.A.D.A. classroom whilst Harry headed to Quidditch practice and Neville went in search of Luna. "Enjoy your day with the Bat of the Dungeons!" Harry called to her as he headed off in the opposite direction, beaming at her as he went.

"He's not _in_ the dungeons anymore, you prat!" Hermione quipped, smiling a little as she made her way to another full day of detention.

Severus was in the midst of prepping a potion when she entered, and Hermione was befuddled to find her usual spot already filled with a few textbooks, fresh parchment, and a pen. Apprehensive but not sure how to inquire without sounding rude, Hermione threw down her bag and waited for Severus to address her or give her instructions. As usual, he took his time, spreading out an array of ingredients at his work station whilst lighting a fire and extracting liquids from various jars at the same time, all without addressing her.

"I thought those texts might steer you in the right direction," he stated with a smooth purr. He continued to inspect the contents of his potion and left her to her own devices.

"In the right direction?"

"Mmm. Per our previous discussion."

Hermione eyed the books curiously. _Advanced Wizard's Guide to Nonverbal Spells_. _Dark Curses, Hexes, and Their Counterparts_.

_I know all this already!_ she huffed, inspecting them with an insulted look.

"I assure you, you will find hexes and jinxes in there you haven't tried or heard of before, Granger."

Hermione startled, wondering if the professor had literally just read her mind, but he didn't show any indication of having done so. After teaching Harry Occlumency last year, Hermione was thoroughly familiar with Snape's gift of mind reading, which made her even more leery when in his presence now.

Snape nodded towards the texts in her hands, pausing mid-brew. "They're first editions; there aren't any left in print to my knowledge. The Ministry had what they could unearth destroyed after the end of the war. These are my personal copies that I managed to salvage."

At this, Hermione carefully set them down and picked up the third book to read its title, when she let out a small gasp and almost dropped the book entirely. Snape whipped his head around and was met with a pair of incredulous, caramel eyes.

"_A How-To Guide to Spells of the Dark Arts?_" she repeated shakily, staring at him as if he had sprouted a second head.

To her utter bewilderment, Snape didn't even flinch. Only his eyes flashed momentarily. He gave a curt nod and broke eye contact to start slicing a handful of scarab beetles.

"If you are to fully appreciate and understand spells used in combat, Granger, then it is imperative that you learn the full range and variations, the light and the dark."

"But this..." Hermione stumbled, not grasping the professor's motives. "This is a banned textbook. You couldn't have gotten something like this from the Restricted Section, could you?"

Severus peered over at her again, a darker expression covering his features. "No, of course not, you silly girl. That one is, again, my personal copy." When Hermione continued to give him a blank stare, he issued a frustrated eye roll. "Yes, it is a banned textbook, Granger, and it's also highly valuable if you wish to expand your knowledge and understand the entire scope of what you will be going up against. I daresay if more wizards had known how to combat many of the Dark Arts magic used in the last war, things might have turned out quite differently."

Hermione stared, still stunned and very confused. "Then what about—"

"I am regrettably not permitted to teach from these books in your Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. Surely, you already know_ why_ I can't."

"Then... _Why_ _me?_ Why am _I_ being given these to read if they're not allowed?"

Severus finally turned around and faced her head on, wiping at the sweat trickling down his forehead. Hermione hadn't noticed that he had been standing so close to the boiling cauldron, nor how relentlessly he had been working as she stood flabbergasted, barraging him with her series of questions.

Unbeknownst to her, however, Snape was also struggling internally with how to approach _this_ conversation. He heaved a weary sigh at last and replied quietly, "Because you are serving detention with me and, as such, I make the rules and can have you read whatever I like. Because I find many controversial books on the Dark Arts not to be misleading or misguided as so many ignorant fools do, but highly instructive in understanding our enemies. And because I think, unlike many of your peers, Miss Granger, that you possess a brain—though you don't always know how to use it properly—and can differentiate between _knowledge_ and _influence_.

"I think you will find these books illuminating in more ways than one, Granger. _That_ is why I'm giving them to you—temporarily—to read at your leisure, at least until the Christmas holiday. Then I would like them back. I trust you to handle them delicately and not to share them with others. The consequences, as I'm sure you are aware, would be severe if they fell into the wrong hands..."

It took a minute or two for Hermione to realize she had been staring at the back of Snape's head, at the long, straggly hair that fell to his shoulders and the tight-fitting coat that swayed at the bottom every step he made. She blinked hard and tried to register the three books now in her possession.

After much internal questioning, Hermione's curiosity ultimately won out, and she sat down in her chair, taking the borrowed quill in hand, opened the _Advanced Wizard's Guide_, and began taking notes. She had no idea why Severus Snape seemed adamant about showing her these, but she would play along; until she figured out his true motives, whatever they were.

* * *

**A/N #2: The 'banned Dark Arts books' is something that will pop up again later. It's just something I think would have been very typical of the Ministry to do, especially under the highly paranoid Cornelius Fudge. It also reminded me of groups here in the States that had bonfires to burn the _Harry Potter_ books (remember that?) because they thought they were strictly 'all about witchcraft.'**

***sigh* Ignorance is not always bliss...  
**


	8. Peculiarities in Motion

**A/N:_ A lot_ happens in this chapter, so it's worth paying attention. ;) To any State-side readers, Happy Memorial Day!  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Peculiarities in Motion**

Severus paced before the fireplace in his personal quarters. Night had fallen, and the Dark Mark on his left arm hadn't grown sore yet. He had initiated Dumbledore's plan with Hermione Granger, but he could tell that she was highly suspicious, always skeptical of the rationale he presented for what he was doing. He hadn't expected it to be easy, but her lack of confidence in him frustrated the professor, nonetheless.

Though Severus hadn't realized it, he was growing fairly used to the presence of the insufferable know-it-all. Her company three days out of his week was, while not without its aggravations, a welcoming change from his usual bouts of isolation. He hardly knew how to act around people anymore, having grown into such a recluse over the years, and thereby treated Hermione as any other adult, rather than the seventeen-year-old that she was. It didn't seem to matter though. Something in the young lady's demeanor made her seem considerably wiser, even older, than the rest of her peers. And Severus appreciated that, at least; it made the job easier and slightly less of an irritating nuisance.

_She caught on quicker than I would have imagined_, Severus reflected as he continued to pace his office. _If only she and bloody Weasley could get a better handle on what will be expected of them, but especially of her..._

Severus snarled and threw himself down into his chair, flapping his cloak as he stared intensely into the whirling blazes of the hearth, taking comfort in their natural warmth. The ferocity of the look on his face, however, was acute, his building weariness evident to no one but himself.

_Damn Dumbledore. Damn that psychotic maniac. And damn that blasted Potter. When will it ever end, Lily? When will it ever be enough? How much more must I punish myself?_

Severus hung his head in his hands, his hair spilling over them to conceal his visible torment. He had resolved himself long ago to do the right thing—for _her_—even if the end result was less than favorable; even if the entire wizarding world came to despise him more than they already did; even if they branded him a traitor, beyond all forgiveness.

But only in the privacy of his chambers could Severus Snape's insecurities make themselves known. And the truth of it was, he didn't _want_ to be hated, he didn't _want_ to be so locked up inside himself, he didn't _want_ to be so _alone_... But there was no other way, no other foreseeable path. Not for Severus. This was his whole existence and his morbid reality: to be used, neglected, hated, mistreated, and continuously punished for all his past mistakes. Severus had come to accept what he was given long ago, but it didn't make the realities or the acceptance of it any easier to swallow.

In just a short two weeks, Severus had grown immensely grateful for some human interaction—even if the company was less favorable than what he would have preferred—and quickly considered the presence of Hermione a small token of stimulating conversation, even if it _did_ consistently border on the sour subject of Potter. It was an intellectual game of wits, really, and Severus grew more appreciative of it than he would ever allow himself to admit. Unlike her classmates, Hermione could at least provoke an interesting discussion from time to time that, while not on his intellectual level, was far closer than anyone else could come. It made him feel less alone in his mental state and more normal, more human. Even Dumbledore was entirely daft to Severus's way of thinking, and the Slytherin purposely kept hidden whatever he could from the Headmaster, just as he did from everyone else.

Severus growled as an unsettling thought crossed his mind. He was actually starting to _look forward_ to Hermione Granger's detention tomorrow evening, and that not only annoyed the solitary professor, it petrified him to the core. To the dark, secluded Severus, this wasn't normal. And it certainly wasn't in his nature to feel this way. It was rather pathetic, actually.

_Get a hold of yourself, Severus! You don't have peers, or colleagues, or friends, for that matter. You're alone. You always have been, and you always will be. And when Miss Granger's detentions are through, you'll be left to your own devices again. Accept it and move on._

* * *

Hermione never chanced reading the three books Professor Snape had given her in public, nor in anyone's company, not even in the library or the common room when no one else was around. She was absolutely paranoid and rather detested Snape for making them her responsibility. If anyone caught such texts in her possession, and discovered who had given them to her, the entire school would brand her the next Heir of Salazaar Slytherin in a matter of hours.

_Foolish, Hermione! This is mad!_ she berated herself, as she set to reading in the confines of her dormitory with the curtains drawn all around her as an added precaution. _Why do I let my curiosity run my life? This is a stupid, stupid idea. Snape obviously wants something from you. He was a Death Eater, Hermione. And he just gave you three books containing dangerous material on the Dark Arts that would get you expelled in a heartbeat. Hello!_ Hermione cringed openly as she settled against her pillow, deciding to continue where she had left off on the _Advanced Guide_. _You're an idiot, Hermione Granger, and your curiosity is going to come back to bite you in the arse..._

* * *

"Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Severus whipped a few dangling hairs away from his face and peered up at her from his large stack of papers.

Hermione was on the edge of her chair and staring across the divide at him with slight trepidation. There were many things bugging her about these detentions as of late, and if she were to unearth whatever he was up to, she couldn't dawdle any longer. Christmas was only weeks away.

"I still don't understand..."

Severus gave a frustrated growl. "Understand _what_ exactly?"

"Well, the books you gave me..."

Severus's eyebrows narrowed. "We've already discussed this, Granger—"

"Yes, I know, sir," she blurted out, "but how is it that you've had these books on hand at Hogwarts all this time considering the, erm, content?"

Severus paused, unmoved, before answering in a matter-of-fact tone, "I possess many undesirable books. Wipe that look off your face, you foolish girl. And don't pretend to be so surprised, for that matter. You don't fool me. I'm sure you and your little friends have made many assumptions over the years about me, haven't you?" Hermione went red in the face and didn't answer. "For the record, Dumbledore knows what small collection of undesirable books I carry here, Granger; there aren't many. You're not going to be expelled for a bit of intellectual curiosity, which I know you are struggling with right now, so you can quit acting so suspicious."

A flicker of concern passed over Hermione's fair face. "Do I give that impression?" she whispered, to which Severus's colorless orbs actually lightened.

"You Gryffindors wear every feeling—every fleeting emotion—all over your ruddy faces. Your sentiments at any given moment might as well be plastered across your foreheads. It's not hard to decipher, Granger. Subtly is _not_ one of your specialties."

Hermione darted her eyes, but a small, wry smile broke out, her cheeks glowing a rosier hue than normal. "Sorry, sir." She brought her gaze tentatively back to him. "I don't mean to be rude."

"Spare me your apology. It makes no difference to me either way."

Severus's unemotional remark thrust Hermione back to her senses, and she quickly reverted to her reading assignment, allowing him to return to his own work. After a while, Hermione chanced another question. It was always a gamble trying to talk to the professor, but Hermione was becoming more attuned to his silences. The outcome of whatever spewed from that shrewd mouth, however, was never really a known factor, and always an emotional risk.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" he mumbled, though not seemly irritated by the interruption.

"Will you be teaching us any of the nonverbals in this book?" She held up the _Curses and Hexes_ text for him to see.

"I'm not permitted to teach much of anything in that book."

"I see. Could you..." she hesitated and bit her lip. She couldn't believe she was about to make this request. "Could you teach me about all the nonverbals we won't be learning? The - The darker curses in here, I mean?"

_Dumbledore will be pleased with this_, Severus considered with a compounded sneer. He met Hermione's anxious stare with one arched eyebrow. "If you'd like."

Hermione gawked, taken aback. "_Really?_"

"Yes, of course. Why not?"

"Oh, um, nothing." After another hesitation, she piped up, "You mean, I won't get in trouble for it? For learning dark magic?"

Severus returned to grading and scratched at the parchment furiously. "Not as long as it's in the classroom setting and for academic purposes, no."

_And because this was Dumbledore's shit-faced idea and I have no bloody choice in the matter._

Hermione swallowed, not entirely convinced, but didn't push any further. She still couldn't quite believe she had asked the nasty, foul greasy git to teach her dark magic, and that such an activity would actually be permitted. Surely, she _must_ be losing her mind...

"Another question, Granger?" Severus drawled, never diverting his focus from his grading.

The words hadn't even escaped Hermione's mouth yet, but somehow the brilliant wizard already discerned that she wasn't finished, which made her blush again. "Professor, I've been thinking about some of the dark spells mentioned in these books. And I'm wondering..."

"Go on."

"Well, I'm rather shocked that we haven't been taught any of these. We know about the Unforgivable Curses because they're the most lethal, but there are many, many incantations in these books that sound just as awful to me. Gouging flesh, suffocation spells, disembowelment, mind attacks... I - I'm shocked. Why wouldn't we be permitted to know about these and how to defend ourselves, especially if we're at least permitted to know about Unforgivables and how they're cast?"

"Because the Ministry forbids it."

"I gathered that much," Hermione shot back testily, at which Severus finally cast his eyes upon her.

"The Board of Governors and the Ministry don't allow it for their own impractical reasons. They're worried that students will become persuaded to practice them on each other or on their instructors. They're also paranoid that students will be heavily influenced by the Dark Arts if they are permitted to learn more in depth about particular curses. No one wants that. If a student utilized any of the spells in those books, they'd be punished severely, of course. They'd be expelled, for sure, but their severity is not as acute as that of an Unforgivable, which would land a student in Azkaban without question.

"The wizarding world sees dark spells the same way they view the Dark Arts in general: with fear and trepidation and a consensus that, rather than being more thoroughly understood so that it can be combatted properly, it should simply be barricaded off, and then the problems will simply die away."

"I see..."

"You are not convinced?"

Hermione's eyelashes fluttered. "No, it's not that, Professor. I just think that, considering what lies ahead for Harry and the rest of us, it would be more imperative than ever to, as you once told us, 'know what we're up against.'"

An unexpected glimpse of a smile trailed across Severus's lips. "So you_ have_, as it turns out, been listening, albeit only a fraction, Granger."

Hermione returned his smile willingly, her face brightening and filling the room like much needed candlelight. "Of course. You're surprised?"

"Exceptionally."

"I'm not as scatterbrained as you might think."

"I never implied that you were."

"Well, all the same..."

To Hermione, Severus's expression looked remarkably softer than before, and she found it a welcoming change from the usual cold scowl he wore. "Perhaps I can teach you a thing or two after all," he purred, transferring his gaze from her back to his work.

Hermione couldn't help but broaden her smile. Was this actual progress?

_Don't get too excited, Hermione. The man's moody and entirely unpredictable._

After a long interlude of silence in which she barely read any more of her textbook, Hermione chanced a peek at the professor again and was perturbed with what she saw. Severus wasn't working anymore. He was staring off somewhere in front of him, frozen and unblinking. His skin was ghostly and startlingly haggard, even more so than before, and the dark circles under his eyes had grown additionally more pronounced. The elegant hand that held the feathered quill had gone limp, along with the rest of his seated frame. And those eyes, hard as stone, were glazed over, deep in thought. _Too deep in thought_.

"Professor?" she chanced, her voice rising slightly in alarm.

Severus didn't budge or show any indication of hearing her. Hermione tried addressing him several more times, but he wouldn't reply or so much as blink in her direction. Something, she determined fast, was terribly wrong.

Hermione jumped to her feet and rushed over to him, still a little reluctant to get too close. There was no telling how the powerful man might react if she caught him off his guard. His quick reflexes were more than enough to put her on her guard.

"Professor Snape?" she whispered, waiting for a time before reaching out to carefully touch his shoulder. The fabric was stiff, the warmth of his flesh penetrating through the cloth. "_Sir?_ Are you all right?" Still receiving no answer, Hermione started to shake him rather violently. "_Professor?_ Professor Snape? Sir? _Please, answer me! Snape!_"

Suddenly, to her relief, Severus's head jerked, and his dark eyes came back into focus, his long lashes fluttering as he soaked in his surroundings. She let out the breath she had been holding but unconsciously maintained her grip on his shoulder.

Severus glanced up at her after a moment and was startled by how close she was to him. More than that, she was touching him. Severus Snape was never touched, and his response rattled his concerned student. He jumped back like a skittish animal and recoiled from her in his chair, his eyes widened, almost in fear.

"_Sir?_" she implored nervously, her hand hanging in the air, stretched out to him. "You - You weren't answering me. You were just staring off somewhere, not blinking. You looked like you were in some sort of trance. Are you all right?"

"Miss Granger—"

"Are you all right?" Hermione repeated more emphatically. She tried to ignore his bizarre reaction to her touch, more concerned with how tired and weak he appeared. "You don't look well."

"_I'm fine!_" he sniped, his voice unnaturally thin; it didn't escape Hermione's notice. She frowned and finally lowered her arm.

"No, you're not. Do you want me to fetch Madam Pomfrey?"

"Absolutely not." Severus cleared his throat and adjusted his cloak, reverting his eyes from her.

_Goddamn it. Not again._

"Well, do you need something? Can I get you anything?"

"No, Granger, I'm perfectly capable of doing things myself."

"But—"

"Get away from my desk." He began hastily sorting through his papers, ignoring her.

"All right..."

Severus ran his fingers through his hair and attempted to collect himself, but Hermione wasn't sure why he was bothering. Whatever was wrong, she had witnessed it. Not willing to risk getting herself into more trouble, however, Hermione reluctantly backed away and was about to return to her desk when Severus's fierce rumble stopped her in her tracks.

"You are dismissed, Granger. Get out of here."

"What? I am? Are - Are you sure?"

"_Get. Out._"

This time, Hermione didn't hesitate. She gathered up her things and sped to the door, happy to be rid of the wizard's company now. Her moral conscience, however, forced her to stop when she reached the door and risk one last glimpse to make sure the man was all right before she disappeared.

Severus's lean body was hunched over his desk, his pale fingers covering his eyes, seemingly unaware that she was still there. Knowing there would be hell to pay if she stayed another moment, Hermione bit her lip and left the bitter Potions Master to himself, though not without difficulty, and to her own disbelief, with concern.

* * *

"'Mione?"

"Yeah?"

"How - How's Snape treating you?"

Hermione lowered her book and peered up at Ron suspiciously. "Well enough. It's Snape. Why?"

"Well, you've been acting rather strange lately..."

"Come again?"

"You're acting odd."

"Could you be more specific, Ron? You and I haven't exactly been in each other's company much, so I'm not sure how you could make that observation anyhow."

Ron's cheeks flushed and he slumped into a chair across from her in the library, between one of the stacks. He leaned forward and crossed his arms, which Hermione concluded must be his attempt at intimidating her. It was a laughable effort. He certainly couldn't strike fear in her the way Professor Snape could, particularly if the professor himself was going to be their topic of conversation.

"You don't seem to dislike these detentions anymore. Harry thought as much, too. You almost seem to -_ enjoy_ - them..."

"_Huh?_" The shock on Hermione's face made Ron rear back.

"You aren't enjoying them then?"

"No, of course not! Why would I like to waste an entirely good Saturday spending the day with _Snape?_ What on earth gave you or Harry _that_ impression? Just because I'm not complaining about him all the time, is that it?"

Ron diverted his eyes and blushed, feeling stupid. "Erm, well, yeah, I suppose that's it."

"Oh, good grief, Ron! What the hell does it even matter whether I complain about the man or not? Frankly, I'm exhausted with it. And anyway, he's actually not as terrible one-on-one. He's tolerable, at the very least."

Ron's face morphed into shock. "What kind of detentions are you having then? He's been a complete, utter arse to _me!_ And he's always vile to Harry and every other Gryffindor who serves detention with him!"

"Are we _really_ having this conversation?" Hermione could sense the temper within her rising. She slammed her book shut much louder than she meant to, and the sound echoed across the stacks. "What do _you_ care about the situation I'm in anyhow, Ron Weasley?"

"Don't go there, 'Mione!" Hermione shot to her feet, and Ron did likewise. "I thought we were still friends."

"Really? Well, you have a pretty poor way of showing it!"

"Oh, come off it! You're just jealous!"

"_What?_"

"Of Lavender and I! It's obvious! _You're_ the one who stopped talking to _me_, remember?"

"Well, you haven't exactly been all that friendly to me lately, have you?"

"That's a crock of shit!"

"As are _you!_" she exclaimed, not realizing that several students were now peeking round the stacks to check out their heated altercation.

"Why are you taking McLaggen to Slughorn's Christmas party?"

The question caught Hermione off guard, but a wicked smile formed at the corners of her lips. The anger in Ron's question was obvious. He was jealous.

"What's it to _you_ who I go with, Ron?"

"Nothing! Except that he's a right dirty prat! You could do better, you know."

"As could you," she mumbled, before she could stop herself.

Ron's eyes narrowed in anger. "What, 'Mione?"

"Nothing. I have to go."

"No, you don't! You're just looking for an excuse to get away from me."

"I am not!"

"You're acting childish!"

"_You're_ one to talk!"

Ron gave a furious swipe of his hand. "Oh, go on! Ignore me; gripe about me behind my back; be a stuck up, prissy little wench! That's what you are, you know that? _It's what you've always been!_ No one's ever been good enough or smart enough for you! You self-righteous bitch!"

Hermione stumbled back against the book stack behind her as if she had been struck. Tears were stinging her eyes as she stared at Ron anew, shocked. She hoped to find a reminder of the friend she knew and loved, but he was staring her down with a look of total revulsion, a sight she had only seen once before, and it made her sick to her stomach. She suddenly felt the urge to sink into the floor and disappear.

"_Mr. Weasley!_" came a dark growl they both recognized.

Ron and Hermione whipped their heads towards the end of the aisle to find the ominous figure of Professor Snape eying them both up and down with a formidable intensity. His sneer of contempt, however, seemed entirely reserved for Ron, who gulped nervously at the force he was now met with.

Severus advanced on Ron with remarkable speed and grabbed him forcefully by the arm. The young man startled and tried to step back but ran right into his chair, almost knocking himself over. Hermione could do nothing but watch in shock at the dangerous, rather frightening expression that manifested on Snape's face.

"I am content to wash your mouth out with my bare fists!" he whispered, too low for anyone other than Hermione to overhear.

"S - Sir?" Ron staggered, his lips quivering.

"That is _no way_ to address a lady, you barbaric numbskull! Surely, your mother would have taught you better than that." He tightened his grip around Ron's arm, who was surprised by the sheer physical force of Snape's grasp. He reacted by wincing in pain. "If I ever hear you speak to Miss Granger or any other young woman in that manner again, I will break far more than just your nose. Do you understand? Make no mistake, Weasley, _I will break you_, and you will lament the day you ever chose to speak with such a vulgar tongue. I will make sure of it. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"But - But she—"

"_Be quiet!_" he snapped, and Hermione jolted as Snape suddenly grabbed Ron by a fist full of his robes and thrust him hard in the opposite direction.

Ron went flying across the aisle and tumbled to the ground several feet away. After the initial shock wore off, he whipped his body around, staring up at Snape with his blue eyes gaping in shock.

"Another detention, Weasley," Severus hissed, his tone more than threatening. "Tonight. Seven o'clock. My office. If you are so much as a second late, I will set every one of those red hairs of yours ablaze!"

Ron swallowed again, stumbled to his feet, and ran off, leaving Hermione planted where she stood, frozen. She stared at Snape, who was still glaring at the spot where Ron had disappeared, his breathing strained and his black eyes surging with a rage she had never seen before.

Hermione startled when she suddenly noticed the wand gripped in the professor's hand. She hadn't realized until then that poor Ron had no idea just how close he had come to receiving an actual hex or two from the powerful wizard. The very notion made her skin crawl in terror.

Then those fuming irises locked on Hermione, and she sucked in a breath. His eyes softened a little when they met hers, and, for an intense, drawn out pause, the two only stared at one another, the awkwardness of the situation encasing them in its hold. Then, as if he had never been there, Snape broke eye contact and drifted out of sight, his robes billowing behind him as he hurried away from her as quickly as possible.

Oxygen slowly returned to Hermione's lungs as she gawked at the spot where the professor had vanished. _What the hell just happened?_

* * *

_Severus, you insolent fool!_ he berated himself with a snarl as he returned to his empty classroom, slamming the door as he entered. _Why did you even interfere? Insufferable Gryffindors! Always opening their goddamn mouths without thinking! You should've expected nothing less!_

Severus rushed to his desk to sit down, taking his quill in hand. But then, with all the built up frustrations surging within that he had almost unleashed upon Ron, Severus threw his quill across the room in one powerful swoop. Why did he care what Weasley called Granger? They both meant nothing to him. _Nothing!_

Once Severus caught his breath and calmed down a notch, he collapsed into his chair and stared off into the engulfing shadows of his classroom. He had heard those nasty words unleashed during his childhood too many times to count. It shouldn't have affected him the way it had today, and yet, hearing those vulgar absurdities was just as painful now as it had once been. Catching not only Weasley's remark but that familiar, deeply wounded pain on Hermione's face was more than enough to unleash his rage.

Severus's actions, however, were just as befuddling to him as, he presumed, they probably were to Hermione at the moment. _You have more important things to think about Severus. Enough! Granger can fight her own battles. And Weasley's utterly hopeless, a waste of a male specimen, so forget about them both!_

Severus let out a prolonged sigh and brought a hand to his temple. The sooner Hermione Granger's detentions were over, the better. But there was still so much for her to learn, and an equal amount riding on his efforts. Severus squeezed his eyes shut against the throbbing pangs in his head.

_Time to move things along, Severus. This needs to be over and done with. Quickly._

* * *

As Hermione headed for detention the following Wednesday evening, visions of that event in the library were heavily engraved in her mind. Ron's terrible name calling, the way he looked at her with such painful disgust, Professor Snape coming to her defense; or was that misconstrued? Those unsettling eyes were on the verge of shredding Ron to pieces, and all seemingly because of the foul name he had called _her_.

Why had the professor lashed out on her behalf? Maybe that wasn't really the case; after all, nothing the complicated wizard did made much sense or seemed to be at the benefit of others anyhow. But didn't he seem to be showing _some_ indication of caring?

Didn't he hear students swearing and calling each other names all the time? Not that it made it right. _Should I confront him about it? Will he confront me?_

Hermione stepped into the classroom with a deep breath, prepared for the onslaught of more awkwardness for the next several hours. But to her surprise, Snape was waiting for her, standing in the center of the room with his hands behind his back. He showed no indication of feeling uneasy, nor did he address her outright; he simply stared unreservedly in his typical, intimidating fashion.

Hermione scanned the room, perplexed. All the desks had been moved aside, so there was no place for her to sit. She had brought the textbooks Snape had given her, prepared to ask him more questions that had been racking her brain, but he seemed to read her thoughts as soon as they came.

"No reading tonight, Granger. Put your belongings aside with the exception of your wand, if you please." He nodded to the far corner of the room but kept his intense irises fixed on her. After she did as instructed, Hermione started to proceed towards him when he abruptly threw up a hand. "That's close enough."

"Sir, what—"

"You wanted to learn how to defend yourself from the darker magic you've been reading about. It is high time I gave you a taste of what they're like. You need helpful pointers that will allow you to successfully block and defend yourself faster, cleaner, and with far less room for error.

"As I'm sure you're well aware, Granger, I am not permitted to practice Dark Arts on any student, but tonight will be an opportune exception..."

* * *

**A/N #2: Oh, Won-Won. *sigh* And that trance Severus was in? You'll see that again.**


	9. The Unspoken Look

**A/N: Surprise! An early update! And now I feel a little guilty about how much you're all anticipating this duel session. *ruefully lowers eyes* Maybe other parts in this chapter will make up for it? ...Maybe?  
**

**You'll start to learn more about Severus's knowledge (or lack thereof) about 'those bloody Horcruxes' in this and future chapters to come.  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 9: The Unspoken Look**

Hermione immediately panicked at Snape's unnerving remark but was quickly reassured, albeit only a little, by what followed. For the next two hours, Snape spent a considerable amount of time explaining the various Dark Arts curses, hexes, and jinxes Hermione had familiarized herself with, and how to block them accordingly. He additionally explained how they were cast, but would not permit her to demonstrate with her wand, which she was secretly very relieved about. Snape's instruction didn't mean that he didn't take undisguised pleasure in making a proper fool out of her once they started dueling, however.

Hermione was unable to block countless times and found the spells far more difficult to combat than she had ever imagined. The pain she received was equally unbearable. She was attacked mentally and physically on so many levels that she quickly lost count. The whole lesson was beyond infuriating, as illustrated by her flustered countenance. Having fallen over more than enough times now, Hermione expected to have a handful of bruises tomorrow and was feeling the soreness of each blow.

"_Concentrate_, Granger!" Snape chided, growing more and more agitated despite the slow progress she was making. "Where is your head?"

"Attached to my neck," she grumbled under her breath. The flicker of anger that followed in Snape's eyes made her instantly regret her snide remark.

Without warning, just as he had done several times before, Snape unleashed a dozen dark nonverbals her way. Only this time they were even more powerful than before, fully illustrating the wizard's capabilities and sheer might, as if the Gryffindor weren't already aware of the fact.

Hermione cried out after she narrowly missed several of the many blasts that shot at her with tremendous force. When his demonstration was through, Hermione was on her back again, her tussled, chestnut curls spread out on the floor in disarray. She shot up and stared him down from across the room.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed, no longer caring whom she was addressing.

Snape's smirk of triumph only heightened her fury. "Instructing," he replied dryly, as she got to her feet.

"Seems like you're out for more than just proving a point, sir!"

"Don't be overdramatic."

"_I'm_ the one being bruised and battered here! I think I've earned the right!"

"If you_ listened_ to what I've been telling you, then you wouldn't be."

Hermione growled and scowled at Snape in a manner that matched his own. Try as he might not to, he secretly found her rage quite amusing. She was insensibly vocal and overly emotional most of the time, both of which he couldn't help but find humorous. It was all rather enticing, actually.

"I'm glad I seem to amuse you!" she cried, swiping dust off her knees.

Snape's raven eyes glistened. "It's hard not to. Stop making excuses. You have no one to blame but yourself."

"I _have_ been listening to you! And I'm not making excuses! You're just out to make a fool out of me and abuse me as you see fit!"

"I'm not at all out to abuse you." Snape gave an emphatic roll of his eyes. "Now stop with your incessant whining. It's unbecoming and beneath someone of your age."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but then shut it, burning hot in the face. Snape returned to his dueling stance and Hermione swiftly did likewise. This time, she performed marginally better, but still ended up on her back.

After several more rounds, her energy with the lesson was depleting fast. Panting after another episode of being thrown to the floor, she breathed heavily, "Sir, may I have some water? Could we at least take a quick break if you intend to do this to me all evening?"

Snape cocked his head to one side, his look undistinguishable. "Very well, Granger. Five minutes."

With an elegant wave of his wrist, a glass of water glided towards her from his desk, which she snatched up and downed in one gulp. Not even bothering to take a seat in one of the chairs, she remained slumped on the floor and tried to catch her breath.

_Why the hell did you ask for this, Hermione?_

"Professor?" she inquired, after oxygen finally infiltrated her lungs again.

"What is it now?"

Snape was behind his desk and inspecting an owl with a troubling sort of frown, but Hermione pressed him anyway. "I spotted a term in your _Curses and Hexes_ book last night that I didn't recognize." She paused, waiting for him to perhaps give her his attention; he didn't, so she plunged ahead. "What's a Horcrux?"

Snape's attention stirred, and his eyes flickered unnaturally in her direction. He also turned his head slightly. "What did you say, Granger?"

"Um, what's a Horcrux? I've never heard of it and the book didn't actually describe it any detail, just used it in reference to something else about magical objects. I tried looking it up in the Restricted Section and couldn't find anything, which is strange."

There was a curiously long pause before Snape finally addressed her question, speaking in a low, steady voice. "A Horcrux is a magical object used to conceal a fragment of a person's soul. Should the wizard's body be attacked or destroyed, he could live on through the objects in which he has encased himself. The very practice of it is not only against magical law but against nature, which is why you haven't heard of it before, Granger. It is the darkest sort of magic, the worse kind."

The thought of such a practice was both disgusting and horrifying to Hermione, and she scrunched up her nose in response. "How exactly could a person do that?"

"As I said, by ripping the soul."

"Yes, but _how?_"

"I think you already have an indication, Granger," Snape responded testily. "You're a clever girl."

His reply was so flat and final that Hermione felt somewhat nauseous. As she sat on the floor and stewed over this new information, an awareness slowly crept across her visage, and she drew up onto her battered knees and eyed Snape with caution. "Sir, could Voldemort have achieved this? Could he have ripped his soul and stored it away so that he wouldn't die?"

Snape was still and unyielding, but once he responded, he sounded aggravated. "What makes you think he'd have done such a thing?"

"Now that you've explained it to me," Hermione murmured breathlessly, ignoring his annoyance and growing excited, "it would make sense. We've wondered how he managed to survive the last war when his body was destroyed after attacking Harry. There have been a lot of theories, of course, but, frankly, none of them have ever seemed very logical to me. Unicorn blood was a given, but still...

"He showed up again in our first year; well, not in his own form, but attached to Quirrell. Couldn't _he_ have been a Horcrux? And then in the Chamber of Secrets: Tom Riddle's diary... That was destroyed in our second year and Harry told me when he destroyed it, it obliterated the memory of Riddle with it. That diary... It - It could very well have been a Horcrux! It makes perfect sense!"

"Miss Granger." Snape strode over to her, but Hermione noted something different about him. His voice was hushed and very controlled. There was also a strange alteration in his typically frigid expression that told her something was afoot. "These are curious assumptions you're making, but—"

"You've known." Hermione interrupted, aghast, peering up at him in horror. She watched Snape's pupils constrict and his jaw twist, but he said nothing. "You - You've known how Voldemort sought to achieve immortality, haven't you? And you've said _nothing!_ How - How could you?"

"Miss Granger—"

"Have you even considered telling Dumbledore, or Harry, for that matter? How could you keep such a secret? Why would you hide this?"

"Granger," Severus snarled, his frustration at being interrupted mounting, but Hermione ignored him and leaped to her feet.

"NO! Why on earth would you not tell me? Why did you make me run around in circles trying to figure this out on my own? Is this some kind of sick game for your amusement?"

"Granger, if you interrupt me again, I will be forced to silence you the hard way! _Be quiet!_"

Hermione reluctantly did as Snape asked, but her caramel irises were antsy and enlarged at her discovery. Unbeknownst to her, Snape's mind was also racing, struggling with how to proceed. He had been prepared for the bright, young witch to unearth this information, but even Dumbledore had his reservations about her knowing just yet; Harry, for one, hadn't a clue, much to Snape's own disapleasure. And as much as Snape was trusted by the Dark Lord, the fiend still hadn't disclosed much about his greatest secret, and purposely kept it from everyone, including Snape. How to move forward, and how much to disclose just yet, was a matter Snape suddenly felt ill-equipped for.

"First off," he began, "I haven't kept any such secrets about the Dark Lord's quest for immortality, so get that ridiculous assumption out of your head. Secondly, I am not entirely at leisure to discuss the subject of Horcruxes as it is, but I have been hoping you would draw conclusions on your own from the books I've provided, Granger. And thus, you have."

_Damn you, Dumbledore. This is ridiculous._

"Dumbledore and I have since come closer over the years to finding answers on the Horcruxes, but I won't elaborate on the details of that, as it is none of your business, nor Potter's, unless the Headmaster chooses to make it so.

"Furthermore, you are not to breathe a word about this to _anyone_, and that includes Weasley." Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Snape silenced her with a threatening growl. "We don't need this kind of gossip and hearsay spreading around the school at such a dangerous time as now. This is dark magic, the worst of its kind, and it needn't be spread around so carelessly. Times are hard enough for most, and the last thing we need is chaos and panic.

"Dumbledore is working with Potter to uncover what we think might be the confirmation we've been searching for, and that answer may lie with Professor Slughorn. Until we discover the truth, however, you aren't to elaborate on this or utter a single word to anyone, do you understand? _Not even Potter._ That is up to Dumbledore to disclose, not you. If you so much as hint at the word Horcrux, Granger, I can promise you that I will know, and the consequence will be _severe_."

Hermione's throat constricted, her brain nothing but mush as she tried to make sense of what was happening. She felt as if she had entered a whirlpool with no lifeline, and had no idea how to take all of this.

Sensing the room starting to spin and bringing her off balance, Hermione closed her eyes to compose herself. Once she felt that she had some control over her wits again, she opened her eyes and stared long and hard at the elusive man in front of her, a burning question still pressing on her mind.

"Then why did you want_ me_ to uncover this information, Professor? This makes absolutely no sense. You're using me for something... What is it you want?"

With a foreboding sneer, Snape took a step closer, and Hermione felt temporarily paralyzed as his unsettling glare bore into her, overpowering her ability to move or do much of anything except stare back. She swallowed hard and waited with bated breath. When Snape spoke to her, it was with a deep, authoritative command that she knew she had no choice but to obey.

"Your cooperation, Granger. _No exceptions_."

* * *

Hermione felt cold and lifeless for the next several days, and, for the first time, was secretly grateful that much of Harry's time was being taken up by Quidditch practice. That meant Ginny was unavailable too, though, leaving her with hardly anyone to converse with. Talking to Ron was simply out of the question. Not that she could disclose anything to him anyhow.

_How the hell am I supposed to keep this from my best friend?_ She groaned and brought her knees up to her chest on her bed, wrapping her arms around herself for what little comfort it provided.

Hermione had finished her homework hours ago and had tried her best to read more from Professor's Snape collection, all the while never able to completely get her mind off the subject. She had even considered going straight to Dumbledore about what the Slytherin had shared, but his threat stirred an aching warning in her heart, and thus, she resigned herself not to do a thing. For now.

Instead, she ran her theories through her analytical mind over and over Friday night whilst locked away in her dormitory. _Snape and Dumbledore think Horcruxes are how Voldemort has survived this long. So, then, how many times did he split his soul? What objects would he have hidden his soul in, aside from Quirrell and the diary? Merlin... What if there are a dozen objects? A hundred even? How would anyone find them all? Where would they even begin? Damn it, why can't I tell Harry? He needs to know! This is important!_

Hermione smacked her face with her pillow and threw it angrily across the room, releasing some of her built up frustrations. Crookshanks, sleeping at the corner of her bed, perked his ears up and hissed, infuriated with the disruption of his beauty sleep, but Hermione ignored him.

"Ugh, this is so aggravating!" she cried aloud, wringing her hands in the air. "Damn me to hell for getting myself several weeks' worth detention! I knew my curiosity would come back to haunt me! Damn that awful, deceitful man!"

Hermione sighed and dragged herself across the room to gather up her pillow, before collapsing back onto her bed in a heap. She desperately wanted to sleep, but she knew she wouldn't.

Her attention attached itself to a moving picture on her nightstand. She, Harry, and Ron beamed back at her; it had been taken just last year at the start of term, and it was a happy photograph she was very fond of. It was an endearing image of the three of them together, the best and closest of friends.

Staring at the goofy redhead with the attractive freckles only made Hermione feel worse than ever. Her eyes swelled with tears and she turned away, burying her face in her pillow to sob noiselessly.

"Ron," she sniveled, "how could you be so hurtful? How could you do this?"

Then a fleeting image of the library incident came back to her in waves, and she ceased crying, because the reflections from that moment weren't of Ron and his foul mouth. They were of Severus Snape, that dark, brooding, ever more intriguing figure who still held such a power over her, just as he had six years ago. But it was more than that…

There were many attributes about him that were only now coming to light for her, characteristics she hadn't really paid attention to until now. His pale skin, not at all grotesque, was flawless and smooth, seemingly delicate like porcelain. Then there was the protruding nose that was the prominent feature of his strong face and the subject of so much ridicule; but Hermione couldn't view it much in that light anymore. It wasn't really ugly, per say. It was dignified, a reflection of his fierce personality and strength. There were those long, raven tresses of his too: somewhat limp and at times greasy in appearance, and yet, lately, strangely soft and luscious looking. Were the strands, in fact, soft to the touch? Finally, there were those ebony-colored eyes of his, so distinguishable and curious, not to mention mystical, and his surprisingly long eyelashes, thick and enviously beautiful if one got close enough to soak them in in detail…

Hermione shuddered, but the chill that ran down her spine had nothing to do with the chilly temperature of her dormitory. She wasn't quite sure what it was, actually, but she quickly concluded that she never wanted to think of Professor Snape in _that_ manner ever again.

_You really _are_ losing your mind, Hermione..._

* * *

"She knows then?"

"Yes, Albus."

"Well, I must say, I'm surprised at how quickly Miss Granger caught on."

"I've been suggesting this to you for years, Albus. Miss Granger has drawn the same conclusions."

"How much did you tell her?"

"I didn't confirm anything about the diary or Quirrell, but she's smart, Albus. She knows."

"I see. Well, we must hope her tongue doesn't slip in the future."

"Albus," Severus urged emphatically, "Potter should know. He should have known a long time ago!"

"Don't be too hasty, Severus."

Severus stopped pacing before Dumbledore's desk and eyed him apprehensively. "Why ever not? I thought you were planning on it. I've taken the liberty of explaining a few details to Granger. Isn't it time that Potter be warned?"

"No, not yet." Dumbledore shook his head decidedly. "Not until it's confirmed by Horace's memory. I do hope by the time of his Christmas party, Harry will have something. I'm assuming you told Miss Granger not to tell Harry?"

"Of course," Severus snarled unhappily. "Not that I expect her to keep her word. They're _friends_, you know. You should tell Harry sooner rather than later, Albus."

Dumbledore, however, simply chuckled and disregarded Severus's consideration. "Never mind. He will know soon enough. Any word yet on Draco's latest scheme?"

Severus stiffened, his eyes turning cold. "No. He's avoiding everyone, including me."

"Well, I am awaiting his next move. Katie Bell was very fortunate, Severus. We could have had a real mess on our hands. If it was up to me, and Draco hadn't made such a foolish blunder that may already be costing him his life, I'd have had him expelled."

"He had little choice in the matter, Albus. You know that."

"Perhaps... Keep an eye on him, Severus."

Severus's eyes shimmered furiously amidst the darkness. "I always have, just as I do with every student in my house."

"I don't think they need much protection, Severus." Severus's pupils dilated, and a deep-seated grimace drew across his mouth, but the old wizard didn't seem to care. "We know where the majority of Slytherin's students are headed. Let us not be submissive on that point. I can only hope that when justice is served upon the Dark Lord and his minions that your students will be spared, and perhaps receive better treatment than their predecessors."

"How can you—" Severus abruptly stopped himself and took a calculated breath, his nostrils flaring in anger. "How dare you make such an assumption, Albus."

"I'm sorry?"

"That is all my house has ever been to you, hasn't it? It's exactly how you view every single Slytherin that passes through these castle walls, is it not? You and the rest of the staff! _Exactly as I predicted!_

"Death Eaters: boys and girls with no chance at a brighter future, mean-spirited, with a thirst for blood and power, all hell-bent on undermining others. What utter prejudice!"

"Oh? And on the contrary, you've turned out to be quite the opposite?"

The dangerous provocation in Dumbledore's blue eyes stirred something hot and revolting inside Severus, but he managed to restrain himself, though it took every ounce of his being. "Don't say that to me," he managed through a clenched jaw.

Dumbledore's demeanor immediately softened, as if he were reconsidering his remarks. "I'm sorry, Severus. Let's not talk about this. We're getting off point. There are more important matters at hand. Most important is Miss Granger. You need to delve further, Severus. _Much further._"

"Her detentions will soon be over!"

"Find a way to extend them."

"_What?_" Severus drew back, appalled.

"She needs more time, Severus. You've known that. You didn't really expect to get rid of her by Christmas, did you?"

Severus let out an exasperated growl before turning on his heel to exit the Headmaster's office. The old man was beyond infuriating, using him for whatever means necessary, and all Severus could do was take it yet again. Take it spoon fed like a helpless child and swallow it down; take what little was offered to him in return for his countless selfless services for the benefit of everyone but himself. And no one knew; not a soul...

_Always the same!_ he reflected with bitterness, his mind turning to the redhead he had once adored, now dead and gone. _All my fault... All my doing... It's the least I deserve..._

Severus took his leave, his cursed thoughts following him down the staircase. Just as he reached the bottom step, a heat penetrated his left arm and he winced, stumbling back against the wall. "Damn it!" he griped, clutching his arm to conceal the Dark Mark, though no one could possibly have seen, as it was covered by the fabric of his coat.

The Dark Lord was beckoning, and he would have to answer. Immediately. _Lily... When will I ever have peace? When will it ever be enough? Lily._

Severus Disapparated on the spot, leaving no trace of his whereabouts.

* * *

"Professor, I want you to level with me."

Hermione crossed her arms and stared him down, ready for a fight. Snape, however, showed no indication of bringing himself into a conversation. "I will do no such thing, Granger. In this classroom, and during your detentions with me, you play by _my_ rules."

"Fair enough. I can still ask questions though."

"And I can refuse to answer them." Snape let out a weary sigh and kept his focus on the large book in his lap as he read by candlelight at his desk.

Hermione let out a low grumble. "Is there any legitimate reason that we can't have some natural light in here? It's nine o'clock in the morning, but it feels like nighttime."

Severus peered up at her—his pallid face entirely void and blank—and without tearing his intense gaze from hers, he lifted a hand into the air and one of the shutters opened a crack. Then he returned to his book, giving her no further regard.

"Why must you keep your rooms so dark?"

"Because I like it," he replied dryly.

"Well, I suppose it suits you," she mumbled under her breath. Snape heard, and a trickle of a smile emerged despite his best attempts to conceal it. He didn't, however, look up from his reading material.

"So, what's this all about then?"

"Very vague, Granger. You will have to be more specific."

"You know what I'm talking about!" Hermione moved her hands to her hips, forgetting for the moment that she was talking to her instructor.

"As it so happens, I don't." Snape turned the page of his book. "What is it?"

"Listen, I was completely sidelined by you yesterday. Obviously_ something's_ going on here that involves me, and I have every right to know what it is. I should know what I'm being set up for!"

Snape finally met her eyes again with a slight countenance of intrigue. "Set up?" he repeated, emotionless.

"Teaching me about forbidden Dark Arts magic, giving me access to banned material, Horcruxes, researching obtainable quests for immortality, looking up ingredients to offset Nagini's venom..." She paused. "All right, well, maybe that last bit is irrelevant, but the others are a tad alarming, I'd say!"

"Really? Why is that?"

"_What?_"

"Granger, I've already explained to you _why_. Perhaps I wanted to take advantage of your clever mind to further my own research. Perhaps I am at liberty to do so since you're serving detention with me. Perhaps your combat skills are substantial, but not up to the standards I'd prefer, which is why I thought you might benefit from learning about the kind of magic you will actually encounter once you're out there and not within the comfortable confinements of this school. Perhaps those mindless friends of yours will need all the help and protection they can get, and you will have to provide them with it. Perhaps you are the only one who will be capable of doing so. Merlin knows how Potter has managed to survive this long; it astonishes me daily."

_And the Chosen Brat has no idea that I've been involved in that tedious process. The ungrateful little swine._

"And need I remind you, Granger," Snape continued, "that you were the one who asked for my direction? Who asked to learn more about the Dark Arts? You still have my books in your possession, and we both know you're still heavily engrossed in the material. Your intellectual curiosity would have it no other way, so stop being coy with me. It's tiresome."

Hermione shifted her weight to one side, having not expected the extended answer she received, nor the legitimacy of a lot of what he had said. "That all may be so, but - but you're still up to something."

Snape sighed again, this time with a lesser degree of annoyance, from exhaustion. "Aren't I_ always_ up to something according to you? And spare me the details. They're inaccurate anyhow."

Hermione bit her lip, growing increasingly uneasy. "Not always, sir. And I think I've figured out what you're doing..."

There was a long interlude in which Snape only stared at the now timid young woman in front of his desk. Finally, he slammed his book shut and leaned forward in his chair rather provocatively, folding his hands together on top of his desk. He gave her an incredulous look that twisted her stomach.

"What is the conclusion you've reached, Miss Granger?" he urged, his tone oozing with challenge and resentment.

The additional sarcasm behind his question only made the situation more uncomfortable from Hermione's perspective. She had been mentally prepping herself all morning to confront him, fully aware of the repercussions that might follow. She swallowed and kept her focus on the harsh outlines of the wizard's face before answering in a much quieter, less confident voice then she would have liked, "You're trying to convert me."

There was a faint alteration in Snape's eyes. Their depths seemed to harden, several conflicting emotions trickling from his stare to the rest of his pallid visage. The look that eventually broke the mold was a combination of dangerous anger, hostility, and insult.

"_What, Granger?_" he drawled very cautiously, keeping his voice level and his body bound to his chair.

Hermione felt her confidence waning, but forced herself to repeat her conclusion. "I - I think you're trying to convert me into one of _them_."

"_Them?_" he purred, and his upper lip twitched.

"Yes. You - You know what I'm talking about." She paused and bit her lip harder. "You're trying to turn me into a Death Eater—_like you_." To his surprise, she inched closer, never removing those radiant eyes from his. There was a mixture of fear and trepidation, but also a resolution that disquieted him, which Severus had never seen before in her. "I'm not entirely convinced that you've changed for the better, sir. I think you're still a Death Eater, and I think you just might be undermining us all, including me."

_That was it._ Snape sprung out of his chair and around his desk so quickly and furiously that Hermione barely managed to step away. Her eyes expanded and her hand, unprepared, tried to reach for her wand, but it was too late.

"_How dare you!_" Snape cried, much louder than the register he typically used.

Suddenly, he grabbed her forcefully by the arms and shoved her back against the wall, his stark form towering over her, the shock of his fury mere inches from her face. Hermione's breathing stalled, but Snape's was heavy. She could feel the terrible convulsions of his grasp too, the extent of his rage manifesting all of his body. The unsettling curl of his upper lip and the animal-like snarl that followed sent a shiver down Hermione's back, but there was nothing she could do but endure whatever wrath was about to come crashing down upon her.

"_How dare you!_" Snape repeated, and for the first time that Hermione had ever witnessed, he actually sounded unsteady, not in control. "How dare you make such an accusation about me! Do you even have the slightest comprehension of what you're talking about, you idiot girl? You know _nothing_ about me! Nothing at all about who I am! You and your Gryffindor half-wits are all alike, always drawing stupid, foolish conclusions without any ounce of proof and opening your bloody mouths without any thought to what comes out! If you were in Slytherin, Granger, I'd have sent you packing ages ago! Consider yourself fortunate that you're not in my house! You are not only naïve and ridiculously simpleminded, _you are ignorant, prejudiced, and not nearly as intelligent as I once took you for!_"

Hermione gawked, terrified and frozen, her body pressed up against the trembling professor's without the ability to move or shift an inch. She couldn't fight his clutches, nor did she dare challenge his outburst. All she could do was stare wide-eyed into that hard, pale, intimidating exterior in utter bewilderment.

After a moment of searching his black eyes for a hopeful emotion that wasn't enmity, Hermione found traces of something else she hadn't expected. The anger was unmistakable, but there was also the indication of what she had never, ever expected to find from Professor Snape: _pain_. The glimpse of hurt behind his colorless eyes stirred something horrible inside her, churning her stomach into twisted knots.

"Sir, I..." she stuttered, expecting to be interrupted again, but he seemed just as paralyzed and unable to speak.

In that moment, Hermione questioned everything she had assumed about the miserable, unhappy, rejected man now trembling in front of her. Somewhere along the lines, she had made a wrong turn. She mustered what little composure she still had, and after a stifling pause, whispered very softly, "I'm sorry... I thought..."

Her apology didn't seem to reach him. Instead, Snape's eyes went lifeless again. He threw his hands off of her, his breathing still excited and strained. "Go. Get out of my sight."

Without another word, Snape swished his cloak around and stalked up the stone steps to his office, slamming the door behind him with colossal force. Hermione heard the glass windows vibrate behind the shutters, and she stood rigid for several more minutes, her entire form momentarily disabled.

_You were wrong, Hermione. Dead wrong._

* * *

**A/N #2: Well, _that_ wasn't good.**_  
_

******A rambling about the Horcruxes: The general consensus by many is that Severus didn't know about them and that Dumbledore purposely kept him in the dark. Obviously, he _didn't_ know Harry was one; _that_ we know for sure.  
**

******As such, because it was never explicitly defined in the books just how much Severus did or didn't know, that's where fanfiction can fill in the gaps as it pleases. I'm not out to get anyone to convert to my way of thinking about the Horcruxes or Severus's involvement one way or the other. That's not what I'm after. My only wish, hope, and goal is to spin these debatable themes in such a way that they are believable and make sense to_ this_ particular story. **

******Moving right along...  
**


	10. A Contradiction in Terms

**A/N: Thank you to all of you who have been leaving me your feedback (whether through FFN or other avenues), adding this story to your Favorites, and/or putting the Prequel and/or me on your Alerts. It thrills me to get those notices in my Inbox. And I appreciate every one of you who've done so.  
**

**On a side note, as many of you are probably already aware, there is some serious purging of stories going on on FFN right now. They're mostly M-rated fanfics, but anything can happen in these cases. As such, in the event that any of my stories or my account would be deleted, please check out my Tumblr accounts for updates on where else I will be archiving my work: **

**tumblr [dot] com [slash] severussnapegal **

**tumblr ****[dot] com [slash] **thesnapes  


**Lets hope it doesn't come to that... *fingers crossed*  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 10: A Contradiction in Terms**

"You did _what?_"

"Harry, please!"

"'Mione... That's... Wow!" His lips curled into a wicked grin, but Hermione only felt sickened. She had been racking over what happened for hours, before Harry and Ginny finally made their appearance in the common room after their Quidditch practice.

Snape had left her alone in the classroom when he disappeared into his office and, naturally, never came back out. Hermione had waited around for almost a half hour but when he didn't reappear, she reluctantly dismissed herself. Now that her friends were present, their reactions weren't making her feel any better about the situation. Ginny, at least, didn't look as pleased, but she was undoubtedly surprised.

"You insinuated that Snape's still a Death Eater _to his face?_" Ginny's bright eyes widened, dumbfounded.

"I did. And I shouldn't have."

Harry leaned forward on the sofa. "_Why not?_ We've all been saying it behind the sod's back for years. Everyone knows what he really is, 'Mione. I'm proud of you!"

"Dumbledore trusts him, Harry. There _has_ to be some value in that."

"_Bullocks!_" came Ron's angry growl from somewhere behind them, causing Hermione to startle. He took a seat on the floor in front of the fireplace next to Ginny, staring up at her with what had become a traditional scowl. He and Lavender weren't getting on well anymore, and everyone sensed it was only a matter of time before they called it quits. At the moment, however, Hermione was too preoccupied to give that any thought.

"No one trusts Snape," Ron continued bitterly, "and for good reason. I'm not entirely convinced Dumbledore trusts him either, for that matter. The sorry bastard might as well have the label 'Death Eater' plastered along that ugly, crooked snout of his. He is what he is, 'Mione, and no one in their right mind is going to believe the lies he's feeding you. I hope _you_ don't believe them."

Hermione felt trapped, wedged between her former beliefs, even though they had never been as concrete as Harry's or Ron's, and what she witnessed in Snape's eyes that acquainted her with a very _different_ story, somehow reversing years of misguided conclusions they had all drawn in one terribly sad, unspoken look. Hermione had never felt more confused, disheartened, or guilty, and her uncertainties were visible to everyone.

"'Mione," Ron murmured, sounding quiet affronted and astounded. "You _do_ believe him..."

"I don't know! I mean, yes, maybe I do... A little."

"_Why?_"

It was Harry who pressed her now, and the reflection behind the intense green eyes was apprehensive, with also a twinge of resentment. Hermione understood why, but it didn't lessen how she felt.

"I don't know, Harry, but you weren't there today. You didn't see his face... When Snape reacted, I - I could see it. I think he was genuinely hurt by what I said..."

It was a long time before anyone said anything. Finally, Ginny brushed her red hair off her shoulders, looking far less abrasive than the boys, only troubled. "But Hermione, surely Snape_ has_ to know that these rumors have been flying around about him for years. Why would he act so surprised or, um, hurt that _you_ confronted him about it? I'm sure he's overheard other students making the same accusations before. This can't be the first time. His reaction doesn't make much sense."

"Perhaps... Unless he's just had enough with everyone gossiping about him behind his back, especially if the rumors aren't true. Merlin knows _we've_ talked about him enough to cause an angry reaction like this." Hermione shook her head, her curls brushing her back. She stared down at her intertwined hands, feeling more and more ashamed. "I don't know, you guys, but I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have said any of it. It was wrong."

"No, it wasn't!" Ron retorted, and the frighteningly livid expression that contorted his freckled face was not reminiscent of the person she knew. "I wish _I'd_ said it! I wish I could've seen his reaction, for that matter! I'd have taken pride in seeing the old bat squirm!"

"That's cruel and insensitive, Ron!" she retorted in a hushed, strained whisper. "I don't think he's a Death Eater after all. I don't know what he's up to, but I'm willing to put my prejudices aside after what happened today. I never, ever want to make a wrong assumption about someone like that again, not after the way he looked at me. I think we've _all_ misjudged Snape, and it's high time we stopped insinuating about him. I think we should just leave him alone..."

Hermione had no idea where this resolution was coming from, but she meant every word. Ginny glanced sidelong at Harry, but he was sitting back, his lips pressed tightly together. Ron, however, reacted with dramatic flair and narrowed his eyes.

"Wow, Snape's detentions really _are_ having an effect on you. Did the git sneak something into your pumpkin juice recently?"

"Stop it, Ron! Your poking fun at the matter isn't helping!"

"I'm not trying to poke fun! I'm trying to get you to see how psychotic you sound! So what, you now think Snape's _good?_ After the countless things we've heard and seen, you actually believe the Bat of the Dungeons, who's treated us all like the scum off the bottom of his shoes for six years, is on _our_ side? On the side of the Order? On the side of Dumbledore? _You've gone bloody mad, 'Mione!_"

Hermione felt her eyes tearing up and quickly shot to her feet. "If you had seen the reaction in Snape's eyes—if you'd seen what _I_ saw, Ron—I think you might question a thing or two about him! You, too, Harry! I don't care if my opinion's unpopular; I don't care if you don't believe me, for that matter. I just think we should cut the man a break already! Haven't we been wrong about him enough already? I never insinuated that Snape's good or bad, Ron, and I'm certainly _not_ crazy! You can go to hell!"

With that, Hermione didn't dare wait around and give any of them a chance to rebuff her. She stomped off to her room, leaving her friends dumbfounded and disquieted.

* * *

Hermione didn't sleep much that weekend, or much the following week. D.A.D.A. lessons were more strenuous and demanding than ever, and Snape was making sure to come down hard on all of them, as if his very life depended on it. He was teaching them more obscure nonverbals, but with that progress brought harsher criticism than they had ever received. It brought out the worst in Harry and Ron especially, who were at the point of griping about the Potions Master nonstop. Midway through the week, Hermione had already had enough of their constant whining and resolved to just ignore them for the time being.

As for her detentions, Snape was as aloof and cold to her as ever, and what little effect she seemed to have garnered in getting him to talk more in the past week or so now felt for naught. By the end of her Monday evening session, she was ready to accept her blunder and apologize. She didn't trust Snape much more than before, but that glimpse of pain she had seen in his eyes, because of _her_, wouldn't leave her alone. Maybe she was wrong, but her heart told her that he had been gravely affronted by her accusations, and she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

_Isn't he used to hearsay by now?_ Hermione tried to persuade herself, though rather sadly, before entering the classroom Wednesday night. She had been asking that question for days to no personal satisfaction.

Snape hadn't spoken much to her at all earlier that week and instead put her to work on several potion orders. When she asked questions, he refused to answer, sometimes not acknowledging her at all, as if she were invisible. Hermione concluded that she probably deserved it, but it still made her feel low.

Hermione was prepared to receive the same level of treatment this evening, but she also wanted to apologize, regardless of what little difference it made. The Gryffindor in her could not, and would not, let the matter go until she had done so.

"Good evening, Professor," she greeted tentatively as she entered, but Snape, seated at his desk grading a pile of exams, said nothing.

Hermione sighed and quietly put down her belongings at her spot at the front of the room but refused to sit. She lingered by her desk for a moment, watching the dark wizard silently as he scratched furiously with his red-inked quill. Perhaps it was just the soft glow of the torches lighting the room, but she thought he looked quite tired, as if he hadn't managed much sleep the past few nights either. That made her guilty conscious worse as she hesitantly made her way over to him.

"What is it?" he snapped, after she stood in front of him rather awkwardly for a time.

"I - I wanted to apologize." Her voice was hushed and feeble, but Hermione knew he was listening, even if he was pretending not to. "I was out of line with what I said to you this past weekend. I just didn't know it at the time. I don't think my conclusions were entirely without grounds, you know. You make it quite difficult for people to read you and your intentions, you're not at all friendly, and you can be ruthlessly unkind to the point of abuse when you want to."

_Hermione, what the hell? You're getting off track. He doesn't need to hear this._

"Um, what I'm trying to say is that I confronted you based on what I've perceived from _you_ the last few weeks, and, I suppose, for much longer than that. You were right though. I _don't_ know your history, I _don't_ know your circumstances, and my friends and I should give you a chance. I realize now that I misjudged you. I'm still not entirely sure what's going on here, and I really wish you'd just be straightforward with me, but I know I offended you—_deeply_—and I'm very sorry for that, sir."

A tediously uncomfortable silence followed before Snape finally put down his quill and made eye contact. He stared hard and severely in a manner that made her blood run cold. There was no shred of evidence to her that she was forgiven for her blunder.

"Your detentions will not be concluded by Christmas break," Snape stated at last.

Hermione blinked, her face turning from apprehension to befuddlement in a flash. "What?"

"I won't repeat myself, Granger. Your hearing is not impaired. I cannot, however, account the same conclusion for your mind."

Hermione brought her lips together to keep from spitting out something dreadful that would surely make her situation worse. "How long?" she managed, clenching her teeth.

"Until I see fit to dismiss you."

"Because of what I said?" Now Hermione's anger was building, and she momentarily forgot about her apology.

"Search that careless conscience of yours, Granger, and you'll find your answer."

_Because I opened my bloody mouth!_ her mind screamed. _Because I confronted him! Damn the miserable, mean-spirited louse!_

"You mean to tell me that no one's ever brought these accusations to you before?" she challenged heatedly, ignoring the warning in the back of her mind. "You make it relatively easy to draw such conclusions, you know! It's not _my_ fault you choose to be so secretive, vindictive, and bitter against everything that moves or breathes!"

"You're making it worse for yourself," Snape hissed dangerously. There was a furious glimmer in his irises that warned Hermione to desist, but she wouldn't concede so easily.

"_What?_" she snapped back. "For having an opinion about you? For actually having the nerve to challenge and confront you? For having misgivings about what you're teaching me so secretively and in private, and for which I'm not permitted to tell anyone? For not_ ever_ being forthright or honest, even when I've asked you repeatedly to tell me the truth?"

"Miss Granger—"

"_NO!_ I've had it with your nasty attitude and all this secrecy!"

"Granger," Snape growled louder, but she interrupted him again.

"You have no one to blame but yourself for the world misjudging you, if that _is_ indeed the case! I shouldn't be punished for thinking less of you when _you_ bring these impressions and accusations down upon yourself!"

Snape rose from his chair and gradually hunched over his desk. Hermione, likewise, inclined closer, no longer afraid or leery of the lean, powerful wizard just inches away. "Don't start on me again," he sniped quietly. "You've insulted me for the last time. _Be silent._"

"No! I won't! Not until this is resolved! I won't serve detention with you after Christmas break! I won't do it! I'll go to Dumbledore if I have to!"

Snape's sneer shifted into a most wicked smirk, and his eyes themselves danced with provocation. "Go ahead," he prodded. "Be my guest. After all, it was _his_ idea that I not let you go..."

_Bad idea, Severus. Desist. Now._

Hermione stepped back as if she had received a blow to the face. "_What?_"

_Damn it. Can't go back now._

"Surprised, Granger? Well, go on then! Run to Dumbledore and see if the Headmaster takes pity on you like the emotionally weak Gryffindor that you're behaving like. Or you can stay and serve your detentions and perhaps get something _useful_ out of my instructions, though I'm starting to think you're a failure and beyond my capabilities, just like the rest of your sorry lot."

Hermione wanted to move, but her brain had come to a screeching halt. She opened her mouth and tried to retort, but words escaped her mental grasp.

"Anything else?" Snape shot her a glare that heeded her not to interrupt him again. "Which will it be, Granger? Time is of the essence and I have no intention of wasting it on _you_." To her surprise, his eyes unexpectedly softened, the shadows underneath his eyes growing more pronounced against the harshness of the candlelight. What came next nearly electro-shocked her on the spot. "I accept your apology, and I appreciate that you saw fit to do so, but your continuous need to undo me ends here and now." He collapsed into his chair and diverted his attention back to his grading, leaving Hermione mentally stranded in the midst of their argument.

"So you and Dumbledore... You're in this together, whatever this is?"

Snape peered up at her again, only this time with weariness instead of indignation. "I have told you many times. Your repeated effort to search for some hidden undermining secret is one of many disappointments I'm discovering in you."

_Not true, Severus,_ his conscience berated him against his will. _Stop it._

Hermione, however, took Snape at his word and inwardly felt more slighted by his latest comment than she had in the past by any previous brash remarks the man had thrown. She couldn't fathom why, but it hurt her more deeply than he probably knew or cared...

"Let me spell it out for you, Granger." He sighed heavily, before responding in a much calmer tone. "Things are in motion that Dumbledore and I are privy to that you're not; the same for Potter. You know of the Prophecy; you know of the gravity of what lies ahead for him. He can't afford to be distracted or weakened or incapacitated when the Dark Lord finally makes his move. You and Weasley are closest to him, but your fickle friend is proving himself to be a hopeless case. He lacks the much needed capacity to think collectedly in times of trial. His emotions always get the better of him in dire situations, and that is beyond dangerous. I've seen it in the classroom too many times to count, just as has been the case in your own little escapades. He's unreliable, unsteady, and a time bomb waiting to explode.

"_You_, on the other hand, are Potter's confidant, but have proven your ability to use your cool intellect when times are desperate. Dumbledore is not a fool, and neither am I. We know who the brain of this outfit is. You're far more capable a witch than Weasley or Potter will ever amount to, but don't let that go to your head. If there's one person Potter can actually count on in the months to come—who Dumbledore and I believe to be the most reliable, the most skilled, and the most resourceful—it is_ you_, Miss Granger, and you need to be well-prepared and three steps ahead at all times. Do you understand?

"You're capable and clever, but you still need more work. Dumbledore wants me to assist you for as long as it takes, until I believe you're ready and have garnered all the knowledge you need. That is why I'm extending your 'detentions,' Granger, although, even without the unwanted task that's been thrown in my lap, I would willingly slap you with another detention for your unjust, derogatory outburst the other day. _There._ Are you satisfied?"

Snape took a deep breath, reflecting briefly on what he had disclosed. _Not the entire truth either, but it will suffice for now._

After a moment, Hermione's mouth caught up with her mind and she offered Snape a peculiar, rather hushed remark he hadn't expected. "I was right..."

"Pardon?"

"I - I thought... Well, after what happened, I thought that maybe... I suspected that this had something to do with Harry; that perhaps I was being recruited for something. I guess I just didn't think you'd actually..."

When her voice trailed off, leaving her sentence incomplete, Snape's scowl grew more severe. "You didn't think I'd be capable of _helping_ you, of helping anyone, for that matter." The remark was both direct and unforgiving, and the guilty look Hermione projected showcased every reservation she had held without saying a word. Snape wanted to gripe, but he was far too spent to show any more feeling.

"Granger, let me make something clear to you: I didn't ask for this task. I certainly didn't want to work with you individually, but your lack of attention the past several weeks was very troubling to Dumbledore, who puts a great deal of faith in you, though I sometimes question why.

"Then, when you had the foolish audacity to try and hex me, you left me with no choice. I'm assisting you because it was _requested_ of me, so don't get any ridiculous ideas of grandeur implanted into that skull of yours. Make no mistake: I don't want to work with you. McGonagall could have done so easily enough. And frankly, I have enough to do right now; but, nevertheless, it must be done, and so it shall."

_Another fabricated truth_, Severus reflected sourly, trying to bury his real thoughts as quickly as possible.

"I - I'm sorry to trouble you then, Professor."

Snape's vision came back into focus at the melancholy he heard in Hermione's response, and a flash of regret washed over him, before the unemotional exterior resurfaced. He wasn't sure if Hermione had caught the unspoken resentment, but he was now perplexed and more exhausted than ever. Instead of apologizing, something he was inexperienced with and not at all good at, he ran his long fingers through his hair uncomfortably.

"It's fine. Just don't test me like that again. It's not appreciated, and your presumptions about me are incorrect. You don't know me."

Hermione gazed at the floor, no longer able to look at him. "You're right... I don't."

Snape tried his best to ignore the obvious pain mangled with guilt on Hermione's tortured face and cleared his throat. "You can resume your readings, or if you have more pressing homework to do, I will leave you this sole opportunity tonight to do so."

Hermione peered up at him solemnly at first, but then her eyes grew gentler. "No, I'll read, thank you, sir."

She walked back over to her spot and resumed sifting through the pages of one of his Dark Arts books and did not bother Snape again for the rest of the night. For the first time in his teaching career, and in a befuddling moment that threatened to visibly shatter Snape's reserved nature, he veritably detested that the young know-it-all never saw fit to badger or disrupt him with further questions.

* * *

Severus moaned into his pillow and abruptly jerked his head. His breathing was powerful as he mumbled something inaudible into the lonely darkness of his personal quarters. His body convulsed beneath the covers, his skin dripping with sweat and soaking the soft linen sheets, far too deep into his nightmares to awaken.

After several more minutes, however, Severus let out an alarming cry—one that would spook anyone nearby if his muffling charm wasn't in place—and shot up in bed. His hair was disheveled and fell all around his eyes, and his wand, which had been on the nightstand, was gripped in his hand and pointed at nothing.

Severus grumbled as he soaked in his surroundings, realizing that there was no threat and no imminent danger. Not now, at any rate. He rubbed at his forehead, feeling the beads of sweat on his brow and the dampened sheets beneath him, and gave a disgusted snarl.

After throwing back the covers, he fumbled for his black night robe in the darkness, not entirely coherent despite his abilities to awaken far more quickly than any normal human being. Once he found the familiar fabric, he fastened it around himself and stumbled his way to the loo. He switched on the faucet and splashed water onto his face to awaken himself. The cold liquid stung when it hit his skin, and he growled at the terribly frigid sensation it brought. He scrubbed the water harshly over and over again, however, and ran his wet fingers through his already dampened locks before turning the water off at last.

Severus chanced a quick glance into the mirror, a non-magical one, thankfully, only to find the reflection of a very pallid and very unhealthy-looking man staring back; a harsh and unforgiving sight that there ever was. He had finally gotten his breathing under control and was able to stare more intensely at his unsightly features: his bloodshot eyes, the blue-tinted skin beneath them, the abnormally large nose that he loathed, and the thrash marks visible on his exposed collar bone and upper chest area. No one ever saw those. He went out of his way to make sure that his scars were always covered.

Severus turned away in shame and exhaled. Flooding images of his latest round of nightmares came sweeping back to him in his now conscious state, and he squeezed his eyes shut, even though it would make no difference. The flashing pictures contained nothing but death, torture, destruction—recent and old, past and present—and they never ceased, heightening the insomnia and weariness that followed him everywhere, in all manners of the day.

_The torture's getting worse_, Severus reflected, as he gingerly rubbed the back of his neck and groaned out loud. _They're becoming more frequent and far too enjoyable to him._

Severus winced as he continued to untie the excruciating knot at the nape of his neck. His body ached and throbbed from last night's latest torture round with his fellow Death Eaters. As the Dark Lord's followers bought more time, they only grew increasingly less patient, as did their master himself. They were all paying for it in one way or another, including Severus, though the ill-treatment he received wasn't as severe as some of the others. Still, he _did_ pay.

_Oh, yes... Small favors for the price I pay._

Severus had his fill of these incidents long ago, but it was unavoidable. Dumbledore knew it, and so did he. He would have to stomach whatever the Dark Lord did to him—whatever he and his followers did to others—and simply take it and pretend to seek pleasure in the grotesque. He was, of course, quite used to this delicate game of musical chairs, and was numb to the horrors his eyes bore witness to. But it still sickened him in his dreams. It was only in the lull of sleep that they came vividly alive again, berating his conscience, screaming at him in fury for the countless unforgivable things he had done, took part in, or watched and did nothing about.

_It will only get worse_. He snarled aloud and hunched over the sink, staring hard and rather revoltingly at his reflection again. How he hated himself—entirely, unconditionally, without question. _You pathetic sod, Severus. Such is everything about you. You are nothing; a means to an end. No use in hoping for better._

Severus exited the loo, returning to his bed, sluggish and depleted. Whipping out his wand, he quickly cleansed the sheets and removed his briefs, returning to bed naked and exposed. He didn't care. He wouldn't fall back asleep any time soon—probably not at all for the rest of the night—but he would lie awake regardless, brooding as he so often did, until he finally had to get up and face the obnoxious dunderheads who routinely threatened any small peace he had.

_Perhaps Hermione Granger's humorously off-kilter ideas will make this pointless day more bloody interesting_, he considered, stifling a yawn as he stared up at the ceiling. _Hermione Granger... So much is expected of you... I hope you and Potter are ready for what lies ahead, and what I will do..._

_Lily... What am I to do?_

* * *

Hermione was finding it increasingly more difficult to sleep. She was lying awake for hours on end, simply staring at the top of her canopy bed, or at one of the moving photographs on her nightstand.

She didn't like thinking about Professor Snape. Her mind was giving him far too much attention these days, and that in itself alarmed her enough. In fact, she was giving more thought to the Slytherin Head of House than to her beloved Ron, or even to Harry. She was quite relieved that her thoughts were entirely private and that no one suspected anything out of the ordinary. She would be mortified if they knew. It wasn't natural; _it wasn't right_.

Not that her thoughts were inappropriate, really. She just found the longer her detentions went on, the more intriguing the professor became, even if they were always going head-to-head with each other. She really didn't know any more about him, but in the past few weeks he had talked to her more than he had the entire six years she had been at school. And she found that one-on-one, the wizard was much more tolerable, slightly less irritable, and though still snarky and downright cruel at times, there was something _worthy_ about him. Genuine, too. She couldn't put her finger on it.

_You need to stop, Hermione. You're supposed to be using these detentions to your advantage, remember? You're supposed to be digging for information._ In truth, she was doing just that, but the progress she had made so far was tediously slow. The more she was in the dark wizard's company, the more elusive and interesting he became, and her intentions flew to the back of her mind. _Enough, Hermione! _her conscience shouted._ Go to sleep already. Nothing good can come of this..._

* * *

**A/N #2: ...Or can it? ;) **_  
_

**A glimpse into what's happening behind the scenes will surface in the next chapter. Expect more rows on the horizon, too. Nothin' like a heavy-handed argument between two wizard brainiacs to heat things up a bit.  
**


	11. Fresh Observations

**A/N: Voldemort's 'plan' may seem a bit obvious, but... Never mind, I'm just going to leave it at that. Hope you enjoy this one.  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Fresh Observations**

"I've been thinking..."

"Yes, my Lord?"

Severus kept his hands firmly behind his back, not daring to push Voldemort further. It was just the two of them, along with the ever present Nagini, both of whom were circling Severus as they so often did. Normally, his followers cowered before the snake and the mere proximity of their overpowering master, but not Severus. He would never allow himself to be so belittled as to shrink from a maniac who couldn't sniff out a traitor two feet in front of his ugly face.

"We both know Harry Potter and his band of followers won't go down without a fight. Once Dumbledore's out of the picture, the boy's allies may dwindle, but there will remain many who will resist us, probably until the bitter end. What of those closest to him?"

Severus lifted his head a little, eying the Dark Lord inquisitively, though he already suspected where this conversation would drift. "My Lord?"

"_The Mudblood_." Voldemort stopped circling and faced his obedient servant head on. "Are you gaining her trust? Is she coming round?"

Severus didn't bat an eyelash. "I believe so. She is not as intelligent as her reputation precedes."

Voldemort sneered gleefully, his eerie slits for eyes stretching across his translucent skin. "And Dumbledore?"

"He thinks I'm helping her for the same reasons. He doesn't suspect anything, my Lord, I can assure you. He's as much in the dark as ever."

"I'm glad to hear it. You have done well, Severus. _Exceedingly well_. I am impressed."

Severus bowed, grateful that his hair acted as a shield to hide his disgust with himself. "Thank you, my Lord."

"The girl will set a wonderful trap for Potter. I hope you will gain her every confidence, Severus. Much is riding on her cooperation, and your ability to fulfill your end of the bargain."

"I will, my Lord. She may be tougher to break than most her age, but I believe she is already beginning to trust me. You have my word."

"Words can be broken, Severus." Voldemort's quiet, eerie hiss of a reply lingered in the air, filling the room with an uncomfortable tension. He turned away from Severus and glided towards the crackling fireplace, staring into the magnetic flames, his countenance contemplative. "The Mudblood is our access to Potter. The other, as you have already elaborated, will be easily disposable. He's a pureblood, you say?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Such a pity... To be of noble blood but of no particular value. Oh, well. He is of little threat to our operations. The clever Mudblood though... _She_ is our direct link to Potter. There can be no mistakes."

"Do I have your confidence, my Lord?" Severus pressed.

Voldemort turned his head and stared at the dark wizard without regard, but then Severus Snape was his only follower who dared to make such inquiries. It was something the Dark Lord seemed to revel in, rather than dismiss.

"_You do, Severus_," he answered slowly, though his response made Severus's skin crawl beneath the confinement of his frock coat. "You will gain the girl's trust and give her up to me when the time is right. You have my confidence, Severus, _so do not disappoint me_."

* * *

"Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

Snape tossed a handful of Ashwinder eggs into his cauldron, his attention cast away from her as had been the case for the past hour or so. He sounded disinterested as usual, but Hermione was more than accustomed to his sour drawl by this point.

"You asked me some time ago if I was a religious person. I was just wondering... Are you?"

Snape stiffened for a fleeting moment before the muscles in his back relaxed, and he slowly turned around to face her, staring with heightened suspicion. "Of what interest are my personal beliefs to _you?_"

Hermione frowned. "It was only a question. You asked me. I was just returning the inquiry." She stopped before quickly adding, "I meant no offense."

Snape saw the young lady's cheeks turn a bright rose—visible despite the darkened room—and she hastily turned a page in her book and bowed her head of furious curls. Was she really foolish enough to try to pull that stunt on him and think that it worked?

Snape was silent for a time, blatantly staring at Hermione's flushed face, or what little he could see of it, before answering matter-of-factly, "I am not."

Hermione peered up at him, unaware that he had still been considering her question. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm not a religious person."

"Oh."

Snape flinched. "Does that disappoint you?"

"What? No. I just..."

"_What_, Granger?"

"You don't celebrate Christmas then?"

Snape threw down his stirring rod, turned around completely, and crossed his arms, giving her his direct focus and attention. He wasn't cross but rather indifferent.

"I see no reason to celebrate a holiday I do not believe in."

Hermione's spirals fell to one side as she considered him thoughtfully. "Oh... Are you an atheist then?"

Snape shrugged, apathetic. "I am of no particular belief system."

"Oh." Hermione wasn't exactly sure how she felt about that. Perhaps it was just his middling reply, but it didn't sit well with her one bit. "Well, I confess, I do love Christmas. It's all quite warm and wonderful and magic in itself, really."

Snape snorted. "I thought you weren't religious?"

Hermione shifted in her chair. "To be honest, I don't really know _what_ I believe in. I... I'm still trying to figuring that out, I suppose." She paused again, following the soft, subtle movements of his eyes as they regarded her. "Will you be sticking around here over the Christmas break then?"

Hermione already knew the answer. It was hardly a secret that the reclusive wizard always remained at Hogwarts over the holidays, probably over the summer months as well, though no one really knew that for sure. As the student body so often snickered, the miserable louse 'had no social life.' Where else would he go? What on earth would he do? _Who_ would want his company? He had no love interest—an unfathomable idea to everyone—and certainly no presents to buy.

Hermione admittedly never really gave the man's reclusive existence much thought in the past, but now she found that it did, in fact, bother her, and the comments that still floated around about him this time of year disheartened her to hear. _But she shouldn't care._ It was none of her business how the professor chose to celebrate or not celebrate the holidays—with or without company—and he would surely say so if she were to be so bold as to push the subject.

_After all, Hermione, it isn't like Snape cares about what _you_ think of him or what he does in his spare time._ At least, that's what she thought.

"Why do my holiday plans matter?" Snape surveyed her more, with obvious distrust.

"Nothing. Except, if you will be here, um, well, I will be, too. And I thought that perhaps, maybe, we could make some more headway on researching about these Horcruxes? Or perhaps discuss these textbooks in more detail? I still have questions for you. I've almost completed the third book. I can have them back to you probably as early as the weekend."

Hermione knew this was a gamble. She didn't dislike Snape anymore, but she wasn't exactly looking forward to the prospect of spending _more_ time with him either. Hermione carefully watched the contortions of his face manifest, the wrinkles in his brow and around his mouth growing more severe.

"Why on earth would you be staying here over break, Granger?"

The question was soft spoken, especially for him, and Hermione hadn't expected it. "Well, my parents are traveling abroad right now and were thinking about extending their holiday in Prague. I really didn't want to impose on them or force them to cut their vacation short; they really never get time off to spend together anymore. And I'm not really interested in spending Christmas in a foreign place either. I prefer the usual comforts. So I opted to stay here over break."

"What about the Burrow?"

Hermione eyed him inquisitively. These weren't the sort of responses she had anticipated. She expected a snarky put down, and he still hadn't addressed her proposition yet.

"Um, well, I'm planning to spend Christmas Day there, but I'd prefer to stay here the remainder of break. It's just easier that way."

If Hermione were being honest with herself, she really didn't want to see Ron or risk running into Lavender, if the prissy girl decided to pay him a visit. And after his collection of recent outbursts towards her, she didn't care for his company all that much anyhow. It was all still too raw and painful.

"Very well."

Hermione blinked. "Oh! Really?"

Snape rolled his dark eyes and sighed heavily. "Would you refrain from answering me back with questions all the time, Granger? It's driving me mad. You asked, and I've agreed. So, there you have it."

With that, he swiftly turned his back on her and continued working his potion, adding ingredients to his latest attempt at a successfully revised anti-venom. Hermione unconsciously stared at his back, discerning traces of his moving shoulder blades beneath the tightness of his coat. His charcoal tresses fell loosely about his neck, the long strands swaying with every small turn of his head. Hermione hadn't really paid attention to the professor's hair much; it never seemed to be a very attractive feature of his. But in such dismal lighting, and with the array of candles stationed around his work area that now put him in a gentler spotlight, Hermione scrutinized him for quite some time without realizing it, and found the sight actually a bit _arresting_...

Snape's locks had always looked greasy, limp, and altogether unflattering. But something had changed. The black strands, straggly and rather coarse-looking at a distance, on closer inspection were softer, particularly against the serene orange and yellow hues of candlelight. They were wavy near the tips and unpredictably curled in every different direction like an array of grape vines.

Was he showering more or something? Was he actually putting forth some kind of an effort, or was that all in her head? Studying the fine strands, Hermione unknowingly found herself wondering what they might feel like to touch...

"So why the interest in my holiday plans?"

Hermione felt as if she had hit a cement wall. Her delicate eyes flickered, bringing her back to her senses. "Come again?"

"You seem to be taking a rather _curious_ interest in my private affairs all of a sudden. Why is that?"

Hermione couldn't tell if he was just being his sober, moody self or perhaps—if she dared allow herself to believe—_playful_, but the latter seemed wholly impossible, so she answered solemnly, "I was just making conversation. That's all."

"Indeed."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Snape snorted at her with his back still turned. "Only that you, Potter, and Weasley have had it out for me for a fairly long time; I take it that your questions about my personal life are in another relentless pursuit to uncover something scandalous about me. Am I off base in my assumption?"

Hermione was baffled. "What? _Oh, honestly!_ Can't anyone simply have a civilized conversation with you?"

She hadn't meant to sound so harsh; nevertheless, Snape shifted his body away from his cauldron to make eye contact again, and the normally listless irises were now surging with anger, very much alive.

"Depends on who it is."

"Huh?"

"Depends on the company," he repeated, this time with bite. "I am more than capable of conversing with whomever I please, as unenlightening and monotonous as I find most society to be. But if I _enjoy_ the company, which is, indeed, a rarity, I am not as difficult to talk to as your prejudiced Gryffindor mind takes me for."

Hermione didn't really know what to say to _that_. If this was the professor's way of making small talk, then, to her, it was most odd and unnatural, not to mention rude.

"Well, obviously you don't appreciate _my_ company if that's what you're trying to hint at with such subtly and politeness."

_How foolishly blind you are_, Snape thought to himself, sneering at the heated young female a few feet away,_ or perhaps it is _I_ who am the fool..._

Snape quickly swallowed his contemplations and pierced her with his reply. "Very enlightening, Granger. Well done. And anyhow, you have yet to answer my question, so I shall assume for the time being that I am correct."

"No, you're not. You're wrong, and I didn't answer it because it was insulting."

"_Insulting?_" Snape snipped acidly. "It's you and your mindless Gryffindor herd that have been trying to undo_ me_ for years, so spare me how slighted _you_ feel, if you please!"

"Oh, for goodness' sake, I'm not trying to 'undo' you!" Hermione slammed her book down and stared him down heatedly from across the divide that separated them. "I told you before, you bring these projections upon yourself! It's not my fault!"

"Don't take me for a fool." His tone of voice had grown considerably darker in such a short span of time, and Hermione didn't like it one bit. "And don't ask me about my private life again."

"Oh, well, pardon me! I _hardly_ care what you do with your free time. I was simply making small talk, something you clearly are no good at. I'll refrain in the future if it bothers you so much!"

She swiftly returned to her book, but the visible redness on her cheeks informed Snape that she was far too infuriated to give the textbook her undivided concentration. Her eyes may have been scanning the page, but he suspected that she wasn't reading a single word of it.

A weighty sigh escaped his mouth, and as he turned around to stir his potion again, he chanced one last fleeting glance in her direction. "It doesn't bother me," he grumbled, more to himself than to her.

He hadn't meant to say it out loud and hurriedly busied himself, not chancing another glimpse at her for fear of confirming that the young lady had, in fact, heard him. He wasn't aware of Hermione now gawking at him unabashedly, entirely stumped by what to make of those four little words.

* * *

"So is Ron annoyed?"

"_Of course_, 'Mione," Harry whispered, taking a sip of cider as they huddled together in a corner, ignoring Slughorn's Christmas party for the time being. "I don't understand you two. Just cough it up and admit it to him already, would you?"

Hermione almost dropped her cup. "_What?_"

"You have feelings for each other, 'Mione. It's obvious Ron feels the same; he's just being too much of a prat to admit it. _He likes you._ And Lavender's driving him mad. I think they're going to break up soon."

Hermione was receptive to this happy bit of news and couldn't help but smile; however, his recent nasty behavior was still heavily inscribed in her mind. Most nights, the reminder of him calling her a 'bitch' and a 'wench' were the last reflections she thought on before falling to sleep. She no longer cried, but that didn't mean she wasn't still terribly hurt by what happened. Ron had never bothered to apologize, and when he did actually manage to speak to her, as he had in the common room only a week ago, he acted as if nothing had happened, that she was wrong for trusting Professor Snape and was somehow deranged.

"I'm not interested in being Ron's rebound, Harry," she managed, after composing herself. "If that's how he truly feels, then let him break up with Lavender and come to me. I'm not about to wedge myself between two people in a relationship, even if it _is_ going nowhere."

Harry sighed and shook his messy, overgrown hair. "When are you two ever going to just let bygones be bygones?"

"When Ron stops being a foul git and grows up!"

"Um, you may be waiting a really long time then, 'Mione..."

"_Exactly_, and I don't intend to wait!"

She was surprised by how much she meant that statement. In truth, her feelings for Ron had changed a bit. She still cared about him immensely, but it was no longer the silly crush it had started out as. Ron's erratic, testy behavior the past few months was bringing out a different side to her friend she didn't like, and it made him less appealing than before.

Regardless of his faults, however, a deep part of her pined after the redhead, but it was all starting to feel more or less for naught. Hermione wasn't a great beauty, she knew, even if she was entering into womanhood, and it didn't make her think that growing a pair of breasts meant she had any better chance with Ron than she had in the past.

Luckily, Luna skipped over to them at that moment, distracting them from the uneasy conversation that Hermione was desperate to end. "Harry! Hermione! What's the secret?"

"Nothing, Luna," Harry said a little too hastily. "I'm sorry for disappearing on you. Want to get some food, preferably before it's gone? I think I spotted Neville over there earlier."

"Sure." Her dreamy eyes cast themselves on Hermione and she smiled in that dazed-like manner she always displayed. "Is it about Ron?"

Hermione almost dropped her cup a second time. "Wha - What?"

"Oh, it's all right, Hermione. Everyone can tell you both like each other a lot. _Everyone knows._ I won't tell anyone though, if that's what you're worried about."

"Um, c'mon, Luna," Harry snickered, taking her by the hand and leading her away, into the throng of mingling students and staff. "Let's give 'Mione some breathing room."

Hermione was more than a tad grateful to be alone and let out the breath she had been holding in. She wanted to sink into that shadowy corner of the room and disappear after hearing what Luna announced.

_So everyone knows... Oh, Merlin, no!_

Hermione scanned the crowd to distract herself from the unsettling ramblings spinning about in her head. So far, she had successfully avoided her date for at least part of the evening, and was determined to keep her eye out for any sign of him when she spotted the trail of a familiar black cloak and equally dark tresses across the room, standing at the punchbowl with the most unlikely company: Professor Slughorn and Harry. Luna had apparently ventured off somewhere else.

Snape's back was turned, and Hermione could see his hands clasped together rather rigidly behind him as he listened to a very animated Slughorn relaying some undoubtedly boring story the wizard probably wasn't remotely interested in hearing. Harry looked just as awkward and displeased to be in Snape's presence. Whatever her new Potions instructor was jabbering on about to the pair of them, Snape and Harry were silent and still, not making much eye contact with one another; it made her unconsciously stifle a giggle.

_So childish._

Finally, Hermione chanced moving away from her little spot of sanctuary to dispose of her cup and perhaps eavesdrop on their conversation. She was inching along the wall to stay out of people's way and not be spotted, when she practically ran into the professor without warning. She stumbled backward and let out a small cry of surprise, almost tripping on her high heels, but felt a warm hand seize her arm to prevent her fall.

"You really should be more careful, Miss Granger!" she heard Snape rumble in that deeply irritated purr of his.

Gathering her balance, Hermione stared up at him awkwardly. "Erm, sorry, sir. I didn't see you there."

Snape promptly rolled his eyes. "Of course not."

"Well, your _extravagant_ attire doesn't exactly make you stand out from the shadows, does it?"

Hermione froze, realizing his pale hand was still wrapped around her exposed arm. He suddenly became aware at the same moment as she, and swiftly removed his grip, grunting with discomfort.

"If you intend on spending the evening sulking about in a corner, then why did you bother to come at all?"

Hermione blinked and searched his face. She couldn't make out anything tangible in those obsidian eyes, but she found herself transfixed, nevertheless.

"I was invited."

_What a stupid answer, Hermione._

Her reply caused a similarly dumbfounded reaction from Snape, albeit understated, that only made her want to disappear again. "Well, if you find conversing with yourself stimulating enough, then I won't deter you any longer."

"Hold on a second." Hermione reached out and grabbed hold of Snape's arm without thinking. He practically jumped back at her touch, as if he had been electrocuted, when Hermione immediately realized her blunder and removed her hand. "Sorry! Um, I just thought— Was there something you wanted to tell me, Professor?"

"Not at all." She hated the look of repulsion he was giving her now. "I am simply on my way out."

"Oh... You're leaving?"

She almost sounded disappointed, but Snape quickly concluded he must have misheard her. "So it would seem."

"Are you going to work on your research then?" She lowered her voice, adding, "Or the Horcruxes?"

Hermione couldn't seem to stop herself from sounding interested, and it only confused Snape more. He stepped back and eyed her over with apprehension.

"Miss Granger, you're not serving detention with me tonight. Shouldn't you consider that a blessing?"

Hermione instantly turned red. "I - I was just curious if you're making any headway, that's all..."

Those caramel eyes, however, betrayed her words easily enough. Snape could decipher the young Gryffindor like a textbook, just as he could when reading anyone's behavior, including that of the Dark Lord himself. _She was lonely, and desperate to converse with someone. Desperate enough to forgo a night with her friends in place of him._

Even if he understood the gravity of what lay behind that longing all too well, Snape wasn't about to show her any sympathy. _You can't, Severus, so don't._

He frowned and gave her a somber look. "You should go..."

"Pardon?"

"If you wish to avoid your date all evening, Miss Granger, then you should leave. Clearly, you're not enjoying yourself, and there's no legitimate reason for standing in a corner by yourself. It's a folly and rather absurd. I think you could make better use of your time."

_Damn it, Severus, you fool!_

Though he meant to offer her sincere advice, Hermione immediately went on the offense. She crossed her arms and her eyes turned cold, as frigid and unforgiving as his could be.

"I'm not avoiding anyone!"

"_Really?_"

His sarcasm made Hermione's blood boil. "Yes! And what do you care—"

"Believe me, I don't."

"Figures!"

"Miss Granger—"

"I'll leave when I choose to leave, Professor. Thank you very much!"

"Suit yourself."

He gave her an obnoxiously confounding sort of smirk she didn't understand and, swishing his robes back with a graceful wave, stalked off, away from the merry holiday celebration, leaving Hermione standing flushed and foolishly alone in front of the entryway.

_Oh, that wretched, aggravating sod! For goodness' sake!_

Hermione let out a frustrated snarl and, despite another warning in her head, stomped off after him. He was purposely trying to agitate her now, she concluded easily enough, but if she_ could_ make better use of her time, then she would try to at least get more information out of the miserable man.

As Hermione rushed down a dimly lit corridor and rounded the corner, she caught sight of those wonderfully dramatic, surging robes again. Trying to remain discreet, Hermione trekked quickly but quietly down the hall and followed him all the way to the D.A.D.A. classroom.

She was about to call out to him and make her presence known when Snape, his back still turned, propped the door open with a loud bang and barked first, "There is no need to stalk me, Granger. You're no good at it. Remember what I told you? Subtly isn't your specialty."

Hermione jolted. The man really _did_ have eyes in the back of his head, something she and her friends had been complaining about for years. She cautiously approached him and waited once she reached the door, thinking he might turn around and acknowledge her presence. Instead, he strutted to the front of the room in silence, beckoning her to follow, or so she assumed.

Snape whipped his lean form around and stared her down properly, crossing his arms over his chest as he reclined against the front of his desk. "Wish to make better use of your time then?" he inquired with supposed indignation.

Hermione remained inert in the middle of the doorway, staring at him with a puzzled brow. "Sir?"

Snape looked away from her momentarily and sighed. He looked extremely tired again; more so than usual, she thought. He motioned for her to enter with a severe jerk of his head, which she did without delay.

"I sense you've had something pressing your mind for several weeks now, and I've had enough. _Out with it._"

Hermione was hardly prepared for a confrontation. That wasn't why she had come. She swallowed quickly and hitched a sharp breath. "Sir..."

"I haven't got all night," he snapped, and the severity of his words made her jolt.

"Fine! If you insist, I want to know why you came to my defense in the library."

Snape's shoulders caved. "Is _that_ what this is all about?"

"No, it's one of many things that's been troubling me, actually. Why did you do it?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Hermione forced herself to remain calm. "No..."

"It was vulgar and derogatory. I may not like you much, Granger, but no young lady should be addressed in that manner, especially when, in your case, it wasn't warranted. I don't care what the circumstances were, or why, but I overheard Weasley, and I put a stop to it. If he showed any indication of becoming a _real_ man in the future, he'd have never called you by such foul names in the first place. Happy?"

Despite her flushed cheeks, Hermione kept her composure intact. "But, surely, you've heard those ugly terms being thrown around here before? Lots of students use that kind of language on each other."

Snape's black eyes constricted. "Are you saying you _enjoy_ being called a 'bitch' and a 'wench,' Granger?"

"Of course not! Not at all! I'm just saying... I was surprised to see you come to _my_ defense is all."

Snape shuffled his feet and let out a low grunt. "Don't mistake my interference as some misplaced moment of grandeur. Any other teacher who overheard Weasley talking so revoltingly would have put a stop to it. What I did wasn't any different to what any other sensible person would have done."

"Oh. Well... Thank you, regardless." Hermione laced her hands together and examined them, too abashed to look him in the face anymore. "I - I've been meaning to thank you for some time—"

"Don't," Snape returned without feeling. "It is unnecessary."

Hermione finally met his hard eyes, disappointed and hurt, but she knew she shouldn't have expected anything gentler from him. "All right then," she concluded quietly.

"What else?"

Snape kept his arms firmly locked across his chest with his jaw set at an unpleasant angle. He was obviously taking no pleasure in any of this, but he had let her in and was the one pressing the discussion, so she willingly played along.

"The other week, when I was addressing you repeatedly and you didn't seem to hear or comprehend that I was there... What was that about?"

Snape surprised Hermione by immediately straightening up, his arms still intertwined, and a stern grimace formed along the lines of his mouth. The crease between his eyes also became more severe. In that instant, Hermione gathered that she had touched upon a nerve, _a very wrong nerve_.

"That is none of your business," he hissed with a slightly elevated temper. "What makes you think you have the right to ask me these questions?"

Hermione took a half-step backward, genuinely frightened by the reaction she was receiving. "I'm not trying to pry, Professor. _Honestly._ I was only asking out of concern."

"_Concern?_" The mockery he used sent a cold shiver down Hermione's back. "You mean to tell me that Hermione Granger—the insufferable know-it-all, the Chosen One's closest ally—would ask _me_ something out of 'concern'?" He lowered his eyes an inch or two, and the glare he shot her bordered on savagery. "What kind of fool do you take me for?"

"_What?_"

"I thought you showed actual signs of intelligence these past few weeks, but, alas, I stand corrected. You are as mindless as every other Gryffindor I've ever had the misfortune to encounter. Your lot claims to see the good in others when all the while you try to undermine and deceive—"

"Whoa, back up just a second!" Hermione threw up her hands, astounded and appalled by his testy outburst. His words were heated and dripping with contempt.

"All these years, you and the rest of your little trio have sought to sabotage me. Not that you would have ever succeeded, and there were many times I found your assumptions, not to mention your pathetic attempts at doing so, laughable. They were one of my few sources of entertainment, but nevertheless, you were_ still_ imprudent enough to believe you could. The audacity! So, where is this newfound conscientiousness of yours coming from, Granger? And what abominably high self-confidence must a young witch like you possess to believe I'd take anything that comes out of that mouth of yours as sincere? You _really_ think you can outsmart _me?_"

For a moment, Hermione could say nothing, only stare at his pale, contorted face, wide-eyed and completely baffled. It was the same sort of gut wrenching blow Hermione received not too long ago when she caught that glimpse of pain lurking behind the lonely wizard's eyes. It all seemed like a dream now in light of the rigid, raven irises that, at the moment, projected nothing but bitterness.

"My god..." Hermione breathed, drawing closer instead of further away. "You're paranoid. You really don't trust _anyone_, do you?"

Snape evidently wasn't prepared for that, and certainly not from her. His countenance softened for a fleeting moment, a flash of his walls falling down around him, before he hastened them up again with a stiff upper lip.

"I've heard just about enough from you—"

"No! Just a minute! Why won't you answer me?"

Hermione hadn't given much thought until very recently just what kind of an isolated, dismal existence the man must live. For being such a social recluse, was it little wonder that he mistrusted and misjudged everything that came out of her mouth?

Hermione took several steps closer, no longer afraid, but Snape's walls were back up and in full force. "It is none of your business whether I trust people or not. And believe me, Granger, I have every justification for distrusting _you_."

"And in all fairness, I could say the same about you!" she exclaimed, desperate to find a way in. "You've never shown me_ any_ visible indication to believe otherwise! Yet _I've_ been the one standing here since the very beginning of our sessions, trying to level with you and understand who you really are."

Severus snarled and ran his elegant fingers through his dark locks, clearly unraveled. "_Oh, please._"

"That's rich! I guess I've been wasting my bloody time then. How utterly stupid I was to think you capable of being _anything more_ than what I see!"

Snape rounded on her in a flash. He stalked over to where she stood and towered over her, his nose practically touching hers. Hermione could feel his warm, uneven breaths on her face. It made her angry eyes flutter, almost dazed by just how close he was.

"And, pray tell, Granger, _what do you see? What am I?_"

In that moment, Hermione met his glare with equal distemper. "You're a bitter, miserable, unhappy man dead set on making everyone else's lives just as wretched as yours, simply because life hasn't dealt you the cards that you wanted!"

"Why you ignorant—"

"You obviously want to make some sort of connection with people, including me, but you're unwilling to communicate or even try. And then you have the nerve to insult me, the sole individual who's actually been trying to establish a connection with you! Why the hell I've even bothered this long is beyond me. You aren't worth it!"

"If you were any good at communication yourself, we wouldn't be standing here, and you'd be off pining for the ghastly ginger that verbally abuses and criticizes you for your intelligence!"

_Shit._

Snape flinched. He hadn't meant to blurt out such an observation, but it was too late.

Hermione blushed, mortified that her secrets were being unleashed by the very last person she would have ever expected. But more so than that, there was feeling behind his words, and that shocked her, too. "Wha - What? I'm not—"

"You're clever, but you're far too easy to read, Granger. I've told you that before."

"Well, you're not so competent yourself, Professor!"

Severus flashed, provoking her. "_Aren't I?_"

"No! You hate everybody, you treat everyone around you like vermin, then you brush yourself off and walk away! You're vile, your actions are contemptible, and your behavior towards others makes me ill! And you're incapable of _any_ goodness, worthiness, or honor!"

Hermione's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach almost as soon as the words escaped her mouth. She hadn't meant to go that far; as a matter of fact, she hadn't meant a word of what she just said regarding the man's worthiness or honor, but they were now unleashed, and there was no going back.

Hermione anticipated another outburst in return, another row or another series of putdowns, but to her shock, nothing of the sort occurred. Snape stepped back, his lips woven tightly together. A muscle in his cheek twitched and the expression he gave her was another twisted, subtle hint of entangled slight and injury. Her guilty conscience reacted and she extended her arm towards him, but he recoiled, just as she feared he would.

"You're mistaken," he whispered, his voice hushed and pained. "You are wrong about my honor, Miss Granger... _Very wrong_."

Hermione wanted to say something, perhaps even apologize, but she lost the opportunity. Snape suddenly flinched and clasped his left arm, inhaling a sharp breath. A flicker of panic swept across his face and he hurried away from her, towards the staircase that led to his office.

"Professor!" Hermione called after him, but Snape was too fast.

"This discussion is over! Leave me be! _NOW!_"

With that, he disappeared into his office and slammed the door, leaving Hermione trumped and bewildered in the middle of the abandoned classroom. She waited another minute or two, allowing the quarrel that had ensued to wash over her, before she regained a bit of composure and made a fleeting decision; one that, even in the heat of the moment, she suspected might cost her dearly.

Hermione sprang up the stone staircase and pounded on the door several times. When she received no answer, she tried the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked, and flung herself forward, only to be stumped again.

Severus Snape wasn't in his office. He was gone, and her opportunity to set things right was lost, along with the wounded wizard who had vanished without a trace.

* * *

**A/N #2: There's more to where _that_ came from. Two steps forward, one step back with these two. But that might change.  
**


	12. In Need of a Friend

**A/N: A rather lengthy chapter awaits. Lots of intrigue, conversation, and continued 'butting heads' here. Are we sensing a pattern with these two? ;)  
**

**As a side note, but also equally important, _thank you so much_ for all the feedback many of you have been kind enough to offer since this story got started. I do love hearing from you guys; it's a treat, so _thank you_ again.  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 12: In Need of a Friend**

Unbeknownst to Snape, Hermione waited around his office for a considerable length of time, all the while thinking he might return and that she might get her chance to set things right. She didn't think anyone could Apparate in and out of Hogwarts, but it seemed the only logical explanation for the man's abrupt disappearance. Hermione paced back and forth for a while, stewing over their argument. The more she thought about it, the more conflicted she became.

_Hermione, enough! Why does it even bother you? He's an arse! He probably deserved it... No. No, he didn't... And you know it. But then you didn't deserve his mistreatment either. This is absurd! Why do you care so much?_

Hermione had been so struck by their row that she completely forgot about another sober reality: she was in Severus Snape's office, entirely alone, the place was deserted, and it was the perfect opportunity to do some proper snooping around. Harry and Ron would have leaped at this golden chance without question, but the always curious Hermione, for once, couldn't bring herself to do so. She felt nauseated, a feeling she felt whenever she argued with someone—normally a person she cared about—and just couldn't leave the matter alone.

She would ponder, over-analyze, and sweat it out until she and the professor came to some sort of understanding. But then this wasn't just anyone; undoubtedly, the resentful sod could hold a grudge much longer than she could. And this wasn't her friend either. She wasn't even sure if she considered him a mentor, for that matter, considering how badly he seemed to despise her. He was someone else entirely: a man she had known for six years, and yet, didn't really know a damn thing about.

Hermione's eyes finally scanned the confines of Snape's circular office. The stone walls were practically bare, with only two or three hanging images along the wall opposite her. Without hesitation, she walked over and attempted to examine them, but the ridiculously dark lighting made Hermione snarl aloud and whip out her wand.

"_Lumos!_"

Squinting against the bright beam of light at the tip of her wand, Hermione examined the hanging pictures carefully. The largest frame encased Snape's diploma for his Masters in Potions-making. It was properly sealed and authenticated, but looked ill-cared for, and its worn, tasteless frame was hardly befitting of such an accomplishment. Hermione couldn't help but shake her head. She quickly resolved to do something she thought might help.

_He'll be infuriated with you for this, Hermione_, her mind warned, but she ignored the voice of reason in her head and cast her wand over the frame, expanding its length and transfiguring the border itself into something thicker and more elaborate-looking, suitable and worthy of a Potions Master's diploma. She stood back to examine her work with satisfaction and moved on.

The second image was either a photograph or a painting—she couldn't quite tell in such darkness—but the subject matter was a dreary-looking brick house. It didn't look like much of anything, really. Dull, with dark shutters, drawn curtains, and a gloomy, overcast sky, none of the features of the place painted it in a better light. Hermione had no idea of what this place could be, or what significance it might hold to Snape, and moved on to the next image.

Her curiosity turned to the final frame: a black and white moving photograph of a woman, perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties, staring straight ahead without much reaction or glimmer of emotion. The picture was old and tarnished, and the woman was not attractive; at least, not in the conventional sense. She had long, limp strands of sable hair, equally colorless eyes that stared out at the viewer, lifeless and empty, and a trademark scowl Hermione instantly recognized.

_Severus Snape's mother?_

Hermione's eyebrows lifted as she soaked in the fascinating photograph. She knew virtually nothing about the mysterious wizard's life, no information about his early days at Hogwarts, his family, or if he still had any living relatives, and her mind wandered to the strange woman in the photograph; it was seemingly the only link to a buried past no one was privy to, except the man himself.

_How sad_, she reflected, pouting without realizing it.

Hermione reluctantly tore her gaze away from the wall and nearly dropped her wand on the floor. She gasped and let out a small cry of alarm but swiftly recovered, her heart pounding against her chest. Snape was standing in front of the fireplace with his own wand drawn. It was pointed directly at her, which frightened Hermione enough, but his heartless glare was what really set her on edge. No matter how many times she saw it, it never was easier to stomach.

Hermione hadn't heard him reenter his office; he could have been standing there for several minutes without her knowing. It was unnerving how quiet, quick, and altogether dangerous the professor could be, but Hermione was also secretly impressed, despite the compromising circumstance she now found herself in.

"Enjoying yourself?" Snape purred softly, keeping his wand pointed at her face. "Making yourself at home, are you? Can I offer you a cup of tea?"

"Wha - What?" Hermione stuttered.

"What are you doing in my office?"

"I..."

"Looking for something? Something damaging, perhaps? Further evidence of the selfish, worthless prick you take me for?"

His words stung, and caused her to flinch and recoil a step or two. "I... I didn't mean it."

"Granger—"

"I came in here to apologize to you, but you were gone."

"And so you sought your opportunity and snuck around my office!"

_Damn it, Severus! How the hell did you forget to lock it before you left?_

Snape's eyes scanned the contents of the room, undoubtedly looking for hints of any disturbances to his belongings. He was relatively surprised to find nothing out of place, except the frame of his diploma on the wall.

_What the hell?_

"No, I didn't! Honestly!" Hermione threw up her free hand and lifted her wand in a swift display of surrender, interrupting his thoughts. "I was a little too preoccupied with our argument to do anything of the sort! I - I _did_ look at your photographs on the wall here, but that's all—"

"_Enough_." Hermione shut her mouth and waited anxiously. "Your curiosity isn't doing you any favors. I suggest you take your leave. Immediately."

Hermione, however, lingered another moment and eyed the image of the dark woman on the wall again before turning back to the menacing wizard with the drawn wand. She suddenly appeared to no longer be afraid. There was something else present in the rich depths of her warm eyes that Snape found himself reacting to, and it unhinged him internally.

"Your mother," she whispered in a thoughtful tone that made Snape blink hard and momentarily lose his focus. "You look like her."

Before Snape could make sense of her remark, Hermione walked to the door with her eyes diverted and grabbed hold of the handle. She spun around—wanting to relay to him what she originally came there to say—but found that Snape had lowered his wand and was staring off in front of him, his gaze not really directed at her, the photograph, or anything in particular. He looked lost, as if he were about to fade amongst the suffocating darkness that threatened to engulf him.

Snape was incapable of processing the remark she had just dealt, an insight into his world through a mere photograph, without him offering up any revelations of his own free will. He was entirely unraveled by this, but Hermione had no way of knowing. All she could see was a man who appeared seemingly hopeless...

"I'm sorry," he heard the young Gryffindor whisper across the room, and he was further struck by the sincerity that her words carried.

Snape slowly turned his head, but the contact they made was brief and painful to both. Without another word, Hermione bowed respectfully and shut the door, and Snape let out a deep breath and hunched over his desk, his brow furrowed in unabashed wonderment.

Hermione Granger was surprising him more and more—catching him off his guard repeatedly—and that _never_ happened to him. He certainly didn't like it; she had already come too close for comfort, but he couldn't seem to push her away. Either it was her own doing or his, but, for once, he wasn't entirely sure.

_Blasted Gryffindor..._

Why hadn't he hexed her? Why hadn't he reprimanded her on the spot? If it were Potter or Weasley, he wouldn't have hesitated or thought twice about punishing them accordingly for being in his office. Why had he simply stood there like an idiot and let her make an ignorant comment like that about his mother? She didn't know him, and yet, she had managed to somehow find a way in. The lock Hermione unlatched was minuscule, but it was disarming.

_She's seeing far too much and you're just letting it happen!_ Snape willfully shut his eyes, trying not to growl into the dead of night, but the familiar rumble escaped his lips anyhow. _Severus, you fool..._

* * *

Christmas break began shortly following Slughorn's party, and Hermione was rather grateful to have the majority of Hogwarts at her disposal. There were, of course, a handful of stragglers who stayed behind like her, but no one from any of her sixth year classes in particular, so she wouldn't risk running into people she knew, which was one good thing in her favor, or so she thought.

Hermione welcomed the solitude and the opportunity to be alone with her thoughts. She desperately needed to clear her head, and she was also determined to reach a decision about Ron and where their relationship could go from here, if anywhere. The consequences of what _that_ might entail weighed heavily on her mind, despite her attempts to distract herself with plenty of reading material, as usual.

It was partly for that reason that she sought out the company of Professor Snape, though she wasn't about to let him know. He would probably laugh in her face and send her packing. As long as she was interested in receiving his instruction, and as long as he saw fit to continue her detentions, Hermione would make do with the Slytherin's company, even if she couldn't bring herself to admit yet just how much she was actually looking forward to them. At the very least, it distracted her, and that was all she needed right now.

Harry and Ginny were reluctant to leave Hermione alone the last day before break and couldn't make sense of her not wanting to stay at the Burrow, but considering the awkwardness now between her and Ron, they didn't press the matter too much. Hermione needed this personal time, and she was secretly looking forward to possibly working more closely with Snape on uncovering a few things of her own. Naturally, she didn't disclose this to Harry or Ginny either. They would think she had gone mental, so it was just as well.

Snape was evidently too busy to be bothered with rehashing their previous heated exchange and set Hermione to work immediately the day following the beginning of break. She detested how he saw fit to ignore everything that had passed between them, especially in light of the sincere apology she had given him. He didn't seem remotely interested in bringing the matter up again, and never saw fit to apologize himself, which Hermione thought she deserved to hear.

_Don't waste your breath, Hermione_, she reminded herself the second day they had worked on another concoction of the professor's research with hardly a single engaging word all day._ You'll be in your grave before Severus Snape ever offers you any sort of apology, so give it up._

Halfway through the week, Hermione was returning to the classroom after retrieving a book Snape had requested from the library, when she found him in an unusual position. He was sitting—very relaxed—on top of his desk with one knee propped up. His shoulders were hunched over as he read a bit of text from an undisclosed book, his black strands of hair draped forward to half obscure his face. Hermione had begun to notice in recent weeks that he tended to do that often, especially when he didn't want to be looked at, or was trying to conceal his emotions. It was actually rather endearing, but also a little sad.

"I checked out that book on the usages and potencies of unicorn blood for you."

"Lay it down on my desk," he drawled, turning the page of his book and continuing to read without interruption.

Hermione did as he requested but stood nearby, watching him silently. She noted how his eyes were squinted over the page, how he was once again unconsciously moving his lips and whispering the words on the page in a soft, soothing sort of purr, and how the delicate hairs around his eyes and distinguished nose looked rather soft from this proximity. She cocked her head to one side, scrutinizing him thoughtfully.

"Do you think the use of unicorn blood has something else to do with the Dark Lord's longevity, other than what we already know?"

"Of course it does," Snape confirmed, without looking up. "You already discovered that in your first year, I believe."

Hermione willed herself not to go red in the face and bit her lower lip. "Then what do you need this for if it has nothing to do with Voldemort?"

"I never said it didn't."

"Could you elaborate for me just a tad?"

Snape shifted to the next page with a frown. "Use your imagination, Granger."

Hermione sighed and gave in to another one of his mental charades that involved her running around in circles. As annoying as it was, at least it was stimulating conversation. Well, to _her_ anyway; she had no idea if the former Potions instructor got the same enjoyment out of any of this, but she suspected he didn't. 'Enjoyment' didn't seem to be a part of the man's vocabulary...

"Well, the unicorn blood keeps one alive, but at the price of living a cursed life. Voldemort stayed alive this way by attaching himself to Professor Quirrell, but Quirrell was the one who drank the blood, so Voldemort couldn't have technically been cursed. I mean, I've never known for sure, but I've concluded it probably couldn't have happened."

"So it would seem," Snape replied with slight interest, though he still didn't acknowledge her with his eyes.

Hermione inched closer, observing with peculiarity the understated lines on his face, which were altering with each passing exchange between them. "Then if Voldemort wasn't cursed, did he find other ways around becoming so in order to still use the unicorn blood once Quirrell was destroyed?"

"No." Severus finally peered up at her, his pale forehead crinkling as his eyelashes fluttered and adjusted their direction. "The Dark Lord discovered the only known successful method of applying the blood without getting cursed, and without the use of a body."

"And what is that?"

"By mixing it with Nagini's venom."

It didn't sound illuminating to the professor, but to Hermione, this was new information. "What?"

"That's right. That redheaded, fickle friend of yours has Scabbers to thank for that."

"_Scabbers?_ You mean, Peter Pettigrew?"

"Indeed. You don't seriously believe that the Dark Lord could concoct such a successful feat on his own, and until recently, without the use of a body, do you?"

"How did he do it?" she breathed quietly, intrigued. "How does the combination of snake venom and unicorn blood offset the curse?"

Snape closed his book and laid both hands over the covering, giving her his undivided attention. "Unicorn blood is a substance of purity. Snake venom, as anyone could safely assume, is not. The materials contained within both counteract one another, just as plasma and poison work to opposite ends. One breathes life, the other destroys it. It's a rational combination of two variances of the same wavelength, and one that kept the Dark Lord alive until he could take his full form again. If he were cursed, the potion wouldn't have worked. Thus, it must have been successful if he survived on it for as long as he did."

_And because he told me so himself..._

"That was two years ago, and the Dark Lord is still very much alive and, word has it, gaining strength."

_'Word has it'?_ Hermione repeated in her head, thankful her thoughts were exclusive. _Perhaps _you_ have a better idea about _that_, Professor..._

If the capable wizard were reading her mind, then it was only a matter of seconds before she received confirmation. Luckily, none came, though his eyes darkened as they bore into hers.

"Then what do you need this for?" Hermione nodded to the book she had placed on his desk, which Snape promptly took into his hands. He stroked the spine, surveyed the worn covering thoughtfully, and handled it with tremendous care, an act Hermione found quite beautiful, if such a term could be applied to the man.

"Because I wish to understand the potion the Dark Lord created of his own design. I'm a Potions-maker; I would think that curiosity would be a given, Granger."

"_And_ it ties into your research regarding the anti-venom and these Horcruxes, too, in a roundabout way, when you consider it from all angles..."

There was a short pause in which neither one of them spoke. Instead, they simply regarded one another quietly; a silent understanding and perhaps even mutual respect passed between teacher and pupil, or so it would seem.

"Indeed," Snape murmured in agreement, placing the second book on his thigh. His expression was unreadable, but his response made Hermione smile warmly, regardless.

"How do you know that he developed this potion? I wasn't aware of such. Harry and I have only guessed at the continued use of unicorn blood after the destruction of Quirrell, but I don't think what you're describing is public knowledge..."

There was a lengthy pause before Snape answered; the silence grew almost uneasy to Hermione, who shifted her weight to the opposite leg and was about to break eye contact, when Snape replied very quietly, "I won't discuss that with you, Granger."

Hermione reacted. She couldn't help herself anymore. The never-ending curiosity in her propelled her forward, and she took a few steps closer until she was practically right in front of him. If she moved her left hand a mere inch or two, it would graze Snape's propped thigh.

"Your left arm..."

"Don't." His response was acute, but it was far too quiet; it was almost a weakened plea to Hermione's ears, and she ignored it.

"I saw you grab it the other night when we argued, before you suddenly disappeared..."

At this proximity, Hermione could see Snape's pupils dilating, and she detected a severe restraint washing over every inch of him. His skin was already pallid, but from this close, his complexion visibly whitened, as if he were depleting before her eyes. A year or two ago, she wouldn't have noticed any flicker of what lay behind the mask the professor wore. But it was just that: _a covering_.

Hermione hadn't realized until recently that the uncaring, unemotional exterior might all very well be an act, but now she knew for sure. She had been in Snape's company a great deal, and even if she had been standing further away, she would still have deciphered the subtle changes that swept over him in that moment.

"Professor," she whispered, and finally Snape blinked. She heard him inhale a sharp breath, as if he already knew what she was about to say before the words touched her lips. "I think you've been lying to me." She paused, waiting, but he said nothing. He didn't even flinch, so she continued with hushed, gentle urgency, "I think you're up to something, but I _do_ believe you when you tell me that my assumptions about you have been misplaced. I've been trying to figure it out ever since... I confess, I still haven't the slightest idea of what you're doing, but I can see that whatever it is, _you despise it_. Either that, or you just hate yourself. I think it's a combination of both, actually.

"I know you don't trust me; I daresay you have every right not to at this point, but I'd really like you to _try_, if you would? I think you're locking something away—many things, in fact—that you'd actually _like_ to disclose. Perhaps they're matters that concern me, things that I've been trying to find out from you since the very beginning. Maybe not. But either way, you could try to communicate with me. I know you won't believe a word of what I'm about to tell you, but _I _am_ trustworthy_. I know I am. I don't say that to convince you. I say it to, at the very least, make myself an option for you. I - I know you don't have many people to confide in, and you really should talk to _someone_."

It was Snape's turn to feel tripped up and astounded. A barrier that had been carried around with him collapsed—it's damage more prevalent than he imagined—and he privately berated himself for letting his guard down. Yet a deep part of him, somewhere in the middle of chest, buried beneath the surface, was grateful too...

In private, Snape had often willed himself not to care, to convince himself that he didn't need anyone, that he could bury every secret, every fact, every unspoken word and memory about himself if need be, and never tell a single soul, that he could find comfort in his everyday solitary confinement and go it alone till the bitter end. But those excuses were becoming worthless. Thanks, in part, to the very last person he ever imagined: _her_.

Snape was miserable and exhausted with being so uniformly alone and locked up inside himself. Having Hermione's regular company, even if they seemed to keep fighting one another, had stirred something inside him again:_ life_. It wasn't much, but he was clinging to it without being fully aware. Until now.

"Miss Granger," he uttered slowly in his rich, velvety voice as he placed the books on his desk and rose, looming over her, ever so close.

Hermione peered up at him without much sense of rationality anymore, only desperation to understand or, as Snape feared, to unravel him. He could feel her uneven breaths permeating his skin. Her scent was pleasant. It was quite comforting, even as his aggravated mind scorched him for his overpowering feelings of loneliness winning over his self-control.

Once his senses recouped, he continued, "You are my student and, therefore, cannot be expected to understand the complications of whom and what I am, nor should you. You don't want to know...

"When I say it is none of your business, _I mean it_. You are far too smart to allow your curiosity to cloud your judgment, unlike so many of your dimwitted peers. I - I will never trust you. I cannot. I trust no one, and I have my reasons. And regardless of what you think of me, Granger, _you_ shouldn't_ trust me_. I am unworthy of the scrutiny you have placed me under."

The rational part of Snape's brain—unlike the guarded emotional side he never revealed—was aware of just how dangerous this was getting. _Too dangerous._ His secrets—his life as a double agent, his true allegiance, the plans that were now very much in motion that couldn't be undone—were never far away, and he couldn't disclose them now, no matter how much he longed to confide in someone else. Not even her.

To confess her disappointment in the professor's response would be an understatement. Hermione inhaled, soaking in Snape's aroma, one her senses hadn't grasped before. Fresh pine, a mixture of the herbs and spices used in everyday Potion-making, a twinge of musk. Hermione was too mortified to admit that she rather _liked_ the man's smell, but her eyelashes fluttered at the inhalation of his intoxicating scent as it seeped into her lungs, filling them to capacity.

"Professor," she urged as delicately as she could, "I think you _are_ worthy of my interest. In all fairness, you presented that to me yourself when you placed those Dark Arts books in my hands. _You_ planted the intrigue. Don't deny it."

Snape was stumped and desperate to back away, but he couldn't seem to muster the will to move. Hermione Granger—that blasted know-it-all, unmatched by anyone else in her intellect, and now in her intuition—was slowly unfastening him bit by bit, and Snape had never felt more afraid.

"Did you really expect me not to dig deeper?" she pressed him quietly. "Did you really think I wouldn't look beyond the surface? I think that, in a very roundabout way, you are trying to communicate more to me than what you're letting on. It's a start, but I think you're finding this all very difficult, and I don't want you to. It doesn't have to be this way; you just don't know how. _Please, let me help you..._"

Her words were simple, surprisingly uncomplicated, and Snape could discern the brutal sincerity that echoed behind them. This was entirely foreign to him, however, and visibly so.

"I..." he staggered, feeling increasingly stupid as an exasperating blush trickled onto his cheeks, despite his attempts to stop it. He instantly bent his head so that his hair toppled forward to mask the blush.

Hermione was no fool and saw exactly what he was doing. _Yes, she pitied him_; not because he was a helpless soul or a nobody, but because the poor man found it so unbearably difficult to connect. Hermione suspected that he hadn't anticipated her genuine act of kindness, and that emotionally pained her more than she expected it to.

"It's all right," she murmured encouragingly, seeing the terrible conflict in his eyes.

Without considering the consequences of her actions, Hermione reached out and touched Snape's left arm, right where she sensed his Dark Mark would be etched into his skin. She could feel the restraints of his coat stiffen under her grasp, as well as his small attempt to shrink away from her.

Not only was he ill-equipped to emotionally connect with others, but his response confirmed what Hermione already dreaded: Severus Snape wasn't used to any form of physical contact. It was completely alien to him. She recalled how badly he had jumped back from her touch before. His timidity was almost sickening, in a melancholy sort of way. She couldn't imagine being so terribly imprisoned as to not know what it felt like to be touched or held, and she reacted with her heart, not her head.

"Please, don't pull away from me. It's all right. It - It's just my hand. I'm not trying to hurt you."

"Don't!" he abruptly snapped, jolting Hermione out of her sadness.

The fear on his face confirmed her own. She had given him a look of empathy and, in the process, brought up his walls again.

"Sir—"

"_Don't_," Snape repeated, but his voice didn't match the rare emotional display on his face; it wasn't anger, but injury and humiliation.

"It's all right, _really_. I didn't mean to—"

"Do - not - pity - me."

Hermione didn't know what to say. She _did_ pity him but, "It's not what you think," she blurted out.

Snape narrowed his eyes until they were almost slits. "I don't care what manner it's in, Granger. I don't ever want to see that look from you again, do you understand me? It's an insult."

"But—"

"_Don't_."

"Is this how you go about pushing people away?" Hermione protested, a burning sensation fueling the fire in the center of her being. She had lost sight a while ago of who she was addressing. She had seen a glimmer of the dark man's vulnerability, and that now placed him on a level she identified with, and thus, she wanted to see more. "Is this how you treat others who try to get close to you? Who try to befriend and understand you?"

_Befriend?_ Snape thought, utterly bewildered. _This must be one of my nightmares..._

He blinked and shook his head. "You forget yourself, Granger," he intoned with the most dangerous inflection he could, though it didn't deter his fiery student one bit.

"No, I haven't! I'm just trying to help you. I'm probably the only one who's ever dared! The first in a very long time, it would seem, judging by your reaction. You should seize this opportunity instead of slighting me and pushing me away."

"_What do you care?_" Severus exclaimed and threw up his hands, his cool, collected demeanor entirely gone. Hermione had never seen him quite so animated, and it nearly made her back down. "_Why are you so interested?_ What difference does any of this make to you?"

Hermione couldn't help herself. She pouted and brought her eyebrows together in a manner that made Snape think, horrified, that she might cry, but she didn't. There was no mistaking the slight, however, and, for once, it gave him pause.

"Are you really so incapable as to think _no one_ would want to help you? To know you? To want to be your friend? That's... I - I can't even rationalize that. Do you really think _me_ so heartless?"

"I— Miss Granger, I do not think you're heartless. I never said anything of the sort. If I implied that you were, it was unconsciously done."

It was probably as close to an apology as the professor would ever give, so Hermione willed herself to accept it. "Thank you." She paused, searching those consummate eyes for a time before speaking again. "Can you at least answer my question?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "And what was that?" He honestly could no longer recall, another rare lapse of control that upset him greatly, far more than the young woman knew.

"Look, I – I can't just let this go or deny what I saw. I want to believe you._ I really want to be wrong, Professor._ But your arm, and then abruptly disappearing like that... Where did you go? If you can't answer me or refuse to outright, I'll - I'll have no choice but to go to Dumbledore. This isn't something I can simply ignore."

The hiss that issued from Snape's mouth made Hermione shiver, despite her intentions to stand firm. "Dumbledore is traveling, Granger. Until term resumes, he is unavailable and out of your reach."

A sudden wave of panic overtook Hermione's composure. "Then I'll go to McGonagall."

_That_ brought Snape's level of confidence down several notches. _Goddamn her._

Snape quickly stiffened and curled his upper lip. "If you _must_ know, I went for a stroll around the castle, all right? I do so from time to time when I need to clear my head. Your words were pressing on me unnecessarily, which I won't ever allow to happen again, mind you, since I believe having my anger focused on you to be a waste of my energy, just as these sessions are turning out to be. I - I needed to get away from you!"

Snape watched the subtle movements within Hermione's caramel irises and braced himself for the worse. If the wretched girl didn't believe him and went to McGonagall, then he and Dumbledore were in for more than just an elaborate explanation or two.

McGonagall, at present, didn't trust him worth a damn. Now that the Mark had grown darker with Lord Voldemort's return, if Severus Snape so much as sneezed, it was questionable to every staff member within earshot. And now he had placed what little faith he possessed into a strand of sentences he hoped would deter the clever young Gryffindor from pressing any further.

"I see," Hermione professed, after the interlude of silence between them became practically unbearable. "And the Mark?"

"What about it?" snapped Snape.

"Well, it was clearly bothering you before, and quite out of the blue. Were you being summoned?"

Snape wanted to Disapparate then and there, but instead unleashed more of his mounting frustrations on her with a low growl. Hermione reared back a little but stood her ground.

"No, Granger. I can still feel the pangs of what having the Mark brings. I have told you before, I'm not what you think I am."

"I know that, Professor... I - I just want to help..."

Snape abruptly turned away from her, letting his hair disguise his profile from view, but Hermione could easily decipher how unnerved and uncomfortable he had grown. And yet, he hadn't asked that she remove her grasp on his arm, which still remained. She was about to try again, to reach out to him, but then Snape shot her down once more with a strained command.

"I want you to go."

"Sir, please—"

"_Please... Go._"

The finality of his demand closed their conversation for good. Hermione reluctantly tore her hand away from his arm but waited for Snape to, at the very least, look at her and dismiss her properly. But he just stood awkwardly, shifting his weight and staring firmly at the floor, determined not to meet her eyes. It was almost like being in the presence of a stubborn child.

"All right," she concluded, but added gently, "I'll leave you alone. But I'm not going to give up on you so easily."

Hermione quietly excused herself, and by the time Snape managed to glance her way, she was gone. The room fell silent, stifling and terribly confining to the sole individual who remained. He should have been used to it by now—it was, after all, his routine company—but his mind was screaming, too loud to take any comfort in his solitude.

_Why is this happening to me?_

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**A/N: Next chapter will show a little more progress, I think...**_  
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	13. Preparations

**A/N: I'm glad to hear so many of you liked the last chapter. It was a headache to write (from a technical aspect), but knowing it had such an impact is _very_ reassuring.  
**

**Also, to those who may be interested, I'm in the midst of archiving my stories on several other fanfic sites in case anything happens here, including Adult Fanfiction, AO3, Ashwinder, Granger Enchanted, The Petulant Poetess, and WIKTT Archives. All under the same pen name, CRMediaGal. It will take some time for everything to be posted at these locations, but links are being made available on my Profile so you know where to find them.  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

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**Chapter 13: Preparations**

Hermione didn't show up the following day. She figured if she took her chances, the professor would probably hex her into oblivion. They hadn't made any arrangements anyhow, so she turned over in bed and stared at the clock. Eight fifteen. Well, if Snape wanted her to make an appearance, he would have sent for her fifteen minutes ago.

_Was that wrong?_ Hermione pondered for the millionth time. Their conversation had kept her awake all night, and she couldn't help but wonder if it had affected Snape's ability to sleep, too. If it hadn't, she would admittedly feel a little spurned _and_ mortified. _I was just trying to help, for Merlin's sake. What a stubborn sod. Why can't I get through to him?_

Hermione yawned and closed her eyes, allowing the silence of her sanctuary to let her mind drift towards unconsciousness, for as long as sleep would allow. Crookshanks slept without issue near the foot of her bed, purring softly as he always did when within the company of his mistress.

Hermione was just nodding off when a loud and very familiar irritated snarl rang out right next to her ear. Hermione shot up in bed and instantly pressed herself against the headboard, terrified out of her wits. Crookshanks hissed loudly and leaped off the bed with his hair standing on end. Hermione's tired eyes took in the sight of something quite shocking, and even breathtaking: a Patronus in the form of a silver doe stood at the foot of her bed, and she was marvelous-looking.

The voice that echoed from her mouth, however, didn't match the beautiful Patronus floating in her bedroom. Stunned and affronted, Hermione's mouth fell open.

"_You're late, Granger!_ If you expect me to wait around for you to make an appearance at your leisure, you are far less intelligent than the observant, obedient student I took you for. You wanted more detention sessions, _you'll get them_, and you will show up promptly every morning. I suggest you make yourself presentable before I reach the Gryffindor common room in three."

With that, the doe bounced off of the walls before it leaped straight through the door of her dormitory and disappeared. Hermione's heart was pounding so hard against her chest she thought for sure it would burst.

_What the... Three minutes or three seconds?_

It didn't matter. Still half asleep, Hermione tumbled out of bed and scrambled around the empty room, not paying any mind to the clothing she tore from her drawers and threw over herself. A pair of worn jeans, a purple undershirt, and navy sweatshirt later, and her mismatched outfit was complete. She didn't even bother to check her unruly hair in the mirror, which she suspected was frizzing and in disarray. She slipped on a pair of brown boots that stopped at her calves and patted Crookshanks reassuringly; he was now perched near the door with a look of utmost effrontery at the Patronus that had disrupted his sleep.

"Be good, Crooks," she instructed breathlessly, and trudged out the door.

_Thank goodness it's Christmas break._

Hermione groaned as she made her way down the stairs to the common room, barely able to keep her eyes open. She was grateful not to run into anyone she knew today, considering her frazzled appearance.

Hermione was greeted by the elusive Potions Master standing near the entrance with his arms laced over his chest. His trim, dark figure reclined against the wall, leaning against the cold stone for support. He was practically as shaded as the shadows that surrounded him and easily untraceable at a fleeting glance.

"Good morning," he purred coolly.

Hermione let out a startled gasp. "Must you always sneak around like that?" she huffed.

"Nice of you to make an appearance, Granger."

"You kicked me out of your classroom yesterday, remember?"

Snape snorted. "Served you right. You ask too many questions and don't know when to cease."

The insult didn't hold its usual bite, however, and to Hermione, it almost sounded like light teasing. That didn't make a difference though; it still peeved her, regardless.

Snape drew away from the wall to stare her down properly, agitation now outlining his facial features. Though she still wasn't entirely coherent, Hermione could detect how perceivably drained he was. The usual dark circles underneath his eyes had grown increasingly more pronounced, offset by his washed out skin, and it all made him look rather sickly. She thought about asking after his health, but he didn't seem to care, and grunted before she could inquire.

"Come," he commanded.

"How did you get in here anyhow?"

"_What did I say, Granger?_"

Hermione scowled. "Don't ask questions."

"Very good."

Snape led her out the door and down several corridors. Hermione quickly realized that they were headed towards the D.A.D.A. classroom.

"You know, your Patronus was more than enough," she groused, panting in a failed effort to keep up with him. His strides were twice the length of her own. "You didn't need to come and fetch me yourself. I'm not a child."

"That's disputable."

Hermione mumbled something under her breath but wisely chose not to quarrel; at least, not for the time being. When they entered the familiar darkened classroom, Hermione was surprised to find all the desks and chairs had been pushed aside.

As her mind finally began to awaken, an audible moan escaped her mouth. "Oh, Merlin, not now..."

Snape swished his black robes around to face her. "I'm not at all interested in practicing nonverbals on you this morning, Granger. I daresay your attempts would be pitiful and a terrible waste of both our energies, seeing as you're so lethargic at the moment."

His brisk tone jolted Hermione awake, deepening the frown on her pink lips. "It's good to know I have your confidence, sir."

Snape surprised her further with a faint smirk. "Watch it, Granger. I'd hate for you to suffer my displeasure."

He whipped his head around and stalked to his desk, leaving Hermione enough space between them to mumble, "I already am."

"I take it Potter has already acquainted you with the practice of Occlumency?"

Hermione's mind had momentarily drifted, and the question had not reached her ears. "I'm sorry?"

"_Occlumency._" Snape laid a firm hand on his hip and leaned the other onto his desk, visibly agitated and a bit fatigued as well. "Would you like some coffee, Granger? If it's the only way for me to get you to focus, then I suggest you have some before we begin. I warn you, you are in for a very rough session with me. Several, in fact."

Hermione eyed Snape tentatively. "Am I being punished, Professor?"

"Depends on your point of view."

"No more charades, please."

Hermione rubbed her hands over her eyes. Thankfully, Snape didn't see fit to argue further and pulled out his wand. With a poised flick of the wrist, he summoned a coffee pot and two mugs from his office upstairs. After uttering a warming charm, he glanced at his tired student, his face no longer bearing the animosity from before.

"How do you take your coffee?"

"Cream and sugar, please. Vanilla or hazelnut, if you have it."

Snape nodded and Hermione slunk over to his desk, nearly collapsing into the chair he summoned for her. A cup of vanilla cream and a bowl of sugar cubes emerged at her request. Hermione hesitated before taking anything, instead waiting for Snape to situate himself in his chair first. As rude as the wizard could be, she didn't want to be _entirely_ impolite and ill-mannered herself.

Once Hermione had her coffee fixed to her liking, she glanced over at Snape, who was pouring himself a cup with a graceful wave of his hand before summoning it into his possession. His wand had disappeared. He leaned back in his chair and took no notice of her as he brought the mug to his lips.

"Oh, Merlin... How very stereotypical of you." Hermione laughed softly, and didn't drop her amused gaze at receiving his fierce eyes, which looked slightly offended.

"Excuse me?"

"_Black coffee?_ You couldn't be more of a cliché if you actually put forth the effort."

It took Snape a moment to gather that her taunt was friendly, not abrasive, and he retorted in a manner that was not of his usual edginess. "I like the taste."

His eyes followed hers over the top of his mug as he finally took a sip. Hermione could detect the essence of a small smile lurking behind his mug, and her grin broadened.

"I'm not surprised. Bitter, acidic, and altogether terribly unpleasant; I must admit, it suits you."

"Are you always so gentle in your observations of others?"

"Naturally."

"I trust that this is your subtle way of slighting me."

"Not at all. I was merely being vigilant."

"I see." Snape nodded towards the hot cup in her hands. "Meanwhile, half of your cup isn't even coffee. You might as well down a glass of pure sugar instead."

"Oh, rubbish. At least it has a sweetened flavor instead of that ghastly, sharp aftertaste."

"Suit yourself, but it's very unhealthy."

Hermione cocked her curly head to one side, giving him a wry smile. "Are you inquiring after my health, Professor?"

"Not at all. You should know by now, Granger, that I don't give a damn."

"About anyone?"

"Mmm."

Hermione wasn't entirely sure if Snape was still being cheeky or serious, but his altering moods were becoming slightly easier to read, if not more confounding. He was still just as mysterious and unpredictable to her as ever. Regardless, she played along.

"So no plans for Christmas then?"

Snape snorted behind his cup. "What are you on about now, Granger?"

"Well, it's nearly here. I was just curious—"

"If I've had a miraculous change of heart?"

"Not exactly. That would be too out of character for you. It's just that I've never been at Hogwarts over the holidays before. Is there anything special that goes on here besides the annual staff Christmas party?"

Snape raised a curious eyebrow. "No. Why? Would you prefer to spend the holiday in the company of a bunch of tired, dried up old witches and wizards rather than your lively redheaded clan?"

Hermione detected the curiosity that lay behind his remark, something a less observant student would have never picked up on. It heightened her intrigue.

"Not particularly, no, but Hogwarts is so beautiful this time of year; seems a shame that no one here seems to take much pride or appreciation in it..."

Snape grunted, giving her a disagreeable sneer. "Many do. And not everyone shares your obsession with an overzealous, superficial holiday that doesn't even touch upon what it was originally intended for, Granger."

At this, Hermione gave a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Like you."

"Indeed, but it would seem to me that a holiday that focuses on purchasing expensive gifts, spending countless amounts of money, and attempting to spoil others with as many superficial items as possible isn't something worth celebrating."

"How do you _really_ feel?" she teased, still giving him her humored simper.

"I gather you already know."

"Have you always hated Christmas so much?"

"As long as I can remember."

Hermione surveyed Snape anew, remembering the black and white photograph of his mother that hung in his office. "Even when you were a child?"

Snape took a moment to fidget with a few of the attractive buttons on his coat, which Hermione took as a testament to his uneasiness with the subject. _He really_ does _hate to discuss anything that borders on the personal..._ Her eyes, however, were momentarily distracted by those buttons.

"Christmas isn't a happy occasion in every household, Granger."

His reply was muffled and strained. Hermione, about to take another sip of her coffee, stopped and held the cup to her mouth, staring hard, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Did your mother do anything special for the holidays?"

The muscles in Snape's jaw tightened, and she was even more shocked that he actually answered her question. "No. My parents didn't see the value in the superficiality of it, nor do I."

"Oh." Hermione retracted, sensing his finality on conversing any further on the subject. "Well, I think that's a shame. There are aspects of Christmas that aren't so bad, you know. Have you ever been to a midnight mass on Christmas Eve?"

"Yes." He looked away from her; Hermione had no idea why, but his sober reaction caused her to put down her mug. "You mean to tell me you don't find it beautiful?" Snape met her gaze again without expression. "Even for not being sure about what I believe, there is something wonderfully mystical—_powerful_, really—in a Christmas Eve mass. Perhaps it's all hogwash and just in my head, but I can't explain it. I suppose some churches can screw it up, but I've gone to mass with my parents every Christmas since I was a little girl, and I have yet to find one that's done it any sort of injustice."

"I take it you will be going with the Weasleys then this year?"

Hermione shuffled her feet and peered down at her near empty coffee cup. "Erm, no, the Weasleys won't be going. They don't go to Christmas mass. I doubt Harry would come either; it's not his sort of thing. I've thought about going by myself, actually. It's one of my favorite things to do at Christmas, so I'd hate to skip out on it just because no one's available."

"That's unfortunate."

Hermione suspected that he probably didn't care but grinned anyway. "It's all right. You really should go to one, Professor; um, I mean, if you don't have plans, that is. The music is really beautiful, and the atmosphere is just... Well, there's nothing quite like it."

Snape didn't say anything, but he watched her intently for a long while, surveying the contours of her many curls—a fair chestnut hue with elements of gold peeking through the various strands—and the soft, delicate outline of her mouth. When she smiled, everything about her was warm, pleasant...

Snape couldn't quite believe that he was finding her presence easier to stomach, especially since he had woken up this morning with the intent of making her day a miserable one. Their talk—simple and cordial—was probably the easiest he had managed in a long time. He wasn't use to conversing much at all, and especially not with one of his students, but he willed himself to partake in it, just a little, and rather liked this alteration to his daily routine.

"I will do no such thing, Granger, but I thank you for the tip."

Hermione stifled a laugh, knowing he didn't mean a word of his gratitude. "I figured as much."

She placed her cup on his desk and observed the brooding, stark man across from her. She was most surprised by the seemingly agreeable conversation they were having, if it even counted as a proper exchange, and wasn't about to let up while the professor wasn't hounding or pressing her in one of his god awful moods.

"So, what other clichés do you carry around with you?"

Snape's brow furrowed. "Pardon?"

"You know what I mean."

Snape brought one leg over the other and placed his hot mug carefully onto his thigh. "On the contrary, I don't have the slightest comprehension of what you're talking about."

"Oh, very well. I'm not interested in your mind games this morning." Hermione sighed and scanned their surroundings. "Then can you at least tell me what this is all about?"

At this, Snape smirked. "Nice to know I have you back on track. As I was trying to inquire earlier, Granger, how familiar are you with the practices of Occlumency and Legilimency? Surely, Potter must have whined to you incessantly last year about how bitterly unfair I was to him. Regrettably, our tedious lessons led to nothing. Potter proved an utter failure at Occlumency, and I daresay the Dark Lord will come to understand their shared connection in greater terms before too long."

Hermione startled in her chair, suddenly alert. "_Sir!_" she breathed, thinking on her good friend with alarm.

"Relax, Granger. There's no need to throw a fit. Potter should be fine. We both know that mind penetration will be the least of his worries soon enough. So what do you know about Occlumency and Legilimency?"

"Um, enough from Harry and books I've read, but what does any of that have to do with me?"

"I'd like you to learn how to use them properly."

"Huh? Why?"

"If you prove yourself proficient, you will find them extremely useful." When she continued to stare at him, confused, he grumbled and leaned forward. "You are a liability, Granger, as is that useless third wheel of yours, Weasley. The Dark Lord and his followers see you both as a means to an end. You're closest to Potter and, therefore, the most at risk. I should have started these lessons long ago—"

"Well, what about Ron?"

Snape let out a frustrating snarl. "I tried unsuccessfully to teach Weasley while he served detentions with me, and, not surprisingly, he proved entirely useless; a failure. Worse than Potter, and I didn't think that possible. How your friend has managed to keep himself alive this long is a true wonder."

_Ron never told me that_, Hermione thought to herself. _No wonder he's been griping about Snape so much._

Hermione couldn't help but curl her lips upward. "He's not so bad, Professor. He's helped Harry and me on more than one occasion."

Snape growled again, making his harsh opinion of her friend visibly clear. "I find that hard to believe. And even if he did, it probably had more to do with luck and whim than skill. He's severely lacking, Granger, make no mistake. I wouldn't rely on Weasley to help me out of a dire situation if my life depended on it, and I daresay you and Potter shouldn't either."

That was a little surprising to Hermione to hear, and she wasn't entirely convinced that Snape was correct on that point, but she shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sorry you feel he is so inadequate. I've seen him in action though. I wouldn't necessarily stake my life on his abilities, but Ron's a standup guy."

Snape simply shook his head but didn't comment further, which Hermione was privately grateful for. She knew Snape had a point, but Ron was still her friend. At least, she hoped...

"Your Patronus," Hermione brought up to distract her thoughts, "is a doe?"

Snape flinched in his chair, but the act was so subtle Hermione almost missed it entirely. "Yes," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Is there some significance there?"

Snape looked away, staring into his coffee cup with a frown. "Not particularly, no..."

"Oh." Hermione studied his withdrawn expression closely, confused. "Well, I wasn't expecting that to be the form yours would take. It's really beautiful," she paused, "except when it shouts in your voice."

Snape peered up and locked eyes with her. "I guess it wouldn't be." He wanted to be upset, and a part of him was a little sour over the subject the young lady had unearthed, but her amiable smile was somewhat of a distraction from his heavy thoughts. "What did you think my Patronus was?"

"Pardon?"

"Come now, Miss Granger," Snape's lips weaved into a rather provocative smirk, "surely you can share your theories with me. After all, you brought it up."

He could see the flush of color that formed on her cheeks. "Oh, um, well..."

"Yes?" he prodded.

Hermione's cheeks turned a brighter shade of red, and there was a drawn out silence before she replied, "I thought maybe it was a bat."

Snape instantly frowned and gave a dramatic eye roll. "How disappointing. I thought at least _your_ answer might be better than what everyone else has assumed."

Hermione giggled, feeling a little humiliated. "Well, I figured it had to be _something_ black. I thought maybe a cat even, or perhaps a raven?"

"And that's apparently the second most popular assumption." Snape sighed, and shook his head. "I had higher expectations of you, Granger."

"Oh, rubbish. Can you blame me or anyone else for thinking so? Like I said: you're a walking cliché."

Snape let out a low hiss that broadened Hermione's smile. It wasn't angry or mean-spirited, but there was something curious about how his eyes shifted, almost as if the topic she had brought up about his Patronus was a painful matter to discuss. Hermione decided not to push further. It would only aggravate his already touchy mood swings, and the conversation had been going surprisingly well to that point.

After finishing the last of his coffee, Snape set to work teaching Hermione Occlumency and Legilimency for the remainder of what turned into a very long, grueling morning. He situated Hermione in the middle of the room, and after a brief, terse explanation on how the practice of each worked, Snape whipped out his wand and unleashed her most deeply private and unhappy thoughts; Hermione wasn't ready or prepared for any of it. _Not at all_.

The first hour or so was debilitating enough. She didn't anticipate the images the professor would penetrate, uncover, and come to know in rather explicit detail, and each time he drew out of her mind, she felt increasingly nauseous and self-conscious. Snape himself hadn't expected what he uncovered either, but made a point of not letting her see his reactions.

_Hermione crying in the bathroom over her own self-worth... Sobbing in the bathroom over her lack of friends, loneliness, and inability to fit in during her first year... Rocking back and forth on her bed as she silently belittled herself to sleep; not smart enough, not pretty enough, not good enough for Ron, or any young man... How unassured she was anytime she was in her good friend's presence this term..._

Hermione hadn't realized just how mentally weak she was until she was forced to rehash it repeatedly. The images conjured up were relentless, never ending, to the point that Hermione was ready to cry out in protest. To think that Severus Snape was witnessing them all, too, made her feel so much worse.

_Oh, so much worse... Oh, so weak..._

The awkward silences that followed each attempt to block Snape's penetration didn't make her feel any better. Hermione could tell how difficult the dark wizard was finding it to look at her every time he withdrew. He would grunt or divert any sort of commentary about what he had witnessed and simply encourage her to try again.

By the end of the morning, Hermione was beyond desperate to get out of the stifling confinements of the classroom, to get some proper breathing space; to disappear from the professor's company in light of one of the rawest moments of mortification she had ever experienced in her short life.

Sensing Hermione's increasing displeasure, and not really wanting to delve any further himself, Snape placed his wand into his robes after glancing at the clock. "That will be all for now, Granger. I trust you need a break."

"Yes... Please..."

In the course of the lesson, Hermione had fallen to the floor, and never got back up. She drew up onto her knees to rise when she found Snape's large hand extended in front of her face. She glanced up, finding a gentler demeanor in Snape's eyes and the lines that formed around his mouth than she had ever seen before.

Hermione hitched a breath and took his small token of unexpected kindness, surprised by the warmth and wear of his hand as he brought her to her feet. They were calloused from years of slicing, meddling, brewing, and boiling, but despite that, they were quite _gentle_, and so different from Ron's or Harry's...

Then the contact abruptly ended. Snape adjusted his buttons and darted his eyes again rather gracelessly. Hermione couldn't help it. It was ridiculously endearing how unequivocally inept he was when he was genuinely out of his depths, which seemed to be quite often around her, though she had no idea why.

"Perhaps you should get some fresh air," he suggested quietly.

Hermione was relieved for the suggestion and momentarily forgot about her worst insecurities that the wizard had seen, perhaps because she was already privy to a select few of his own, and found the connection an encouraging one. "I think some fresh air is a good idea, sir. Thank you."

Snape nodded and as she turned to leave, she heard him whisper rather encouragingly, "Please take your time."

Hermione paused, struck by the sincerity in his voice that she had never really heard before either. She exited quickly and made her way down to the front doors of the castle, stumbling into the winter cold without realizing she had no coat to keep warm. Hoping the frigid air might clear her head and bring her back to some level of gravity, Hermione waited, and tried not to cry as the unpleasant images nosedived on her consciousness all over again.

* * *

Severus slunk against the outer stone wall and inhaled the cigarette laced between his fingers, allowing the tangy flavor to charge his lungs before exhaling long and hard, watching as the billowing smoke floated into the December breeze and disappeared. He wasn't aware that his hands were clammy or that the cigarette wasn't calming his nerves much at all. Its ingredients contained many of his own personal additives, and he often sought refuge outside this part of the castle or another even more inconspicuous spot, knowing not too many dunderheads or staff members would disturb him here.

_She's harder on herself than I fathomed_, he reflected, sucking what little licorice additive remained in his half consumed cigarette. _I knew her striving to be the best was plagued by fears of failure, and probably childhood bullying, but her ridiculously poor self-image?_

The memory of Hermione staring at herself in the mirror with an expression of complete revulsion—a look Severus was all too familiar with—came flooding back to him in tidal waves. He knew young ladies her age were prone to criticizing their bodies. Even _he_ had been a teenager at one time, after all. But Severus had also given up on improving his own appearance when he was still a mere boy, so he hardly felt well-acquainted with Hermione's yearning for beauty and sex appeal; but he could certainly appreciate her self-loathing, only he hadn't expected it of her.

_Why the hell would she think like that? Who on earth would have given her such a misguided impression of herself? Her parents?_ Even without knowing them, Severus had little suspicion for either of them. _Potter? He's a dunce and completely unobservant most of the time, but he wouldn't be capable of that kind of cruelty._ Then he remembered her questioning her appearance in one particular memory about Ron, and before Severus had even begun analyzing Hermione's situation, his quick mind had already surmised the very person he believed to be the cause of all her inhibitions: _Weasley. Damn him_.

Severus snarled aloud and took another drag, letting his mind wander. The Dark Lord was expecting Severus to gain Hermione's trust; at the same time, so was Dumbledore. Severus couldn't bring himself to reflect on _that_ situation for too long. It only infuriated him and made him want to tear at his face for what he was doing; _for everything_ he was doing...

'For the greater good,' Dumbledore kept reminding him. The words made Severus growl into the cold air.

_To hell with the 'greater good'! What about me? What about my soul? My conscience? Me?_ He stared out at the fallen snow, his eyes suddenly empty, and his thoughts very far away. _Lily... What more can I do?_

Severus hadn't heard the treading of crunching footsteps coming his way, despite his unnaturally swift reflexes, and when he finally sensed he wasn't alone, he startled—extracting his wand immediately from his coat pocket—and prepared to strike. He was met with a stunned Hermione, who visibly shook and rattled backwards, unaware of the presence of the dark wizard perched against the wall.

"Granger?" Severus eyed her suspiciously, taking in her outline. He lowered his wand.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't see you there. I didn't think you'd be out here, or _here_, rather."

Severus hesitated, surveying her for a long moment before he finally withdrew his wand back into his robes. "Yes, well, I suppose I was in need of some fresh air myself."

"I see..." Her curious irises spotted the lit cigarette in Severus's hand and she arched an eyebrow, frowning. "You smoke?"

Severus's dark eyes flickered, either angrily or amusedly, but she couldn't decide which. "Does that displease you?"

"A little," she confessed and scrunched up her nose with a freshly humorous grin. "In all honesty, and with all due respect, it's kind of disgusting. And it reeks."

Snape didn't counter her with a snide remark, which she found remarkable, until he proceeded to take a very long drag, staring her down all the while, even as he blew the contents out into the air that they shared. He was purposely trying to coax another disapproving reaction, she suspected, and Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"I'm sorry you disapprove," he then replied. To her surprise, he flung the cigarette into the snow and stomped it out with his boot.

Hermione stifled a laugh. "I was just giving you a hard time. You didn't have to do that for my benefit."

"Oh, believe me, I didn't."

"Ahhh, of course not. That would be far too chivalrous of you."

Snape whisked a few straggly hairs away from his face and searched her lack of proper outerwear with an extended grimace, ignoring her retort. "What on earth are you doing out here without a coat, Granger? Do you have a death wish, or are you always this careless?"

It dawned on Hermione only then that she had not just been circling the grounds for almost an hour, but was convulsing uncontrollably and clinging to herself for any ounce of warmth her own body might provide. Despite the cold, her cheeks began to glow.

"_Careless_, I would imagine," she replied lightly, giving him a feeble attempt at a smile; she really _was_ cold.

Snape mumbled something she didn't catch and came charging at her. Hermione tried to step back but suddenly found herself wrapped in Snape's heavy wool coat. Black, soft, and smelling of spices, herbs and a touch of his flavored tobacco, Hermione welcomed it gladly, taking additional comfort in the warmth it already provided on account of the man's own body heat.

"Thank you, sir," she replied gratefully and brought the coat more securely around her petite frame.

Their eyes met for the briefest moment before Snape returned to where he had been standing, creating a large gap between them again. "You shouldn't lose track of yourself in this ungodly weather, Granger," he reprimanded quietly.

"I didn't lose track. I was just, erm, lost in my thoughts."

"Indeed."

A short pause later, she asked, "So how long have you been a smoker?"

Snape's eyebrows came together. "Does my partaking in rolled tobacco leaves unhinge you _that_ greatly?"

"Sorry, no; that came out wrong. I've just never seen you smoke before, that's all."

_Another mystery_, she reflected, more intrigued by the wizard than she knew she ought to be.

Snape smirked and looked away towards the Forbidden Forest, and at the high, snow-covered trees and white mountain tops in the distance. "It is one of the few substances that helps me relax," he answered in a slow purr.

"What's in it?"

Snape eyed her questionably. "Why?"

"Um, well..." She sheepishly darted her eyes away from his and stared at the untainted snow surrounding her.

Without much hesitation or a word, Snape dug deep into his coat pockets and withdrew two cigarettes. He twirled one of them around his long, bony fingers, as if contemplating whether or not his next move was too careless, before tossing it to her.

"Oh!" she staggered, blushing a little as she caught the stick in her hand.

"Changed your mind?"

There was a dark amusement glimmering behind his eyes, and the hint of a cracked half smile emerging at the edge of his lips. The peculiar sight only made her temptation worse, and after a moment, Hermione gave up.

"Oh, to hell with it." She waltzed over to him, both resigned and feeling a little bolder. "Got a light, Professor?"

Snape took out a silver Zippo from his pocket and lit hers first. Hermione had never smoked before, but if it helped the professor relax, as he so claimed, and if he was willing to share, she would seize the opportunity. She could use with some calming down after her unsettling thoughts from earlier.

"Oh... Wow..." she breathed heavily after her first puff. She could already feel the effects working their way through her blood stream; her nerves immediately began to simmer and unwind. _It was wonderful_.

Snape studied her reaction with interest. "That would be ingredients from the strong Calming Draught I added."

"Yes, it is strong." Hermione sighed, looking far more content than earlier. "I like it."

"As do I."

"Wait... Is that licorice I'm tasting?" She turned her head and gave him an incredulous look, which he returned with heightened curiosity.

"What?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake. Is it _black_ licorice? _Seriously?_" Snape turned his head away from her to keep from smiling outright. "You really _are_ a walking cliché."

"Aren't I supposed to live up to my dreary reputation?"

"Well, not to the tenth degree, no. I think people get it."

Snape shrugged, pausing to take another puff. "Well, it seems to be my role," he stated nonchalantly.

Hermione cocked her head and inspected his solemn, yet rather handsome, profile. He wasn't handsome in the conventional sense, but he was actually relatively attractive. Maybe it was all the elements of his personality and character she was glimpsing now that she wasn't privy to before, but Hermione's opinion of the Potions Master wasn't the same as it had once been. In fact, she concluded as she looked him over in that moment, he wasn't unsightly at all.

Hermione couldn't tell if he was kidding or not about his remark, a reality that was becoming increasingly frustrating, and a twinge of guilt knotted in her stomach. "That's not what I meant."

"I know."

Sensing that Snape wasn't going to address her again until he was ready, Hermione inhaled a few more brief wafts of the flavored tobacco, trying to configure what else the professor had laced it with to give it its own particular effects. Finally, she asked, "So what other additives are in this?"

Snape returned her question in a seemingly bored fashion. "Purple thorn blossom, salamander blood, and pomegranate juice."

"Salamander blood?" Her nose scrunched up. "Lovely."

Snape snorted. "You can't taste it, can you?"

"No… So elements of the Strengthening Solution then?"

"Correct."

_Calming, yet reinforcing. Clever._

Hermione smiled but soon felt like an idiot. After taking another puff, she suddenly hacked violently, unaccustomed to the taste and what she was doing. Despite the interruption, she still caught the flicker of amusement in Snape's reaction.

"It's not meant to be sucked on like a straw, Granger."

Hermione answered testily, still coughing, "Yeah, I figured that out, but thank you!"

Once she recouped, she noted that Snape was still smirking at her rather contentedly, and it was one of the few bona fide smiles Hermione had ever witnessed from the Slytherin Head of House. Instantly, she found herself attracted to his peculiar, small simper, much like a moth drawn to a flame.

"I - I don't normally do this sort of thing."

"What? Smoke with one of your professors? One who willingly hands you a cigarette? I shouldn't have."

"I quite agree, but I don't think you really care either way. Actually, I consider that a grave transgression and really unprofessional of you. You're a very poor influence, you know."

"In that case, I would appreciate your discretion in _not_ informing your Head of House." Hermione nodded reassuringly in her kindhearted way, observing Snape as he turned his attention away from her to take another drag, before grumbling softer than she expected, "She hates me enough as it is; no need for her to know I'm corrupting her most prized Gryffindor."

This time, Hermione snorted. "She probably wouldn't believe me if I told her. I'm too much of a 'good girl' and a 'model of academic behavior' to be caught doing something like this."

"You are hardly a role model for good behavior, Granger."

"Huh? What's_ that_ supposed to mean?"

Snape glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a rare, wry smile on his lips almost instigating her to guess, but then he answered. "You think I'm not aware that it was _you_ who brewed Polyjuice Potion in your second year with contents from _my_ personal storage supplies?"

Hermione proceeded to have another coughing fit. Once she recovered, she found Snape giving her a deliciously triumphant look, one she wouldn't forget anytime soon. It made her entire face beet red.

"I, erm, I don't know what you're talking about."

Snape grunted, almost like a half laugh, and shook his midnight tresses. "You think I haven't known, Granger, that it was _you_ who stole from my personal stores, not Potter? You _must_ think me a real dunce."

"Not at all," Hermione replied, rather too hastily.

"And do you think I don't know that it was you who set my robes on fire at the Quidditch match in your first year?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "_What?_"

"Ahhh, yes." Snape's raven eyes glistened with delight. "Don't look so surprised."

"How the... How the hell did you figure that out?"

"I keep an eye on you, Granger."

"_Oh?_"

He shrugged, nonchalant. "I'm a suspicious person by nature. I watch everyone."

"I— Well, you— Oh, all right, fine! It _was_ me, but I swear it was because—"

Snape waved his hand dismissively. "Don't bother."

Hermione pouted, unable to decide how to take that remark, and resorted to apologizing, as was her nature. "I'm sorry, sir."

"No, you're not, Granger. Don't apologize for something when you don't mean it."

The regard he gave wasn't at all harsh, and the trace of a smile was still etched across his cheeks. It allowed Hermione's shoulders to relax ever so slightly. He wasn't angry, and that was a relief.

"Very well, then. I won't."

After a few minutes in which there was nothing but the wind to break the silence between them, both finished their cigarettes and faced each other head on. It wasn't an entirely comfortable situation, but something in the atmosphere had shifted. _Perhaps it was the calm-inducing cigarette, or maybe_, Hermione chanced, _it was something else._ The extreme awkwardness from past close encounters was gone, lifted away with the winter gust.

"I suppose we should get back to work?" Hermione encouraged, trying to read his face, now relatively placid and gentle.

"No," Snape whispered back, catching her off guard. "I think I've put you through enough for one day. It's Christmas Eve tomorrow, Granger. Go to the Burrow; relax and enjoy your holiday."

Hermione was quietly disappointed in his dismissal, but was also heartened by the unnatural tenderness she detected in his voice. Her brown eyelashes fluttered, her gaze locked on his for another moment or two—she wasn't certain how long, really—before he surprised her once more.

Extending his arm to her silently, Snape broke eye contact to properly escort her back to the warmer confines of Hogwarts castle. No one had ever taken her arm before, and Hermione felt suddenly very insecure and bashful as she allowed the professor to lead her away from this remote spot.

_What a surprise_, she mused, as a comical look drew along her mouth.

Hermione, however, wasn't aware of the lonely thoughts triggering Snape's mind beside her. Unlike the Gryffindor on his arm, he had no plans for Christmas; he never did. But the desperately unhappy thoughts always returned for him this time of year, and for once, Snape detested the forsaken reality that he would once again be alone for the holiday, without anyone for company, not even her.

No matter how much work there was to do, the desolation would eat at him for sure while she was away. Snape's conscious wondered if the bright, young lady on his arm might be thinking the same but quickly shot the idea down as soon as it entered his mind. Once again, he resigned himself as a fool.

_She has an actual life, Severus, friends and family who care about her, and a social life that you'll never, ever understand or possibly be a part of, so don't even think on it. You shouldn't. You're alone. And you'll always be alone. Always..._

* * *

**A/N #2: Hmm, progress? I'd say so, considering it's _these two_... ;)  
**


	14. A Lioness Makes Her Move

**A/N: Interesting mixture of responses about the smoking. While I really hate to make this a long-winded A/N, because I despise those kind of things myself (my apologies to all the readers who don't care about what I'm addressing), I do feel inclined to let readers who _are_ bothered by it know that I will _not_ be changing that aspect to this story for the simple fact that - _as the writer _ - I don't share that opinion, or obviously I wouldn't have written it. If that disappoints any of you, well, I really can't (_and won't_) apologize for having a different take on these characters than you, which is something we are all entitled to have. There are _plenty_ of great Snape _and_ SSHG fanfics out there, many of which are on FFN, that illustrate Snape as a smoker, and much more so than he'll ever be in _my_ fanfic, which, by the way, _is only for a few chapters_. I suggest you read some of them, because it might give you a better idea as to where writers and readers like myself who _can_ visualize it are coming from.  
**

**You will find out in the next chapter that 1). _they aren't Muggle cigarettes_. I'd like to think the wizarding world would be much more advanced than us in creating healthy, risk-free alternatives while still allowing wizards to partake in certain things Muggles enjoy, especially if, like Snape, they grew up in the Muggle world and might actually still follow that way of life in certain respects, whatever they may be. 2). _As mentioned above, there will be more smoking for a few chapters yet until Severus kicks the habit._ **

**Yes, I just gave that all away to you up front, but considering the smoking element is _not at all_ a major factor in this story, I don't think knowing these really minor revelations beforehand should rattle anyone too much. I won't be giving things away in the future; however, if some of you are going to be so quick to jump down my throat before things - whether big or small - are revealed, then I should be allowed to, at the very least, defend my own point of view, just as some of you have given yours.  
**

**If this miniscule aspect to my story bugs you so much that you simply can't sift through it, then I'd strongly suggest you stop here and move on to something else. If you can see past it to the actual storyline and various plot elements I'm working with, then, by all means, continue. If you do keep reading, however, you _have_ been forewarned from me upfront about expecting more of this_. _While I certainly don't like to discourage anyone from reading my work, I also don't appease people simply because they disagree or see these characters "a certain way" that doesn't match my own. That's not the kind of writer I am, so if that's what you're hoping for, or if you're out to dissuade me from writing something because it doesn't match your own personal take on Rowling's world, then you probably_ should_ move on to something else. It would seem to me like a very mute point to continue reading something you don't enjoy._  
_**

**My apologies for the long A/N, but it was warranted on my end. I thank all the readers who have taken this journey with me and see fit to ride it through with me, because there is _a lot_ more to come!  
**

**Lastly, to any of those who are curious about Hermione's religious background in my story, see my additional notes at the end.**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 14: A Lioness Makes Her Move**

Hermione had packed up a few of her belongings into an overnight bag—one that was small and charmed to allow her to fit everything with ease—and reluctantly made her way out of the deserted common room the following morning with Crookshanks in tow. Her sour expression matched the thoughts that had been turning over in her head for the past twenty-four hours.

What would Professor Snape be doing this evening, or tomorrow for that matter? _Nothing, of course_, her mind kept confirming with a finality she despised.

The more Hermione reflected on that reality, the more upset she grew. She swiftly decided she would at least extend the offer that had been lingering in the back of her mind ever since they parted ways after her Occlumency lesson, and made a detour to the D.A.D.A. classroom, taking her time to figure out how best to approach him. Hermione hoped she would find him in a relatively pleasant mood today.

_This is mad! He'll surely say no and think I've completely lost my mind. Well, at least I'm extending the invitation to him out of kindness, right?_ Hermione abruptly ceased walking, standing in the middle of an abandoned corridor with a dumbfounded look that nobody saw. _Merlin, Hermione... You're asking to spend Christmas Eve with Professor Snape?_ She scrunched up her nose disapprovingly. _What the hell's happened to me? I _must_ be out of my mind..._

As Hermione entered the abandoned classroom, she caught a trickle of light coming from underneath Snape's office door and sauntered up the stone steps. She wasn't nervous, which seemed rather odd, even to her, but then Hermione wasn't nearly as skittish around the Potions Master anymore. Spending the last several weeks in the man's company, and for extended lengths of time at that, had humanized Professor Snape in a way that Hermione continued to gravitate towards. She followed that curious intuition willingly, even if her conscious was still fighting her every step of the way.

Hermione knocked on the door before entering without waiting to be addressed; her first mistake. She was so accustomed to visiting now that she had nearly forgotten proper protocol. Hermione jolted at the sight of Snape's wand pointed at her face, and the dangerous gleam lingering in those familiar black eyes immediately set her on edge.

"_Granger!_" he snarled, visibly irritated and perturbed by the intrusion.

"Oh! So sorry, Professor. I - I didn't mean to startle you."

Situated at his desk with a handful of books scattered all around him, Snape lowered his arm that held his wand and sighed, falling back into his chair in an attempt to recollect his wits. "You didn't startle me," he growled, which she knew to be false. "Don't ever barge into my office like that again, do you understand me?"

_I could have killed you, you foolish girl!_

"Yes, sir," Hermione replied timidly, chancing another step into Snape's office and shutting the door behind her as delicately as possible.

"What do you want?"

Snape fumbled with several pieces of parchment on his desk and ran his elegant fingers through his tussled hair. She could tell he was distracted—a bit of a disadvantage for her—and that this unannounced visit had put him in a testy mood.

"Well, I came to inquire as to whether or not you had plans this evening?"

Snape's eyes locked on her with overt confusion. "What?"

Hermione intertwined her fingers together and stepped forward, keeping her demeanor as casual as possible and her warm smile enforced. "I thought perhaps you might care to join me for midnight mass? I usually attend the church my parents have always taken me to, but seeing as I won't be spending Christmas with them this year, I did some research on a few church services near the Burrow. If - If you're interested, then I could run them by you to see if you have any particular preference? I don't really mind, to be honest."

Hermione knew she had spoken way too fast and probably rambled on like an idiot, and grew quiet once she was through to take in Snape's reaction. He was staring with his unreadable decorum—his expression blank, his eyes empty—but eventually he cleared his throat and shifted about in his chair, hunching his shoulders slightly.

"I will be staying here, Granger. I am not permitted to leave Hogwarts over the holiday as the Headmaster is traveling, and there are a handful of students in my house that need looking after."

Hermione's shoulders caved in; she was disappointed by the professor's response, despite suspecting this would be the case. "It would only be for an hour or two. I thought you could use a change of scenery; get out of here for a little while. It really_ is_ worth it, sir."

"And, as you said, you have no one to attend with."

Hermione shied away from him, and Snape instantly regretted his remark. Though he hadn't meant to be harsh, it certainly came across that way by his deep, unemotional monotone.

"I didn't mean it like that, Granger. Please don't take offense. That didn't come out the way I intended."

Snape waited for Hermione to meet his eyes again, and when she did, her irises were no longer warm but rather cold and removed. Severus adjusted a few buttons near his cravat and stood up, now freshly guilt-ridden.

"I am sorry, but I cannot go. I - _appreciate_ - the invitation, but I've already expressed to you my opinions about this ruddy holiday. I am content to stay here and look after the students in my house."

Hermione hadn't expected him to speak of his Slytherin students in such a protective manner, but the fact that he rejected her invitation was more pressing on her mind. "I understand," she stuttered, feeling very foolish. Not wanting her blighted hopes to show, however, she tried to sound upbeat and unbothered. "Well, I've given some thought to attending the service at Ottery St Mary. It's not a great distance from the Burrow, so I wouldn't have to fly for very long. Service starts at eleven thirty if you change your mind..."

Snape hardly knew what to say; he was still too visibly struck by her invitation. Hermione, however, judged that the wizard's tapered eyebrows and deep scowl were all the confirmation she needed. He wasn't remotely interested, she concluded, and she would be attending mass alone this year.

Hermione gave him a quick nod and spun on her heels. As she opened the door, ready to bolt from the room before she turned any redder in the face, she heard Snape call out to her unexpectedly. "Miss Granger." Hermione reluctantly turned around, meeting his dark irises again, which had grown considerably softer. "If you intend to fly tonight, be on guard. It isn't safe to fly so late with circumstances being what they are. Please try to have a_ safe_ holiday that doesn't involve a concussion or a bruise."

Hermione swallowed; it still wasn't what she had hoped to hear, but there was, once again, something different in the newly delicate and concerned manner with which he addressed her. "Thank you, sir. Happy Christmas."

With that, she clumsily made her exit, leaving a bereft Potions-maker to deal with the engulfing silence and racing thoughts that followed her departure.

* * *

Hermione found her time at the Burrow less pleasant than normal, but that was hardly a surprise. Ron avoided her for the most part, Harry tried to spend equal time with both of them, though he and Ginny kept wandering off by themselves, and Fred and George relentlessly kept teasing everyone.

"Did you _really_ think no one noticed, Hermione?" Fred jibed, as he took a swig of cider in the family's very tight kitchen. The rest of the family had moseyed into the sitting room to chat and be near the crackling hearth, including Lupin and Tonks, who were also staying for the holidays.

"Would you please stop!" Hermione pleaded, throwing up her hands in frustration, which only caused the twins to bust up laughing. "It's not funny! _Oh, honestly!_"

"Come off it, Hermione," George returned with friendly banter. "We've been busting Ron's chops, too, you know, so you haven't been our only target. We have to be fair. And anyway, I think you may be in luck..."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the identical twins. "Oh? And how do you figure that?"

Fred leaned in, showcasing a comical look of dramatic intensity. "Ron broke it off with Lavender."

Hermione nearly choked on the cider she had brought to her lips. "_What?_"

"Yesterday," George chimed in with a grin, as if the news were the most delicious piece of gossip they had ever received.

"He's been moping about ever since," Fred continued, "but_ he's_ the one who broke it off with her. She was hysterical when she left; even Mum couldn't calm her down. I don't think I've ever seen that kind of reaction before. She was absolutely off her rocker. It was wicked."

"Lavender was here?" Hermione could feel the burn penetrating her cheeks and hoped she didn't appear as flushed as she felt.

George nodded enthusiastically. "Yep, and not for long. It was all entirely unanticipated. Ron just sort of blurted it out over dinner in front of everyone; shouted it at her, actually." George turned to his brother with a funny sort of frown. "A bit of an awkward way of dumping someone, wouldn't you say, Freddy?"

"I agree. Very untoward. Who knew our little brother could be such a prick?"

Both young men snickered unanimously, ignoring the strange look that Hermione was giving them. "No wonder he's been such a miserable sod since I arrived." She stared down at her half empty glass, her eyes suddenly forlorn. "I figured it was me..."

"Nah," Fred offered reassuringly, leaning over the table to pat her on the shoulder. "Ron's just being a sulking, sorrowful prat as usual. He'll get over it."

"Why's Ron sulking if _he_ broke up with _her?_"

George shrugged. "Don't know; probably just feels guilty for how things went down. It wasn't one of his most debonair moments, believe me, but it was definitely memorable."

"Glad I missed it," Hermione mumbled into her cup as she took a sip, burying her blushed face behind it.

* * *

"Harry said you're going to Christmas Eve mass?"

Hermione turned around, fumbling to place her tumbling waves back with a thick barrette. "Yeah, why?" she asked rather testily.

Ron had barely spoken two words to her since she arrived, and that alone put her in dampened spirits. Christmas was her favorite time of year, but it wasn't turning out as such so far.

Why had she even come? She adored the Weasleys, yes, and regarded Molly and Arthur like second parents, but Ron was her real connection to the rest of the family, and the one she had been closest to until very recently. Hermione wasn't all too happy to not be spending time with her parents either—even if it had been her idea that they be alone together, considering their normally insane work schedules—and now that Ron had been ignoring her, Hermione had never felt more out of place.

_You should have just stayed at Hogwarts_, her conscious berated, before being interrupted by Ron.

"Well," Ron answered back with a question of his own, "why?"

Hermione turned away so that he wouldn't see the anger brewing in her eyes. "Because I go every year, Ron. I thought you knew that." She added under her breath, "At least, I thought you paid attention to me and the things that I do..."

"Oh."

Ron shoved his hands into his pockets, looking relatively awkward. He scanned Hermione's bright red, knee-legnth dress with quarter length sleeves, and at her black high heels and matching clutch that had been thrown across her bedspread while she got ready. He could see half of her reflection in a small, dusty mirror across the room as she stared into it, continuing to pull back her lustrous chestnut spirals.

"Mum and Dad are kind of worried about you going out so late. It's probably not such a good idea, 'Mione. You sure you really want to go?"

Ron was unable to stop staring at her figure. She looked surprisingly radiant, and it had been a very long time since the Gryffindor had seen his friend all dolled up.

Hermione, not taking any notice, spun her curly head around, this time letting her annoyance show. "_Yes, Ron._ I'm going."

"By yourself?"

If Hermione hadn't still possessed an ounce of self composure, she would have crossed the room and slapped that dumbfounded expression right off his freckled face. Instead, she glared him down sourly.

"Yes, Ron, _alone_."

"Blimey, 'Mione, it's just a question."

"Really? Sounded rather derogatory to me."

"Of course it would!" he spat angrily.

"Well, why do you keep asking? Does it bother you or something?"

"No," he replied a little too hastily, causing Hermione to rear back at the emotional injury his response brought. "Just thought perhaps you might want to reconsider things is all. I also thought you might want company. My mistake. I don't know why I bother. Enjoy your time alone on Christmas Eve, 'Mione! You'll probably be the only singleton there!"

Not waiting for her to reply, Ron stomped off down the hall and up the stairs to his bedroom, his hefty footsteps echoing all the way. This left Hermione alone to lament the much-desired proposition she would have received if she hadn't opened her bloody mouth. Tears were stinging her eyes and she quickly tried to distract them away.

_He's going through a bad breakup, Hermione. He doesn't mean it..._

Hermione threw on her shoes and a matching wool coat in a huff, and made her way down to the kitchen, where Molly was just finishing cleaning up at the sink. Only two candles were lit, putting the rest of the cozy, confined house in total darkness. Everyone else had gone to bed.

"Might I borrow a broom, Mrs. Weasley?"

Molly turned to her and blinked, distracted by her chores. "Of course, dear. Take Ginny's. It's the least temperamental."

"Thank you."

"You sure you'll be all right, Hermione? It's quite nippy out and very difficult to see in this snowfall. And with everything going on—"

"I'll be fine, Mrs. Weasley. Please don't worry about me. I really want to go; it's a holiday ritual I don't want to miss. Happy Christmas!"

Molly returned her warmhearted grin with a motherly one of her own. "Happy Christmas, dear. _Please_ be careful, and contact us if anything would happen. I can leave the back door—"

"There's no need, and that really isn't safe, Mrs. Weasley. Lock up; I'll be fine, I know how to see myself in again."

Hermione took her leave, stopping at a cramped cabinet near the entryway that stored all of the Weasley clan's broomsticks. She loathed flying and had never had the knack for it, or the stomach. Despite being a witch, something the boys had teased her about many times over the years, she detested heights and found flying one of the few feats in the wizarding world she couldn't master. Tonight, however, the falling snow and darkness were on her side—to _her_, anyhow—and would prove enough of a distraction to keep her from the temptation to look down and freak out.

_I can't wait to Apparate_, she reflected with a moan, trudging out into the blanket of snow. Her test to receive her license was nearing, and couldn't come soon enough.

The air was very chilly, especially once she took flight. The gust that pierced her exposed skin was almost enough to deter her from her plans, but going back to the Burrow was not in the cards tonight. For the first time that Hermione could remember, she didn't want to be there. _At all_. So she plunged ahead, pulling the long scarf rippling at her neck up to shield her face from the fierce winter gusts, making sure to keep an eye out for anyone else who might be in the air.

About ten minutes later, she arrived safely a short distance away from Ottery St Mary, and made sure to dismount inconspicuously in an alleyway not too far from the church. She hadn't really thought about what to do with her broom but cast an invisibility charm on it anyhow, and placed it behind a dumpster where she figured no wizards would look, if any were lurking about.

As she made her way towards the awe-inspiring cathedral that seemed to rise right out of the earth, she suddenly felt terribly numb and exposed walking alone. Having had Ron and Harry in her life the past few years, she had forgotten what that terribly self-conscious sensation of being isolated felt like. In grade school, it had been her every day, but at Hogwarts, she had finally found her friends, and a sense of belonging.

_Or so I thought..._

Hermione wiped away a few tears that had formed without warning and forged ahead, entering the buzzing cathedral to take in its exquisite radiance and warmth. The echo of a Christmas hymn drummed in her ears as she sought refuge near the back of the church, in a pew in the far corner where she wouldn't be seen or gawked at. She may have been alone, but she had no interest in being singled out as the poor loner on Christmas Eve. There, she sat reflectively and in quiet contemplation for some time, waiting for the service to begin.

As if on cue with her entrance, the spirit of Christmas seemed to manifest straight through the stone walls and vibrant glass windows straight to her heart, filling her up and bringing back warm memories of that magical wonder she had felt so many Christmases before. Hermione's eyes closed as she hummed along to the holiday hymn, letting the glorious music enfold her and empty her mind of any trailing, unhappy thoughts.

Then someone spoke to her in a very deep purr, interrupting her solitude. Hermione all but cried out in alarm at the startling voice that she recognized. "Miss Granger?"

"_Merlin!_ Jesus! Don't do that!" she gasped, clutching her hand to her chest as she stared up at the towering, cloaked figure standing before her. She could hardly believe it was him, and was half tempted to pinch herself just to be sure.

"Watch your mouth," he chided, with a smirk the devil would probably have approved of. "You're in a church, and that is a sin."

"Well, if you hadn't sneaked up on me like that, I might have reacted more appropriately."

Snape didn't answer right away and instead scanned her blushed cheeks and her eyes, which were turning a remarkable shade of gold from the all magnificent lighting throughout the parish. Aware that he was now staring, and probably intimidating the hell out of her, Snape blinked and glanced away momentarily to brush off the snowflakes that hadn't yet melted from his cloak.

"May I?" he requested in a gentleman-like fashion; or perhaps that was just Hermione's girlish rendering. Nevertheless, she scooted over to allow the professor to take a seat at her side, never diverting her intense gaze from him.

After she was able to catch her breath, she murmured, still quite shocked, "I can't believe you came."

"Nor can I," he drawled, adjusting the buttons along his wrists as Hermione watched him intently, growing more humored at how out of his depths he appeared to be. It was evermore endearing, in a very child-like sort of way. "I am just as astonished as you, I'm afraid."

"Yes, well, I _am_ surprised."

"As you should be."

"Well, thank you, regardless..."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "What makes you think I came here for your benefit, Granger?"

Maybe he was being serious, her mind cautioned, but Hermione found herself reacting with a fit of giggles. "Why else would you come?"

Without hesitation, the small light in Snape's dark irises flickered. "To check out this 'wonder' and 'splendor' you've been sputtering on and on about for weeks."

Hermione couldn't help blushing further. "Oh, so you _do_ pay attention to what I say? I'm shocked."

"Not particularly, no, but you've been going on about Christmas so incessantly that it's rather difficult to tune out."

Hermione chuckled again and shook her head slightly. "My apologies, Professor."

"Indeed, you should."

"So I trust you found this place easily enough?"

He smirked. "I can find you, or any other student, for that matter, easily enough."

Hermione reared back, suddenly unsure. "I thought only the Ministry had those capabilities. I don't have the Trace on me anymore."

Snape, however, leaned closer, giving her a playful regard that she hoped she wasn't just imagining. "Being a Hogwarts professor has its advantages, Granger."

"You mean being _you_ has its advantages."

"Perhaps."

"Intriguing." She paused, before her pretty lips spread wide from ear to ear, "So you didn't ask for directions then?"

Snape growled outlandishly and gave her his trademark sneer. "I hardly require directions to find you, Granger. That is an insult."

"_Indeed_," she quipped in the same form as he, spotting a handsome simper force its way across his cheeks, if only a little. "Men and asking for directions... Honestly."

It dawned on Hermione then that Snape wasn't looking much at her at all. His impenetrable eyes kept darting about the cathedral, studying the florescent lights at the front of the church, the array of lit candles at its altar, the wreaths that dangled elegantly from pew to pew, and the choir perched high above them on a second level, where the men and women sang in glorious harmony to the holiday hymn of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear."

"It is nice here," he stated softly after a time, his voice sounding abnormally gentle.

Something had stirred within him as he sat beside her, and in that moment, Hermione couldn't figure out what it was. She stared at his profile, watching the inscrutable black eyes look decidedly ahead. Judging by the mask he wore, Hermione could only guess that either this place pained him for obvious holiday-related reasons, or it was something else—something much deeper—and a heavily safeguarded secret.

Hermione knew she couldn't push him or she would surely end up spending the service by herself, so she pretended not to notice. "Yes, it _is_ nice, isn't it? I like smaller services like these; makes the atmosphere a lot more intimate."

Snape grunted as a form of reply but then responded after a pause, "Why didn't Mr. Weasley accompany you this evening?"

For the first time, Hermione looked away from him, in obvious emotional distress. "He tried to, but I shot him down before he could ask."

Snape fully turned his head, staring at her sunken eyes head on. They were now focused on the fingers fidgeting together in her lap.

"Why?" he asked with caution. "I thought you didn't want to come by yourself."

"I - I didn't," she murmured, peering up at him, her golden irises freshly forlorn. The melancholy that stared back at him was unusual and rattled him to see. His gaze intensified for a brief moment before returning to normal. "Thank you for coming," she whispered delicately, as if each word were an effort to make. "I really _do_ appreciate it. It is - _exceedingly_ - kind of you."

Snape couldn't think of what to say, judging by how embarrassed and rejected she suddenly appeared, so he bowed his head accordingly, leaning in close to her as he confessed, with surprising tenderness, "I had nowhere else to be. It is fine, Granger. Your gratitude is unnecessary."

"What about your students?" she inquired curiously.

"They can survive an hour or two in my absence. And I'm not on patrol tonight, so any troubles they choose to get themselves into are out of my hands."

Hermione's smile extended. "You care about them."

It was a defining statement that caused Snape's brow to furrow. "Of course I do," he returned with a puzzled stare. "What are you insinuating?"

"That you _care_, Professor, despite your constant attempts to pretend that you don't."

"Oh?"

Hermione welcomed his challenge with glistening eyes. "Yes, you do, and we both know it. And you've let your guard down just a fraction, too. It's nice to see this side to you, sir. You should show it more often; then people might not think you to be so cold and heartless."

"I _am_ cold and heartless, Granger," replied Snape, with a severe scowl that did not faze Hermione one bit.

"Bullocks. No, you're not. You just pretend to be."

"And how do you presume to know so much about me all of a sudden?"

"I don't... But you came _here_ tonight, didn't you?"

Snape gave her a grave, almost apprehensive look. "You invited me."

"Even so," she chuckled back, shaking her head lightly, "you didn't _have_ to come, sir; you_ chose_ to be here. That's _kindness_, and not at all insensitive or cruel."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're on about, Granger," Snape sputtered, suddenly keenly self-aware and not at all liking what she was getting at, "as usual."

Hermione continued to grin, caramel irises searching the black. The wall had come back up again, but it wasn't bolted shut.

"I think you do know what I'm talking about..."

The silent regard they exchanged was peculiar and intriguing, but not uncomfortable. They simply stared into each other's eyes, evidently searching for something from the other. Then the Christmas service began, and with it, brought their conversation to a pause.

Hermione was struck by how Snape took to the holiday service. She expected him to sit and scowl and look altogether miserable throughout, but instead he surprised her, yet again, by proving an active participant.

Severus Snape stood whenever it was asked of the congregation, followed the program along with Hermione, and even spoke the prayers aloud when they were addressed. Most shockingly of all, however, was when he sang the Christmas hymns in harmony with everyone else. He didn't seem remotely irritated as he sang along; he was actually quite serene about it, which Hermione could hardly believe. His rich baritone was additionally welcoming and a delightful sound to her ears, partly because it was so unexpected, but mostly because it was surprisingly beautiful.

Hermione watched sidelong as Snape drew more and more out of himself; at the beginning, his voice was quiet and muffled, but by the final carol—a haunting rendition of "Silent Night," and one of Hermione's personal favorites—Snape's deep vocals were loud enough to decipher. That voice—rather music in itself—proved an unexpected comfort to her. He never sang off key, and it wasn't a mechanical act on his part; he sang from somewhere deep inside—from a heavily sealed off place Hermione wasn't privy to—and she found herself yearning to _hear_ more, to _see_ more, to _know_ much, much more. She was transfixed and found the task of keeping her eyes off him extremely difficult.

An hour later, they were making their way back out into the falling snow, their bodies close together but not touching, and Hermione could sense the wheels turning behind the eyes, that he was struggling with whatever it was he wished to tell her. She kept glancing over at him, thinking he might speak, but his mouth would start to open, then close again.

"How did you get here, Granger?" he finally asked, his tone of voice returning to the uninterested drawl she was used to.

"I flew." Snape raised a curious eyebrow at her, to which she stifled a laugh. "What?"

"You're not much of a flyer."

Hermione cackled. "No, I'm not. And how'd you know?"

"I've seen you practicing on occasion. I _am_ your teacher, after all, and live on the school grounds, if you remember."

"Yeah, well, thanks for your positive commentary."

"What is it you fear about flying?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed. "I'm _not_ afraid."

"Yes, you are."

"Am not!"

"Are too, and are you really going to argue with me about it?"

"Oh, very well," she grumbled, trying not to let her cheeks glow brighter than they already were. "I hate heights. They've made me queasy ever since I was a little girl. When I was five, my parents took me on a Ferris wheel ride at the beach, and right in the middle of one of the turns, it stopped running. Ruddy piece of junk. We were at the very top and stuck up there for almost two hours. I screamed the whole time. I was convinced the cart was going to drop right out of the sky and that that would be it for me. Silly, I know, but I was young, and I was terrified out of my wits. I've never cared for heights since."

"I see." Snape lapsed back into silence, keeping pace beside her and allowing the sound of their feet and the bustling of passersby to fill the void. Hermione waited, acknowledging his silence respectfully. "Why not let Potter instruct you in the ways of broom flying? Word has it that he's _exceedingly talented_."

The sarcasm was obvious, but Hermione found herself smiling, despite the slight of her best friend. "He's tried, actually; many times, in fact. I'm afraid I just don't have the stomach to keep testing myself, and Harry's since lost his patience with me. I don't blame him. I tend to lash out when I'm afraid."

She glanced at Snape out of the corner of her eye and spotted a handsome, half-cocked smirk amidst the darkness. He was staring ahead, but his colorless eyes weren't at all interested in whatever he was looking at. Then he shocked her with a proposition.

"I could teach you, if you'd like."

Hermione stopped walking altogether and ogled him. "What?"

Snape turned to her casually, as if it were no big deal. "Why not?"

"Um, well..."

"Until you can think of a legitimate reason, Granger, then it shall be arranged; perhaps when the weather is more appropriate. The only way to overcome your fears is to face them head on—repeatedly if necessary—until you are no longer afraid."

"But I'll be able to Apparate soon!" Hermione protested, not out of anything against the professor, only she really didn't want to be forced into practicing something she so disliked.

"What has that got to do with it? You needn't be afraid, and if you allow me to help you, you won't be any longer."

Hermione shifted her head to one side, her curls cascading down one shoulder as she stared at him intently. "Why do you want to help me, Professor? You seem to be going to an awful lot of trouble these days... Dueling, teaching me how to combat Dark Arts magic, Occlumency, Legilimency, now this... I - I still don't quite understand _why_. Why are you helping me?"

There was a subtle glistening in the depths of Snape's eyes. Perhaps it was because the full moon was reflecting down upon them, or perhaps it was the dancing snowflakes that twirled and spiraled in their midst. Whatever the cause for the sudden, unexpected twinkle, it seemed to manifest from within, like a flame about to spread like a wildfire.

"Because it is my job, Granger," he whispered, his murmur as smooth as silk, "and with what you and Potter will soon be up against, you should overcome whatever your fears are now, while you still can. You shouldn't be afraid. What will come, will come, and it does no good to you or to anyone else to dwell on the inevitable."

Hermione stared. There was a resolution and omniscience to him and the manner in which he spoke. _He knew something_—she figured that out long ago—and was still dropping tantalizing hints, as if it were his duty to do so. And his predictions were sounding more and more like warning signs ringing in her ears rather than the nasty promises she took them for at the start.

"Sir," she said, stepping forward with mounting curiosity, "please tell me what's going on. What is it you know? What are you trying to tell me without being forthright? _Just tell me, Snape. Please?_"

Hermione had never properly addressed him by just his last name before. She saw a flicker of a response, but if it bothered him, he was choosing not to acknowledge it.

"I_ have_ been forthright with you, Granger. I simply cannot divulge everything you wish to know."

Hermione crinkled her brow. "Why not?"

"It's a matter of trust."

"You still don't trust me?"

"Granger, I barely know you. And you certainly don't know me."

"That isn't true..."

"Don't talk like a fool," Snape spoke with acute frankness. "It is very beneath you. _You don't know me_."

Hermione couldn't help but frown. "You talk of being afraid, Professor, that I should free myself from my fears. Yet you can't let go of your own."

"I beg your pardon?"

Snape's tone wasn't brash or mangled by insult; he was simply confused, so Hermione seized the window that had cracked open—a window into the wizard's soul—in the hopes that she might be let inside this time.

"You are afraid to trust; you are afraid to get too close to people, so you continuously push them away. You keep others at a distance by pretending to be cold and aloof, but I know for a fact that you're not, Snape. Tonight proves it. I've seen glimpses behind the mask that you wear. _And that's the person I wish to know._

"I understand you're afraid to open up to anyone, and I'm not going to push or force you to anymore. I wouldn't expect you to tell me everything anyhow. But I just want you to know that there are people you can confide in, Snape. Like me. You aren't alone..."

In the process of the young lady's rambling, Snape discovered that he had stopped breathing. He let out a prolonged sigh and wanted desperately to look away from her but couldn't; there was a smoldering in his eyes, something melting away all the falling snow that touched his eyelashes and protruding nose.

He cleared his throat and attempted to formulate a reply that was much softer and more pained than Hermione was prepared for. "Miss Granger, I am a _difficult_ person. I have never been social, or gracious, or easy to converse with, as, I'm sure, you are already aware, but I have to stress it to you myself. I'm a recluse, and, I confess, not at all good at that sort of thing. If you_ did_ get to know me on some level or another, you wouldn't like what you saw. _Not at all_."

Hermione's sunken frown grew deeper, as did her eyes. "How do you know that, Snape, unless you try?"

When he said nothing, only stared at her in his own silent torment, Hermione stepped even closer. Their proximity was such now that she could feel his steady breaths against her nose and cheeks and was warmed by his heated exhales of air.

"I don't bite, you know," she teased, giving him a playful smirk, "and I promise I won't hurt you."

_Yes, she will_, Snape reflected sorely to himself. _She will, Severus. Back away now._

"Why did you come tonight?" she pressed.

Snape blinked hard. "Because you asked me to."

"No. _Why did you come?_"

Hermione waited, staring up at him without moving or stepping down. Snape swallowed and raised his chin.

"Because I thought you could use company." He hated how utterly weak he sounded and was sure Hermione could hear it in his shaky reply, which only increased his frustrations.

"No, Snape. _Why did you_ really _come?_"

Finally, Snape's wall came down another fraction, his dark eyes glimpsing at a genuineness that wasn't harsh or forced. It was sincere. His face sunk, his hair falling forward to half mask his burning cheeks, and it took every ounce of Hermione's composure not to whisk them away, to see that pale face fully; a face she now found attractive.

"Because I thought you could use a...a friend," he muttered, feeling raw and entirely out of his element.

"_Exactly_," Hermione returned, visibly pleased with Snape's profoundness, that he had spoken truth to her at last. Her grin spread wide, which Snape thought remarkably sweet, and the image pressed against his aching chest.

Hermione had no idea what she was doing, but her next move was a bold one, particularly for her, the always respectful and obliging student. She reached out to Snape and gently brought both of his hands into her own. She heard the strained hitch at the back of his throat and saw his flicker of shock.

Snape's eyes fluttered—_beautifully_, to her—responding to this warm moment of contact. It caused her to react readily by giving his hands an affectionate squeeze. She was relieved—delighted, rather—that he didn't pull away. Not this time.

"I think you could use someone to talk to, Snape. You look like a man who could really use with some company, someone who desperately _needs_ to talk. I - I'd very much _like_ to be your friend, if you'll have me?"

Snape was too indisposed to respond, and his mind was fighting him—screaming at him, rather—to put a stop to this. _This isn't happening_, his paranoid conscience cautioned him. _She's just lonely, Severus. She just wants someone to talk to—temporarily—and then she'll exit your life like everyone else. She couldn't possibly be interested in being your 'friend,' and you shouldn't be foolish enough to want to be hers. Don't let her pull you in. Don't give her the bloody satisfaction of using you like Lily did; like everyone else has... Don't. Don't you dare._

"Miss Granger," he began delicately, but she interrupted him in a calm, firm voice.

"_Hermione_. Please, call me Hermione. I'd prefer it."

Something in Snape's chest was tugging, yearning to repeat her name, not out of curiosity, but out of _need_. He swallowed, his mouth now parched, and said it back to her, rather timidly, "Hermione..."

He braced himself, waiting for Hermione to walk away, to be mortified, or to inadvertently come to her senses, but she did nothing of the sort. Instead, he was embraced by her radiating smile, brighter than the illuminating Christmas lights that dawned the inside of the church they had just come from, and he appreciated it immensely, no matter how hard he fought himself not to.

"See?" she offered encouragingly, holding steadfastly to his hands. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I..."

"I won't push you, all right? At least, I'll try not to in the future. I promise."

"I..."

"I know this is a very odd request. You _are_ still my teacher, and I'm your student, but that doesn't mean we can't get to know one another, does it?"

"I... No."

"Good, I'm so glad."

Snape's breath stalled before he managed a quiet, "Thank you," in reply.

"Your gratitude is unnecessary, Snape," Hermione repeated what he had told her earlier in the same genuine fashion.

"Very well." Snape took an extended moment to collect himself before addressing her again. "But I warn you, _Hermione_, I can be quite brash and bitter and unkind—"

"I know all that about you already," she chuckled dismissively before adding, "with all due respect."

Snape snorted. "But it's very true. I don't want you to be disappointed..."

"I won't be. I'll just have to work with you and try to be patient, that's all. You're a tough one to break, you know that? _Exceedingly difficult._"

Suddenly, Snape peered down at their locked hands, and a muscle in one of his high cheek bones twitched. "This is probably inappropriate, Miss Gran—Hermione."

"What? Holding hands?" She couldn't help but blush, despite the cold. "It's actually quite harmless, Snape. People hold hands all the time."

_You're just not accustomed to it_, she reflected sadly, pondering how uncomfortable this probably was for him. She instantly grew unsure, judging by Snape's somber reaction and the fact that he was staring at their hands but not uttering a word.

"Do you want me to let go?"

It was an excruciatingly long time before Snape responded, and in a choked whisper, as if it pained him to say the words aloud, "No. I - I'd prefer that you didn't let go..."

"Then I won't," Hermione insisted gently, giving him a warmhearted look in the hopes that he would look at her once more. She found herself missing those strange colored eyes that could bore into her very soul. They could be unsettling one moment, then alive and consuming the next.

"Where is your broom?" she heard him inquire, finally meeting her gaze.

"Just around the corner."

"Very well. I will Disapparate you to the Burrow. It's much more efficient and far too late to travel by any other means. After you, Miss Granger."

"_Hermione_," she reminded him, to which he emphatically rolled his eyes.

Hermione reacted with another round of soft laughter and led him by the hand into the darkened alleyway. The firm grasp of his warm hand in hers sparked a whole set of new feelings Hermione wasn't familiar with, and she was distracted by the wonderfully new sensations. She wasn't aware of the negative brooding going on beside her.

_You are a clingy, pathetically weak minded sod, Severus. You will come to regret this. And so will she..._

* * *

**A/N #2: Not to rain on anyone's parade, but don't get overly excited. Baby steps, remember? Friends first, then... Well, we'll see. ;)  
**

**Of note: It's nothing major, but to those who are wondering, Hermione attends mass because in_ this_ story her parents are Catholics, and, thus, that's how she grew up (though she obviously didn't attend regularly, as was mentioned in an earlier chapter). She did live as a Muggle for eleven years of her life; maybe her parents took her to church, maybe they didn't. Her religion was never defined in the books, so I'm taking free reign with this,_ because that's what fanfiction is all about, folks_. Oh, and I'm not a Catholic either, so I'm not trying to impose a certain belief system on anyone. It's simply another little element I'm weaving into this story. **


	15. Mind of a Master

**A/N: Thank you for all your feedback on the last chapter, as well as those of you who've expressed support for this story. We all have our own interpretations of these characters - how we, ourselves, personally envision them while reading the books - and how we think they might behave and interact. This is _my_ take. And if you've decided to continue their journey, then I sincerely hope you enjoy this latest installment. **

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 15: Mind of a Master**

Severus didn't dare inform Hermione about what her touch—her simple taking of his hands—had unleashed. He would never divulge that information to her, nor would he willingly frighten her away either, especially now that he had seemingly gained her trust. He couldn't even recall anymore where her 'switching sides' had begun, and it was, indeed, just that, whether her Gryffindor pride would admit to it or not.

_Potter and Weasley will hate her for this_, Severus lamented with an angry sneer. _Unless she doesn't tell. Yes, that's what she'll do. She won't tell a soul. It's better that way; you know it is. Because that's what you are, Severus: too mortifying to be seen with, too uncomfortable to be around, too deeply and irreversibly despised to be caught conversing with..._

Severus tried not to reflect on how this potential friendship—if that's truly what it was—might affect Hermione. Did she even know the magnitude of what she was risking? Had she even considered the consequences?

In the back of his mind, Severus knew what he _should_ do: push her away, as was his pattern of behavior; something the clever witch already gathered on her own. Sure, he was supposed to gain her trust, but the act of doing so still sickened him. There had to be another way. Yes, he _must_ push her away.

_But she will eventually do that on her own anyhow, Severus. Once she discovers what you've done, and what you have yet to do... She will come to hate and despise you, and will misread your intentions like everyone else. She's clever, but not that clever. And you mustn't hurt her. You can't allow her too much access. She's finding out too much about you as it is._

Even if awful events weren't already in motion that couldn't be countermanded, Severus was resolved of what would occur: he would drive Hermione away at some point, just by giving her more access to the private Severus—_the real Severus_—that no one else understood, not even Dumbledore. Not even Lily Evans herself all those years ago got that close. And in the end, she misjudged him, too.

This was Severus Snape's tragic reality, and one that he fully came to accept: every person he had ever known, not that there were many, had deserted him. They couldn't stand him. He wasn't worth a damn. He was loathed and rejected and would never be accepted, let alone loved. And Hermione Granger would leave as well. Just like that blasted Potter's beautiful mother—that radiant beauty with long, red hair that tumbled to her waist and vivid, green eyes—who he had adored nearly all his life, even in death.

Severus snarled and strode to the crackling hearth in the sanctuary of his office. Night had fallen, and Christmas Day would soon be over. He had been half tempted to inquire as to when Miss Granger—_Hermione_—would return from the Burrow after their parting, but cowered when the moment arrived; however, he secretly hoped she would return soon.

_Severus, stop being a blasted idiot! Get a hold of yourself! You have other obligations that take precedence over her._

_Albus will be returning soon, you need to check in on Draco at first light, and you must make further headway on these bloody Horcruxes. You must dig for more information from the Dark Lord, although maybe, Miss Grang—Hermione—could help you? She could— No. Stop bringing her up. That's out of the question._

Severus slumped into his leather chair, drained of what little remaining energy he had. He had stayed up most of the night thinking about that damned Christmas service and the heartening conversation that followed, and couldn't help but wonder if somehow, just maybe, Hermione was reflecting on the past twenty-four hours, too. And of their touch. That burning, wonderful moment when she took his hands in hers, and he had allowed it, and she hadn't been at all repulsed by touching him. Not one bit.

If Hermione only knew what that handholding had awakened in him he thought long to be dead... _No, Severus. You aren't worthy of it. You aren't deserving of her friendship, and you know it._

* * *

Hermione returned to Hogwarts the day after Christmas, despite the many protests from everyone at the Burrow. Lupin and Tonks weren't too contrary, but they still extended the invitation to stay. Harry was dumbfounded and downright suspicious by the time she left. Ginny, too, begged her to stay—not wanting to be stuck with only her mother and Tonks for female company—and Ron said nothing at all.

_To hell with him!_

Hermione threw her clothes in a mangled pile on her bed, staring off at nothing in particular, but with a disgruntled expression, nevertheless. Crookshanks sat lazily nearby, scrutinizing his mistress quietly.

Hermione knew what would take her mind off her troubles, though the warm feeling it brought was very new to her and also a little troubling: a visit with the professor.

_Who would have thought I'd turn to Severus Snape, of all people, to cheer me up. It must be official then: I really _have_ lost my mind._

Hermione let out a defeated giggle and waltzed off towards the D.A.D.A. classroom, unaware of the ridiculous smile on her face that was spreading from ear to ear the closer she came to that familiar, dark setting she used to abhor, but now actually welcomed.

_I have a bone to pick with you, Severus Snape, and I hope that you'll be forthright with me this time._

* * *

"How are you making out, Draco?" Severus urged, though in his usual monotone, regarding the blond boy with severity.

"Um, well, I... Well enough—"

"_Enough?_"

Having received an early morning summoning from the Dark Lord just hours before, Severus's patience was worn considerably thin. Draco flinched and fidgeted with his hands. Something inside him was coming apart at the seams, proving more than a little worrisome to his Head of House.

"Sir, I - I don't know... I don't know if - if I can—"

"You don't know if you can do this."

There was no empathy behind Severus's words, and Draco swallowed hard. "My dad's disappointed in me, Mum doesn't offer anything beyond encouragement, and you... Well, you don't say anything at all. You've been very distant and strange lately. I know you've been summoned by him a lot, but still... Have you already given up on me?"

Severus discerned the entanglement of misery and fear in Draco's question, and he reacted by staring at the boy for some time without blinking. Then he whispered darkly, "You do remember that I swore an oath to protect you, Draco? You haven't forgotten—"

"No, of course I haven't!"

"Then you _must_ let me assist you."

"No! I told you before, _I can do this!_"

"You were just telling me only a moment ago that you didn't think you could, Draco."

"I don't care! I'm not a coward, and I'm not inadequate! I know that's what you think! Admit it! You know the Dark Lord's going to kill me, don't you?"

"_What?_"

"He's going to - to kill me and my family, isn't he?" Draco suddenly became hysterical, his eyes widening madly as he flailed his hands about in the air. "You know it! That's why you've held back; that's why you don't encourage me whatsoever, sir!"

"Draco, you are blabbing absurdities!" Severus snarled, irritated and weary, but Draco ignored him.

"You've _known_ I'm going to flounder, haven't you? You've known all along, and you've been setting me up for failure!"

Severus rounded on Draco without warning by thrusting him violently against the stone wall in his office, his tired, pallid face contorting into terrifying wrath. Draco yelped in pain at colliding with the wall and stared at his godfather with expanded eyes.

"You impertinent fool! I've done nothing but stick my neck out for you since the very beginning, but you've resisted every attempt I've made to help you! Do you have any idea of the extent to which I've risked myself for you, Draco? You wouldn't, would you? You ungrateful, pretentious brat! I took the Unbreakable Vow, _for you!_ If _you_ fail, Draco, so do _I!_ _If you perish, Draco, I go down with you!_ You selfish, spineless—"

"All right! All right!" Draco trembled and tried to lift his arms to shield himself from Severus's frightening advance, but it did no good. Severus was much stronger than one would ever perceive him of being and had him pinned against the wall with nowhere to go, his fingers digging into Draco's arms, causing him to wince in pain. "Please, Severus, I'm sorry! I'm just really stressed out over this. I know how much is at stake, _I do!_ Let me go!"

Severus let out an animal-like growl. He pulled his hands off Draco, who collapsed several inches onto the floor, unaware that the man had actually lifted him up off the ground.

"Don't crack, Draco," Severus warned with a threatening undertone. "If you do, we're all doomed. Keep that in mind the next time you fly off the handle."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Severus inhaled a calculated breath when there was an unanticipated shuffling at the door and Hermione suddenly burst in, startling both Slytherins . "Oh!" she gasped.

"Goddamn it, Granger!" Snape lowered his wand with another exasperated sigh. "What did I tell you before about entering my office unannounced?"

Hermione immediately lamented her foolish error. She was just starting to get on good terms with the man, and was actually looking forward to seeing him today, when all of that faded away like a light switch.

"Sorry, sir! I - I guess I forgot."

"_Already?_"

"I'm sorry, Snape."

"_Snape?_" Draco crinkled his nose, and Hermione became suddenly aware of the boy's presence. She went red in the face. "Since when are you on an informal level with the professor, Granger? Kissing arse for higher marks again, are we?"

"Shove off, Malfoy!"

Draco, however, snickered, and seemed to momentarily forget that Snape was even standing beside him. "What are you doing here anyhow? I thought your detentions were over?"

"Um, well—"

"Miss Granger has failed to see the error of her ways, I'm afraid, so she will be spending additional time here over break."

Hermione hated how surly Snape's voice had turned, as well as his addressing her so formally. She hadn't been able to get the way his voice sounded when he said her name out of her mind. Now that all felt like an insensible dream.

"Poor Granger," Draco cackled, crossing his arms and examining her up and down. "Pity to be you. I hope your detentions are just as unpleasant as what I'm imaging them to be in my head."

"Must not be very vivid an image then, judging by that small noggin of yours." Hermione gave a challenging smirk that made Draco's temper flare.

"You filthy, ugly, stupid little Mud—"

"_That will be all, Draco!_" Snape snapped, seizing the racist prat by the shoulder too roughly. When Draco let out a small yelp, Snape came to his senses quickly and removed his hand. "Go on. Get out of here."

Draco stared on for a moment, bewildered by the pair of them. His godfather never scolded him for acting out against the Granger girl before. Why the sudden change of heart? He stumbled out of Snape's office clutching his shoulder and with much confusion pressing on his mind.

Hermione closed the door and held her breath, waiting. "I - I really _am_ sorry—"

Snape grumbled and turned away from her. "Forget it, Granger."

"_Hermione_."

Snape whipped his head in her direction, scrutinizing her heatedly. "Have you any idea what I could have done to you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Why must I spell everything out for you? I thought you were _intelligent!_"

"You are just so full of compliments today, aren't you?"

"Watch yourself, Granger. I warn you—"

"It's _Hermione!_"

Snape waved an arm at her with a ferocious growl. "I don't give a damn!"

"Very well then. I'll come back later since you're in such a lovely mood. Pardon me for disturbing you, _Snape_."

It took every ounce of Snape's control not to fracture at the seams. He cringed and watched as Hermione spun on her heel in a tempestuous fashion to leave.

_Not smart, Severus. Not smart at all._

"Wait!" he called, though it came out more like a growl.

When Hermione spun her wild mass of curls around, she could see the visible struggle in the man's face, twisted in an effort to maintain his cool. She crossed her arms and stared him down, however, extremely put out compared to how she had just felt moments ago.

"Please, Miss Grang—_Hermione_, that was impertinent of me."

Snape may have awkwardly looked away, but Hermione's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. _The stubborn sod is cracking_, she mused to herself. It wasn't an apology, but it was pretty close. Hermione wasn't about to give in so readily though.

"Yes, it _was_ rude, Snape, and here I thought we were just starting to get on good terms."

Snape, still listening but too uncomfortable to make eye contact, sunk into his chair, his weariness painted by his harsh facial contours. Hermione's demeanor softened a little in response.

"Are you all right?" she whispered.

"_Exceptionally_," he sniped, though it didn't bear its usual sting. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, then finally glanced over at her. "What is it you want, Hermione?"

"I... Um, well..."

"_Yes?_"

"Well, I brought these for you, for starters." Hermione pulled out the three Dark Arts books she was carrying in a bag far too small for such things, and stepped forward to place them carefully on his desk. "I know I promised to give them back a while ago. I'm sorry. I'm surprised you didn't ask for them."

Snape studied the books for a moment before giving her a faint smirk. "Because I knew you would return them to me once you had all your questions in order."

At this, Hermione cracked a smile, unable to stay angry anymore. "Oh, very well. You win."

"And I trust you come with your quill and parchment handy and plan to grill me unnecessarily for the next several hours?"

"Minus the parchment and quill, yes."

"You could have at least had the courtesy of allowing me to set aside time for this."

"It's Christmas break," she retorted, though she instantly felt rather stupid for saying that.

Snape seemingly thought so too, for he snorted and gave her a cynical frown. "And my workload doesn't stop for the holidays, Miss Grang—_Hermione_. I don't have that luxury. I'm a full time professor with a full time job that spills over into what little personal time I possess.

"Are you certain you passed your O.W.L.s? For as clever a witch as you are, you seem to lack an awful lot of common sense."

"Now you're just being downright cruel."

"It's my job."

"Your colleagues don't seem to share _that_ particular method."

"Because they're all softies and pushovers. I am not."

"Ahhh, I see; makes perfect, logistical sense to be a snarky, coldhearted bastard instead."

Hermione froze, realizing her mind had run away with her mouth. She gulped at seeing the mysterious look on Snape's face, but then, stunning her further, a wicked smirk formed across his face instead of any dangerous scowl.

"Indeed... Will you deter me long?"

"Um, probably, yes."

Snape muttered something under his breath and rose to his feet. Hermione startled and gave him a befuddled expression.

"Very well," he sighed. "Come with me."

"Come?" she repeated, scrunching up her nose as he glided towards her with his black robes spread out like a surging flag. "Where are we going?"

Snape paused when he reached her side, staring down with a peculiar expression that made her breath hitch in her throat. "I daresay you won't mind, _Hermione_."

Hermione didn't hesitate and was too intrigued, following the Slytherin down the stone steps and out of the classroom, practically tripping over herself to keep up with his accelerated strides. Several corridors and a series of ascending steps and shortcuts later, she found herself at a secluded spot of Hogwarts castle she had never been to before. They were at the top level of whatever part of the school this was, with only a wooden door perched between them and the snow-covered rooftop beyond. Snape opened the door and stepped aside, waiting for Hermione to pass through.

"I didn't bring my coat."

"You may use this."

Snape gracefully removed his cloak and brought it around her shoulders before she could protest. It was surprisingly heavy, which Hermione hadn't expected, but then she was also much shorter, causing most of the material to make contact with the floor. Hermione gawked at Snape for his small gesture of kindness—one she hadn't expected—before she managed to clear her throat.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he grumbled in return.

Hermione trekked out onto the rooftop that was half protected by an overhang and a higher tower just beyond. The winter wind allowed her to catch a whiff of the professor's potent scent as she passed by, and she inhaled it deeply, allowing _him_ to fill her lungs as he stood unaware at her side, propped against the wall with one leg up and a freshly lit cigarette in his hand.

As Hermione thoughtfully looked him over, she couldn't help but crack a smile. Severus Snape was an elegant mixture of contradictions; understatedly sophisticated in all his movements and gestures, and yet, equally dangerous looking and harsh by his touchy attitude, facial expressions, and morbid appearance. He had always been that way, of course, but it was a more curious sight to Hermione now, and she couldn't help but watch him inconspicuously as he took several drags.

"Well?" he pressed her after a time.

"I'll start with an easy one." She paused as Snape arched an eyebrow. "What drew you to the Dark Arts?"

Snape's black irises constricted, his scowl deepening against his sunken cheeks. "That's supposed to be an easy one? Your lack of subtly is worsening, Hermione."

Hermione shot him a sly, half grin. "No, and I don't see the point."

"Of what?"

"You're diverting from my question, Snape."

"Because it is not an easy one to answer."

"So _try_ me."

"You'll freeze to death by the time I'm through."

"I have all day."

"Well, I don't."

"You can make an exception. I think you owe it to me."

"Let's get one thing straight, Hermione, I don't owe you—"

"Level with me, will you? I'm not asking you to divulge any more than you feel comfortable sharing, Snape. Considering you placed those books in my possession though, my curiosity is only natural; you should've expected this."

"_Indeed_."

"So?"

Snape sighed, taking an extra-long puff of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke through his flared nostrils. He stared off across the milky white grounds; Hermione suspected he was contemplating how to address her question and waited as patiently as she could.

Then Snape reached into his coat pocket and fumbled for another cigarette, outstretching it for her to take. "You should have one. This could take a while..."

Hermione shook her head decidedly. "Thanks, but I'll pass. That was a one-time thing."

Snape stared at her, intrigued. "Oh?"

"I was curious and now can safely say that I got that 'out of my system.'"

Snape smirked and withdrew it back into his pocket. "Suit yourself."

"Do you roll those yourself?"

Snape gave a curt nod in the shadows of the overhang. "Yes, and they're not typical Muggle cigarettes. I kicked that habit a while ago."

"You used to smoke the real deal?"

"Mmm, more out of spite than desire. I smoked heavily in my teens when I was home for the summer. I wasn't permitted to use magic, and things were..." As if aware that he was delving far too deep into his own reflections, Snape grunted and shifted awkwardly. "Anything to piss my father off was well worth it to me, so I took up smoking because I knew he despised the smell."

"Really? _That_ was your reason?"

Snape snorted. "Yes, admittedly not one of my brightest ideas."

"I daresay not... So, you make your own because in some form or another you _are_ still addicted."

"I am not," he returned with a scowl that made Hermione smile.

"Sir, um, I hate to fight you on such a superficial point, but if you actually put forth the effort to make a healthier alternative, then I'm afraid you very well _are_ still addicted."

Snape grumbled something and rolled his eyes, not offering a retort for a change, which Hermione found astonishing, until he proceeded to ask, "Does my health concern you?"

Hermione was rattled by that unanticipated question. And she hated the severe blush that reddened her cheeks.

"_I'm_ the one asking the questions right now, Snape," she stammered her reply. "Now then, your interest in the Dark Arts?"

"I don't exactly remember when it began," Snape offered with a casual shrug, sounding bored, "but I was very young; much younger than a first year student. It turned into an obsessive fascination, if you will, once I started at Hogwarts. Aside from Potions, it was my favorite subject, and the one I spent the most extracurricular activities pursuing and expanding my knowledge on. It probably didn't help that I fell into a group of mates who were also heavily drawn to the Dark Arts; we influenced and encouraged one another's curiosity. Mulciber, Avery... You wouldn't know them. Lucius Malfoy, however, I believe you are familiar with?"

Hermione shuddered in a manner that had very little to do with the wind. She nodded and brought Snape's coat more securely around herself, holding tight to the warm fabric.

"From my earliest days at Hogwarts, I spent the majority of my free time alone. I was always a recluse, even then, and found the general act of making friends difficult..." Snape grimaced, his eyes shifting reflectively as he stared off into the distance. "I had an unpleasant upbringing, which only stirred my interest in the Dark Arts and heightened my desire to feed my curiosity. I spent a great deal of time in the Restricted Section, looking up any books I could find that even touched upon the controversial subject. It wasn't enough what I was taught in class; it was a joke anyhow, just as it has been for decades.

"I knew the professors who taught the subject withheld a lot of information, that some of what they chose to disclose were fabrications and others outright lies, as I would later come to understand on my own. They weren't being forthright whatsoever, the old buggers. They were all exceedingly biased and skittish about most of the subject. Merlin knows _why_ they taught it in the first place if they were so cowardly and afraid. They treated the Dark Arts as if it were some kind of contagious cancer."

Snape snorted and took another drag. "So I resorted to teaching myself. If the professors I had weren't going to be forthright and tell me everything, I'd find my own way. It wasn't all that difficult, really, and there were _a lot_ more textbooks available at my disposal then than there are now. A shame, really."

Hermione cocked her head sideways. "What happened to them?" She suspected that she already knew the answer.

"After Voldemort's disappearance in 1981, virtually every text on the Dark Arts was banned. The three I gave you are probably the least biased in their instruction, and safer than many of the others I've kept, and yet, they were still set ablaze by the Ministry. Foolish cowards, the whole lot of them." Snape paused, his dark eyes narrowing, marking the circles under his eyes more distinctively. "And don't gawk at me like that, Miss—_Hermione_. Yes, I do indeed possess quite an extensive collection on the Dark Arts. Not here at the school, of course, but I have them, nevertheless. You, of all people, shouldn't be as ridiculously shocked as you pretend to be."

Hermione instantly closed her mouth, having not realized until then that she had been blatantly staring; but her caramel eyes remained widened and glued to Snape. "If that's the case, then why are you telling _me?_"

Snape gave an audible gripe. "Isn't that what 'friends' are supposed to do? Divulge their secrets? Be honest and open with each other?"

"Don't be sarcastic. It's a legitimate question, Snape! Do you have _any_ idea how much trouble you'd get in if anyone—if anyone _else_—found that out?"

To say that Snape was stunned would be a severe understatement. He expected her to gasp, to threaten him, or to rush off and inform someone of authority immediately. He really didn't even understand _why_ he was divulging such compromising information to one of his students—and _her_, of all people—but he was too tired to ponder anymore, and too fatigued in general to really give a damn at the moment.

"I appreciate your discretion," he mumbled after a moment, though he meant it more than she knew.

"Who said I would keep it a secret?"

"I believe_ you_ did, just now."

The skin on Hermione's face started to burn. "Is that so?"

"You've been seeking out my confidence for some time, Hermione, so don't pretend to be so dramatically coy. I am entrusting you not to tell; in part, because you've read the books I gave to you, and also because I don't believe that you actually view the Dark Arts in the same biased manner you did before. You haven't retained the same prejudices as your narrow-minded peers. Am I wrong?"

"I..." Hermione hesitated and coughed. "All right, no. Um, maybe..."

She could hardly make sense of her own confession, and her worry over the matter was discernible to the brilliant wizard watching her. "Knowledge is power, Hermione," she heard Snape reply, drawing her out of her troubling thoughts, "but _you_ know the difference between curiosity and influence, and that is a rare distinction, indeed. I have told you this before.

"Not many young adults would be able to decipher the difference. It is far too easy to be swayed by what we learn from our superiors, by how our peers can dictate our own thoughts and rationale, by what we read and how mere words can persuade us into conforming to another person's point of view...

"It happened to me. I was easily persuaded and misguided, but there were many troubling factors that brought me to the Dark Arts, and it was the lethal combination of them all that set me on the wrong path."

Hermione was completely wrapped up in Snape's words, which, in her heart, felt brutally candid and refreshingly honest. Fully grasping the magnitude of the wizard's confessions was difficult. He was blunt without being excessive about the details, and spoke with frankness and assertiveness, as if he had nothing to hide. Hermione found herself growing more appreciative of the man's efforts, heavily engrossed in what he was sharing—for her ears only—and, though her mind was spinning with more questions, she didn't want to interrupt. Not just yet.

"I have already mentioned briefly my unhappy childhood, my isolation, and the fact that I had very little social interaction with others. I was relentlessly teased and rejected, and I allowed my bitterness and resentment to consume me; the Darks Arts fueled that rage, more or less, and the only human comfort I found was with others in my house. They were the only group who didn't rebuff me, but I wasn't socially accepted by them either. Most of them were _indifferent_ towards me.

"Still, it gave me a considerable advantage over my enemies. It gave me a power, knowing what I knew, that my foes couldn't match in advanced magic. It gave me _mental strength_; strength I couldn't find in my scrawny, physical form or in standing up to those who belittled me."

"You were bullied then?" Hermione already knew this, but hearing Snape confirm it was disheartening.

Snape's eyes turned into slits. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Snape, please," she urged quietly, "I... I'm so sorry you went through what you did. Obviously I don't know much, but I can imagine it must have been very hard."

Snape threw his mostly consumed cigarette into the snow and stomped on it with his boot. "Don't be," he muttered, not meeting Hermione's gaze, which was now properly forlorn and tragic. "You shouldn't apologize for things that you had nothing to do with."

"I know, Snape, but I... I still _am_ very sorry, all the same."

Snape said nothing back, only crossed his arms and leaned back against the stone wall, staring off again at nothing in particular. Hermione bit her lip and resolved to fill the uncomfortable silence that had fallen upon the atmosphere.

"I think you already know this, but I understand what it's like to be teased. In many ways, I still am, but it was a lot worse before I came here. It doesn't get easier; if anything, I've noticed that—now that I'm almost an adult—it's harder than it ever was. You expect everyone to grow out of it, to mature and sprout a heart and a conscience; at least, that's what _I've_ expected to happen. But they don't always grow up, do they?"

Snape, who hadn't been looking at Hermione, turned his head to study her intricate eyelashes, the roundness of her cheeks and small nose—now red from the bitter frost—and her dainty, pink lips that had morphed into a dejected frown, along with her beautifully woeful eyes.

_She really has matured_, Snape contemplated, before addressing her poignant bit of commentary.

"Indeed. I'm afraid you may find as you go through life, Hermione, that that doesn't improve with age. In many ways, it only gets worse."

"Until I'll eventually turn into a miserable loner like you?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood. She flashed him her warm smile that he immediately gravitated towards without realizing.

"It beats spending your time in the company of irritable, ignorant, debilitating halfwits."

"Oh, my... Well, I really don't want to admit that you're right—"

"Ahhh, but you already do."

Hermione shook her long array of curls. "Fine, I'll give you that, but I don't find it a charming or agreeable alternative, Snape. I'd much prefer the company of others to none at all."

"Well, _you_ talking to no one but yourself would be an exhausting affair, indeed."

"Speak for yourself!" she spat with an affronted gasp, though she hardly felt slighted. "And quit throwing me off topic. Tell me more."

"I thought you weren't going to push me?"

"Only if you cheat by trying to get me off the subject after agreeing to talk about it in the first place."

"There's a contradiction there that I won't acknowledge."

"Bastard," she retorted, before she could stop herself.

Snape's eyes, however, seemed to flicker agreeably in response. "And that's the second time you've used that colorful term on me. So you're a vulgarian, Hermione; it's an interesting surprise."

"Oh, come off it. I am not. Anyway, you don't seem too put out by it."

Snape paid her comment little mind, only loosened his upper shoulders. "Probably because I _am_ a bastard, so the label befits me. I'm not offended."

The way Snape concluded this opinion of himself, so decidedly and without issue, brought Hermione out of her playful attitude. Her face grew serious, her mouth sinking along with her thoughts.

"That's awfully low of you..."

"I believe _you're_ the one who used the idiom, Hermione, and very appropriately, I might add."

"I didn't mean it that way, and you know it."

"Oh? Again, I do not follow."

"You act so outlandishly arrogant most of the time, Snape, but behind the facade you wear, you have such a fiendishly poor opinion of yourself. It's baffling, and I don't know what to make of it."

"Whoever said you _have_ to make anything of it?"

"Because that's what friends are for, isn't it?" she prodded. "Try to understand each other?"

"I don't have friends, mates, chums, however you wish to define them. I wouldn't know what you're talking about."

"That's a tragedy."

"Well, it's the truth."

"You mean to tell me you've never had a single friend in all your life?" Before Hermione could think, she blurted out, "What about Lily?"

The silence that befell them was heightened by Snape's blank stare. The black eyes that routinely captured Hermione's fascination grew cold and removed.

"Don't speak of her to me," he whispered, his tone quite different now, much more calculated than before. It caused Hermione to lean back and swallow her words.

"I meant no offense. I just—"

"Potter told you, didn't he?" Snape sneered and ground his teeth. "_Of course_, why am I even surprised? Spreading his ill-found knowledge like he has the slightest inkling of what he's talking about. He knows nothing about my relations with his mother, and he should keep his bloody trap shut."

"But the memory Harry saw in your Pensieve—"

"So I see that you are as bad as he is." Snape rounded on Hermione in a flash and reared over her with an infuriated glare that reached the back of his eyes. Hermione could do nothing but stare, transfixed and terrified all at once. "You suddenly think you know everything about my relationship with Lily Evans based on _one_ memory, a memory you never even saw for yourself?"

"I'm not presuming to know _anything_ about you, Snape—"

"Oh, sure, indeed! Then why did you bring her up?"

"Only to understand the friendship you had with her after lying to me about having no friends at all."

"I wasn't lying to you when I said I've had no confidantes, Hermione."

"But Lily—"

"Rejected me—_hated_ me, actually—like everyone else! Oh, yes, she may not have at first, but she came to regret the closeness we once shared. I was a doormat used to her academic advantage when it was necessary because she knew I couldn't refuse her, an embarrassment once she made her own set of friends—popular and well-liked by and large—and an unforgivable bastard for a mistake I made; one that allowed her to finally break all ties with me for good!

"Yes, Granger, don't _ever_ presume to know anything about Lily or I, or our past relations with each other. You know _nothing_ about that—_nothing at all_—and that hot-headed, arrogant friend of yours doesn't know a damned thing either."

When Snape fell silent, Hermione did too. All she could do was watch Snape's rage manifest, his quick, uneven breaths hitting her face, and the terrible trembles that had taken hold of his body as his temper ensued. She could see the pain that lay behind the mask again, and it was difficult to bear.

Without hesitation, Hermione reached out and took hold of Snape's quivering arms. His anger was far too embedded now for him to consider anything else that was happening, so he didn't even flinch. He stared down at the young lady desperate to reach him.

"Snape," Hermione said in the gentlest way she knew how, "I'm not out to prove you wrong, or to assume that I know anything about your past. It's obviously a very complicated and painful history. I meant you no disrespect by asking.

"I'm just trying to understand how you've come to think so little of yourself. It's admittedly shocking for me to hear, and I only asked about Lily out of interest, _not spite_. I'm not out to get you, Snape. Believe it or not, not everyone's like that. You seem to think so about me, but it isn't true. Please don't take my inquiry as a smack down. I _never_ meant to hurt you by mentioning Lily, and I _never_ would have brought her up if I knew you'd react this way..."

It was a long time before Snape finally spoke, and it seemed to take a great deal of effort for him to back away from her. She could comprehend the newfound fatigue in his body language and the depleted vitality in his eyes.

After adjusting a few of the buttons along the front of his coat, Snape grunted and gave her an acidic look. "You've interrogated me enough for one day, Miss—"

"_Please, Snape_—"

"—Granger. I will take my leave."

Hermione stumbled forward as Snape reached for the door handle. "But...! Your cloak...!"

Snape shot her an expression of indifference, and it deeply wounded Hermione to see the walls back in place again. "You may return it to me later. For now, I wish to be alone."

With that, Snape disappeared beyond the door, leaving Hermione alone on the icy rooftop with nothing but the chilly breeze for comfort, and that only made her feel much worse. She instinctively wrapped the man's cloak closer around herself and bent her nose into the fabric, catching a whiff of Snape's musky scent, mixed with the daily Potion-making spices and herbs he worked with. Her frown deepened and without awareness, a single teardrop cascaded down her frigid cheek and onto the fabric that wasn't her own.

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**A/N #2: Filling in the gaps of Snape's backstory is deliciously fun to write, so I hope you liked this bit.  
**

**There are some wonderful photomanips from this series made by the very talented piccolascintilla that are available to view on Tumblr. Be sure to check out her work! They include a few from the original _Unquestionable Love_, but also a very lovely piece from Chapter 14 of Severus and Hermione attending midnight mass. **

**The links are available under my Profile and available to view in the Gallery of The Snapes' interactive blog here: tumblr . com [slash] thesnapes [slash] gallery  
**


	16. Trustworthy

**A/N: Some Horcruxes 101 here. All right, not really, but there's some talk of _that_ in this chapter.  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

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**Chapter 16: Trustworthy**

Snape was not nearly as open—for him, anyhow—as he had been prior to their conversation on the rooftop, and the bright witch found herself trying to re-instill the confidence that she would eventually get back into the wizard's good graces.

_Was I ever in his good graces to begin with?_

Hermione let out a prolonged sigh and hurled herself onto her bed, ignoring the latest owls that had arrived from Harry, Ginny, and even the twins, begging her to return to the Burrow to celebrate the New Year together. She had ignored every owl that came in the four or five days that had transpired since Christmas, though Harry's latest correspondence regarding Draco was particularly interesting.

_A vanishing cabinet. I wonder if that's what Draco and Snape were discussing when I barged in on them... Stop it, Hermione! Don't make assumptions, remember? Look where it got you last time._

After about an hour of trying to distract herself with a bit of light reading, Hermione threw her book down and got up. Crookshanks, however, resigned himself to staying put at the edge of her bed, sprawled out on his back in the perfect position to receive some proper belly rubs.

"Oh, don't get up for my benefit," Hermione tittered and stroked the feline's stomach as he purred loudly in gratitude. "I'm hungry; time to raid the kitchen."

Crookshanks perked his head up and meowed as Hermione reached the door, seemingly trying to relay an important message to his mistress, who turned around and eyed him curiously. "Oh, Crooks, nothing will happen this time. I'll be extra careful." Crookshanks meowed, sniffed the air, and then rolled onto his back again, almost as an act of defeat. "And I'll bring you some warm milk, too," she teased lightly before shutting the door.

Hermione smiled as she made her way out into the darkness of Hogwarts castle. Many of the torches that lined the corridors were finally dying. It was well past midnight and probably not the best time for a stroll, but Hermione willed herself not to care. She already had detention with Professor Snape for an undisclosed period of time; if he caught her out of bed, so be it. She was starving, and nothing would deter her deprived stomach from the sustenance it was begging for.

Hermione wandered the halls, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of their previous conversation when she unexpectedly ran right into Snape, nearly toppling over before catching her balance.

"Hermione!" Snape growled, reverting back to a first name address. Her spirits livened; she couldn't help it.

"Sorry, I didn't see you! What are you—"

"Doing here? I'm on patrol tonight, unlike _you_, who has no business being out of bed at this time of night."

"I'm practically an adult!"

"And still can't manage to follow the rules, evidently."

Hermione's eyebrows narrowed. "Yes, I can, but I was hungry."

Snape arched one of his eyebrows at her. "Again?"

"Yes."

"And you still decided to take your chances of sneaking down to the Hogwarts kitchens?"

"Yes."

"Despite having already been reprimanded before, and after receiving a fifty point deduction from your house?"

"...Yes."

"You _do_ lack common sense, Hermione. It is worrisome."

"_Oh, come off it!_ I'm starving, Snape! Please? I haven't eaten anything since this morning. And my cat, erm, needs some warm milk. He's just as hungry as I am."

Hermione hated begging before the miserable louse like a five-year-old, but she really _was_ hungry, and it was putting her in a rotten mood. She was, therefore, surprised when Snape sighed and motioned her to follow him with a quick toss of his head.

When they reached the D.A.D.A. classroom, he opened the door and gestured for her to go inside. "I will fetch a meal for you, and some milk for your cat, but I mean it, Hermione: Hogwarts is no place to wander about at night, no matter how protected you may feel. Considering the _circumstances_ of late, you should be less careless."

Hermione felt her cheeks radiating with heat and swiftly turned away. "All right. And thank you, Snape."

She meandered into the gloomy room, which contained only one or two lit candles, and spun around just as Snape was closing the door. His footsteps echoed along the stone floors before dying away. Hermione instantly took out her wand and brought some more torches on the walls to life, adding more light to the room. Her eyes came to rest on the professor's desk, which was in more disarray than she was accustomed to seeing. Snape was normally very orderly and tidy, but tonight there were various books opened and thrown about, with pieces of parchment scattered everywhere. A solitary candle burned at the edge of his work space, making it difficult to read, write, or do much of anything.

Hermione's inquisitiveness quickly won out, and she strolled over to Snape's desk, leaning over to inspect the various contents open to her perusal. She found a few lists of ingredients for his latest research on the anti-venom elixir, and a strange assortment of scribbled words such as: _Lestrange, locket, Room of Requirement, Salazar Slytherin_. There were only a handful that her eyes managed to scan amongst the shadows, and one word in particular that wasn't scratched out or followed by a question mark but circled emphatically: _Sword of Godric Gryffindor_.

_What the hell? Possible Horcruxes? Is that what these are? But how could the sword be a Horcrux? That's ridiculous. Salazar Slytherin? What about him, except perhaps something in the Room of Requirement?_

Hermione hadn't heard Snape reenter the room and suddenly heard the rumble of his deep purr next to her ear. "Intrigued, are we?"

Hermione gave a sharp intake of breath and bounced back, panting hard. "Jesus! _Merlin!_ For goodness' sake, _would you stop doing that?_"

Snape appeared surprisingly unruffled, and his reply came out bored and unfazed. "You were invading my things. I have every right to intervene when it comes to my possessions and you're snooping about where it isn't warranted."

"I wasn't snooping," she sniped breathlessly, knowing how irrevocably stupid that sounded.

"_Indeed_."

"What is all this?"

"That's none of your concern, is it?"

"Oh, I'd like to think it _is!_" Hermione laced her arms over her chest with her jaw set. "After all, you left it all out in the open for me to find. That's not _my_ fault."

Snape grumbled under his breath and flicked his wrist, levitating a dish to the opposite end of his desk. Hermione hadn't noticed the meal that awaited her, but her eyes were immediately consumed by the delicious contents, as was her nose: buttered bread, Stilton cheese, raw onion, sliced apples, and a mug of what she presumed was cider. Her mouth watered at the sight of it and, for a split second, she forgot that she was in the midst of a tiff and scooted around him to get to her plate.

"Easy, Granger," Snape snorted, bringing a chair around for her with his wand.

He watched with secretive mirth as she plopped herself down and took a large swig of the cider, followed by an overstuffed bite of her sandwich. She was too hungry to take notice of the fact that Snape was observing her rather poor eating manners.

"How utterly revolting," he commented after taking a seat. "With manners like that, you should perform in the town square in Hogsmeade."

"Sowwy, is it puffing you oaf?"

Her eyes were practically slits as she stared him down across the table, purposely taking another large bite without removing her vindictive sneer. Her cheeks were enlarged and filled to the brim with food.

"It is, yes," Severus countered, diverting his gaze to the parchment in front of him. "You eat like a sailor."

After swallowing, Hermione met his remark with one of her own. "And _you_ eat like a neurotic mouse."

A crease formed between his eyes. "Pardon?"

"Oh, don't be coy! I've seen you picking at your food numerous times in the Great Hall, taking the daintiest, littlest bites and moving your food around your plate a gazillion times before you actually sink your teeth into anything. And people call _me_ obsessive-compulsive! _Honestly!_"

Snape didn't retort but projected a rather lighthearted smirk as he scribbled something onto a piece of parchment. As brief as the image may have been, it still perked Hermione up, and she easily found herself smiling back, even with a mouth full of food.

"So are you going to answer my question?"

"And what was that exactly? I can't recall."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What is all that? 'Vault,' 'Salazar Slytherin,' 'the Sword of Gryffindor'?"

As subtle as Snape could be, the very slight changes in his body language were becoming easier for the clever witch to read, and she saw his shoulders hunch beneath his coat and the distinctive muscle in his cheek twitch.

It confirmed that she was certainly on to something, and she decided to be bold and ask him outright. "Are you researching Horcruxes, Snape?"

Snape paused before answering. "And what if I am?"

"Well, I'd love to know what you've found out, since this all involves Harry. The Room of Requirement, for instance. Do you believe something that belonged to Salazar Slytherin was made into a Horcrux and is hidden in there?"

"No."

"Oh... Well, Lestrange. What about that? It's not Bellatrix, is it?"

"Perhaps..."

"_Perhaps?_ What do you mean? Do you know something about Bellatrix Lestrange? Is she keeping a part of Voldemort's soul locked away in her vault at Gringotts?"

The idea sounded completely absurd coming out of Hermione's mouth, and yet, she couldn't help but sense a connection. She could decipher in Snape's eyes well enough that she was getting close.

"Whether it would be Bellatrix's or someone else's vault, Gringotts would certainly be a logical place to hide a Horcrux. No one would have access to it; it's virtually impossible to break into, so it would be a likely place to hide something of such value."

"Yes." Hermione's mouth drooped into a wounded grimace. "Voldemort's soul is definitely something of _value_."

"I think my Slytherin nature is starting to rub off on you."

"You're probably right." Hermione let out a shudder that shook her entire upper body. "Bellatrix... Killing Sirius like that... Wicked, evil wench."

Hermione didn't notice Snape's nostrils flare at the mention of Harry's godfather. Sirius Black would find no sympathy from Severus Snape, even if he were dead.

"Yes," he managed through clenched teeth, "wicked, indeed."

"The Sword of Gryffindor... How could _that_ possibly be a Horcrux? Harry killed the Basilisk with it in the Chamber of Secrets. It doesn't make any sense."

"I don't believe it to be a Horcrux."

Hermione crinkled her brow. "Then what?"

"What do _you_ think?"

Hermione wanted to gripe at him for toying with her yet again, but her mind began to race anyhow. _Damn him!_ After a short interlude of silence, her face lit up with an idea. "It could destroy them, couldn't it? There must be something in the sword, something similar to the..._ Yes, of course!_ Although... Wait, no, that sounds ludicrous."

"Do enlighten me." Severus lay down his quill and pressed his hands together on top of his desk, waiting.

"Erm, well, it's kind of silly."

"Perhaps, or perhaps not. I will determine that."

Hermione cradled her mug in her hands and bit her lip. "Um, could it be laced with Basilisk venom? I - I don't really know how the Basilisk could be destroyed by its own venom within a sword but... Since that was how Harry was able to destroy the _diary_, with one of the snake's fangs, it would seem plausible, maybe?"

"Impressive. _Very impressive_."

"Are you mocking me, Snape?"

"No, not at all."

"You sound like it. I suppose you're laughing at me on the inside, though I can't imagine you laughing at all. It's too disturbing."

This time, Snape simpered at her without issue. "I assure you, Hermione, I'm _not_ laughing at you. In fact, I share your theory on the sword. I believe it very well could destroy the Horcruxes."

_The Hufflepuff House Cup, Marvolo's ring... Potter should have been informed of all this ages ago; Hermione, too. This is all such a ridiculous, twisted charade. If only... If only I could just..._

"Snape?"

Snape fluttered his eyelashes and regained his focus. "Hmm?"

"Are you all right?" She was wearing a strange look, her eyes scanning his with marked concern.

"I'm fine."

"Well, here." Hermione broke off a chunk of her buttered sandwich and cheese and extended her arm across the professor's desk to prop it on top of his parchment.

Snape snarled, annoyed. "You've just gotten crumbs all over my work." He promptly vanished them with a flick of his wand.

"I don't care. You should eat something. Frankly, you're looking a bit, erm, haggard these days..."

"_Why, thank you_."

"I'm serious. You don't look well."

"Since when is that any concern of yours?"

"Since we became friends."

"_Oh, I see_."

"Quit with the sarcasm, would you? It's one 'o clock in the morning. Give it a rest."

Snape wanted to growl but resisted the urge for once. He inched the food back towards Hermione, who opened her mouth to protest his move. "Thank you, Hermione, but I'm not hungry. I can get a meal of my own if I so desire."

Hermione frowned, disappointed. "It's not a polite gesture, Snape. You really _should_ take better care of yourself."

Snape stared at her without blinking. Her words sounded sincere enough, but he wasn't accustomed to such fussiness or acts of generosity. It made him visibly uneasy and, therefore, frustrated and quick to temper.

"I take care of myself well enough, Hermione. You needn't concern yourself. Now finish your sandwich and go back to your dormitory. It's late, and I've grown tired of your presence."

Hermione smiled wryly. "No, you haven't."

Snape looked away to ink his feathered quill. "You flatter yourself far too much."

"Really? I don't think so..."

"Of course you don't."

"Aren't you going to bed? It's one in the morning."

"You've already enlightened me as to the hour. And anyway, I cannot. I'm still on patrol, actually, and you've forced me to neglect my duties."

"My apologies, sir."

"I'll quit being sarcastic once you cease being fresh with me."

Hermione's smile broadened, detecting no bite to his threat. "In that case, we'll both be waiting a long time, I would imagine."

"Indeed."

Hermione watched him considerately for a while. She suspected he probably was aware that she was staring at him, but, for a change, remained surprisingly unbothered.

"Do you always make a habit of avoiding people's questions?"

"Only when they're obnoxious and tediously unjustified."

"You don't sleep, do you?"

Snape growled rather loudly, aggravated with Hermione's prodding. "So what if I don't?"

"Well, it isn't good for you, for one thing. Has it always been like that for you?"

"I'm an insomniac, Hermione. I think you've already figured that out on your own. I haven't attained the wonderfully mocking nickname 'Bat of the Dungeons' for nothing."

Hermione hated hearing Severus use the mocking phrase her friends so often used on him. The guilt twisting her stomach was also practically unbearable.

"Not everyone calls you that," she tried to reassure him, albeit very quietly.

Snape didn't give any indication of concern, but Hermione suspected otherwise. "No, scratch that," he replied. "Isn't there some rumor flying around that I'm a vampire?"

At this, Hermione giggled. "Kind of, but that's been going around for years, too, Snape."

"Well, there you have it. I'm relieved that my insomnia—_myself_, rather—gets a laugh at other people's expense. Everybody wins."

Snape wasn't aware of the severe frown Hermione now wore. She couldn't tear her eyes away and felt suddenly raw.

"Snape," she whispered, sounding crestfallen.

He ignored her touch of empathy, continuing to write with his head bent. "So why do you ask?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "I wish you wouldn't dismiss me when I'm being sincere. How long has this been going on for you?"

"As long as I can remember."

"Really? I'm sorry to hear that."

"Why are you apologizing again?"

"I mean it, Snape! What about a Sleeping Draught? Or even a Draught of the Living Dead? You know they make ones that specifically last only a few hours."

"Sleeping Draughts do nothing for me; my mind and body have grown too immune to the contents. I've concocted variations of my own, and they work some of the time—"

"Some of the time? That's not very encour—"

"And I don't wish to put myself into a coma, thank you, so I'll forgo your second suggestion."

"It might help you get some rest though. It's not a bad idea, Snape."

"No, I daresay it isn't, but I won't be doing so, so bugger off."

Hermione shook her head and stifled a laugh. "Merlin, you really _are_ a stubborn sod."

"That's obliging of you, Hermione. Thank you."

"Well, eat the sandwich, will you? It's delicious, and you'll regret it later if you don't eat something."

Hermione rose from her chair and didn't catch the muffled "I doubt it" that Snape mumbled, followed by a louder, "And take that milk carton with you for your bloody cat. I left it by the door. You'll need to reheat it, of course."

"I'll leave when you've eaten that sandwich," she challenged.

Snape tentatively peered up from his work and glowered at her in a childlike manner that Hermione found endearing. "You will do no such thing. Go to bed."

"No."

"Don't test me, Granger."

"Hermione, remember? And I wouldn't dare. I learned that a long time ago."

For an agonizingly long moment, they stared at one another, neither backing down from the other. But finally, Snape grew impatient. He snarled in an extremely irritated fashion and succumbed to Hermione's will, taking the piece of her uneaten sandwich she had given him. He brought it to his mouth with the most displeased scowl he could muster.

"There." Hermione returned his grimace with a grin. "That's not so bad, is it?"

"If you have simple, mundane taste buds, then yes, it is satisfactory."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're as bad as a five-year-old."

"And you're getting far too bold."

"Does it upset you that no one ever points out your poor manners but me?"

"My irrevocable flaws have been pointed out to me my entire life," Snape returned delicately, his remark cutting the atmosphere like a knife. "I do not need _your_ constant reminders as well, thank you very much."

Hermione's amiable smile turned downcast. "Snape, I didn't mean it to be cruel..."

Snape sighed, the harsh lines on his face softening against the dim candlelight. "It's late. I'll escort you back to your dormitory."

At this, Hermione perked up. "Oh! Um, no, you don't have to—"

"Seeing as you have a regular knack for not heeding the school rules, or _my_ warnings for that matter, I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower myself."

"You make me sound—"

"Like a five-year-old?" Snape got to his feet and took a moment to adjust the cloak around his shoulders. "Serves you right; you don't listen."

Hermione didn't argue but attempted to keep pace as they strode out of the classroom and back to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione struggled with the carton of milk, trying not to spill it as she half ran alongside Snape in silence.

Once they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was properly snoozing and unaware of their presence, Hermione turned to Snape to say goodnight, but he was staring at her feet. "I believe that feline is yours?"

Hermione followed the trail of the wizard's eyes and was shocked to find the orange half-Kneazle spread out over her feet. He beckoned to his mistress with a soft meow, licking his lips at the milk carton she held in her hand.

"Crooks! What on earth are you doing out here?"

She reached down, placed the carton on the stone floor, and brought the cat into her arms with ease. Crookshanks, however, had quickly turned his attention to the foreboding figure in their presence. His bright eyes scrutinized Snape carefully.

"You are too smart for your own good, you know that?" she chuckled, snuggling her face up against his.

Snape, watching the exchange with a curious expression, slowly extended his hand, but Hermione jerked. "Sir, I wouldn't do that. He's very leery of strangers and has quite an aggressive streak to him if you get too close."

"I believe he finds me trustworthy. You needn't be alarmed."

Hermione felt slightly affronted by such self-assurance. "_Oh?_" she bated, but then her eyes widened when Crookshanks reached out his paw and tapped Snape's elegant fingers, giving him a friendly meow. Then he abruptly sprung out of Hermione's arms.

"_Crooks!_" she startled, but, to her surprise, the feline was now at Snape's feet, wedging himself in between the man's legs, rubbing his furry head against one of his boots with another gentle meow.

Snape smirked, though his hair was now disguising most of his face, and bent down to scoop the cat up into his arms with ease. Hermione watched the chain of events in shock as Snape proceeded to stroke Crookshank's back in a graceful fashion. Crookshanks purred loudly in gratitude, closing his eyes, relishing receiving such pampering.

"He never lets people do that," Hermione murmured, awestruck. "Ron can't get anywhere near him, and I think he trusts Harry, but Harry never lets himself get too close. He doesn't usually allow anyone to hold him but me..."

"Then I am honored."

There was a glint in Snape's eyes when he momentarily glanced from the cat to her. Hermione's breath stalled before she managed a returning smile.

"I suppose this makes you chums then."

Snape gave Crookshanks an admirable regard that Hermione found captivating. It was unusual and admittedly adorable.

"If so, then we make the perfect match. Your cat doesn't like people, and neither do I."

"In that case, you'll get along famously."

Severus snorted. "Actually, I'm highly allergic."

"_Oh?_" Her eyes expanded with worry. "Oh dear, then you'd better hand him back—"

"It's all right," he assured her. "I take a daily tonic. How else could I withstand being around countless students with revolting cat hairs all over their robes, yours included?" Hermione glanced down at her casual wardrobe suspiciously, and Snape reacted with a deep grunt that sounded almost like an actual laugh to Hermione. "I'm normally fine as long as the exposure isn't too overbearing."

"Well, then hand him over, for Merlin's sake! I don't need a snarkier, sneezing professor tomorrow. You're difficult enough to tolerate as it is, without being sick."

"It takes one to know one," he offered back with a devilish simper.

"Oh, well spotted!"

Snape handed Crookshanks back into Hermione's care. The Gryffindor whipped out her wand and without asking, muttered a disinfectant charm that caused all the orange hairs along the front of Snape's coat to vanish.

He hissed, annoyed. "I could have done that myself."

"Of course you could. I was just trying to be helpful."

"You _are_ growing too bold."

"I'll take my chances."

"You shouldn't push your luck."

"With you? Certainly not."

"You're really _not_ as amusing as you think you are," Snape prodded with narrowed eyes.

Hermione giggled, and Crookshanks let out a resounding meow. "I know, but I certainly have better humor than you."

Again, another long stare passed between them. Snape finally cleared his throat and straightened, glancing from the contented cat to her. "I will see you tomorrow then."

"And what will I be learning tomorrow?"

"Legilimency and some more Occlumency. You need further practice."

Hermione frowned. "I thought I was getting pretty good at Occlumency."

"You're _sufficient_, Hermione, but there is always room for improvement, and you've only had a few lessons so far."

"Oh, very well," she sighed.

Snape extended his index finger to stroke the bottom of Crookshank's chin. The tiny, half smile that curled his lips as he did so distracted Hermione's attention, and she unconsciously bit her lip, enraptured. It was all rather sweet, if the term could even be applied to the man.

"Good night, Hermione." Snape nodded his head and a few stray hairs fell into his face, softening his otherwise striking features.

"Good night, Snape." Hermione lingered by the Fat Lady's portrait, watching as Snape strode away, his rippling robes vanishing into the shadows at the end of the corridor. "Well, Crooks," she whispered into the feline's ear, "if you find Severus Snape trustworthy, I suppose I no longer have an excuse _not_ to trust him..."

* * *

"So, Severus, how are things progressing?"

"Fine and dandy, Albus."

"Well, you do seem a bit more _optimistic_ as of late..."

"Don't get any ideas!" Severus nastily returned, shooting him a deathly glare as he passed the Headmaster's desk; he had been pacing for nearly an hour in Dumbledore's office, without much progress on their discussion. "What you are doing to me—what you are forcing me to do to _her_—will damage her considerably. Do you even care?"

"Of course I care, Severus. Please refrain from being so hostile. We've had this discussion many times. She's the strongest link to Harry, and the most reliable bait for the Dark Lord. There's nothing for it, I'm afraid."

"I suppose you expect her to weasel her way out of this somehow?"

"No... I expect _you_ to help her, Severus."

"And what if I can't? What if it's too great a risk? I've presented you with these obstacles many times, Albus. Would you listen to me? This won't go as planned, I guarantee it. Her life is at stake—"

"Miss Granger is a more capable witch than you give her—"

"_Is that what you tell yourself?_" Severus threw back his robes with one dramatic swoop and stared the old wizard down, his black eyes smoldering in unequivocal fury. "Is that how you're able to lay your head down and rest at night?"

"I don't reassure myself of anything." His steel blue eyes peered up at Severus over his wire-rimmed glasses in a terribly perceptive manner that made the Potions Master cringe. "I know there is great personal risk involved here; however, it is so for _everyone_, not just _her_. There are much bigger things in motion. One girl—"

"_She's still a person, Albus!_ She's one of ours! You can't possibly think that—"

"I see no reason to discuss this anymore, Severus." The severity of Dumbledore's tone was unusual and did not match his normally kindhearted face. "We must put our faith in Miss Granger's abilities, and your assistance can only help her improve. That is all we can hope for now."

"It is _not_ all! I don't think you grasp what the Death Eaters are capable of, Albus; what they'll do to her—"

"You must ensure that they don't."

"I can't guarantee that, and you know it!"

"You knew the gamble we'd be taking on Miss Granger two years ago, Severus, after Voldemort first expressed interest in the girl. That hasn't changed, and there is nothing you can do to persuade him otherwise, so we _must_ pursue his course of action. There's nothing else for it. If we don't lure the Dark Lord into our trap, then Potter dies, and so will she."

"She'll die anyway!"

"If she does, then it will have been for the greater good."

"The greater good?" Severus clenched his fists, the agonizing trembling which had taken hold trickled up his arms and across his chest, making his entire body vibrate with rage. "_The greater good?_ At what expense is that excuse permissible anymore, Albus? When will you ever stop toying with these children's lives? _With mine?_"

"Don't, Severus."

The twinkling in Dumbledore's eyes, usually warm and inviting, was now frigid and hostile. Severus had seen that disturbing change before, many years ago, when he had come to the great wizard at the expense of his own life, to warn him about the Potters, and to beg for Lily's life.

"I've grown tired of this." Severus loosened his clenched hands as what little color in his cheeks drained away. "You risk too much. You place too much on my shoulders. I can't... I can't do this anymore."

"Then you've forfeited your life, Harry's, _and_ Miss Granger's to the Dark Lord, and all those whom you despise. Are you willing to live with that reality, Severus? If you can, then I have misjudged your character _terribly_."

"You won't live to see the outcome of this war, Albus," Severus returned, his voice now distant. "You will be long gone before I am able to set things right, if I can at all. You have no right..." His words trailed off, his low baritone cracking beneath the surface of his hard exterior. "You have no right to use me for whatever ends you deem necessary. Not me, not Potter, not anyone. _You_ have no right to claim our lives as your investments, to direct, control, and dispose of as you see fit. _You have no right_..."

"Enough, Severus." Dumbledore calmly got to his feet with a stern, determined grimace that oozed antagonism. "I will not tolerate this anymore, and I need you to focus. You made your choices long ago. If you back out of your promises now, Lily's son dies, and so do his friends."

Severus tightened his jaw and turned away, staring up at the portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses, most of whom were stirring from sleep or already awake and murmuring to each other about the conversation taking place. "I must go."

"Severus—"

"You're right, Albus. _Enough_."

Severus stalked out of Dumbledore's office before the aged wizard could stop him and slammed the door on his way out. The echo of his anger ricocheted off the walls and lingered in the air. Dumbledore could only stare on at the spot where the Potions Master disappeared.

Then one of the portraits, Armando Dippet, a feeble-looking man with a white beard and only a few wisps on his balding scalp, peered down at the current Headmaster and shook his head. "Albus, you _do_ place far too much on him. The poor man's barely slept in sixteen years."

"That's of his own doing, Dippet," said one of the other portraits, Phineas Black. "The Slytherin chose his path long ago, and he needs to honor the promises he's made."

"But at the expense of his health? Albus, really, you are too hard on him. Give the poor fellow a break."

"_A break?_" Black let out a laugh that bordered on mockery. "We will soon be at war, Dippet! There is no time for breaks! For anyone!"

Several other portraits piped up and began arguing back and forth. Dumbledore collapsed into his chair and called for silence.

"Dippet is right. I know I've been pushing Severus far too hard for too long, but he's the only man I trust to do what needs to be done. No one else could do what is necessary; no one else would dare. Not Minerva, not Filius, not anyone. Severus must fulfill the pledges he's made, or Harry and the entire wizarding world is doomed. There is a lot more at stake than Severus's life, Dippet, and he knows that. He won't go against his word."

"You _still_ find him trustworthy, Albus?"

Black looked flabbergasted as his and Dumbledore's eyes met. The former and current Headmasters seemed to view each other anew, eye-to-eye.

"Phineas," Dumbledore replied calmly, "I trust Severus with my life. It is high time you trusted him as well. When I am gone, he'll need you. All of you."

* * *

**A/N #2: If you've been following the Snapes on Tumblr, the cat bit may have been old news to you. I'm trying to weave the stories and the blog together in a cohesive way so that they all mesh well together. **

**I'm not much of a cat person and really didn't pay much mind to Crookshanks in the books, but it's admittedly fun adding him to the mix and giving him a bit of a personality in this. You'll see more of him in upcoming chapters.  
**

** A very long chapter with further progress awaits next time...**


	17. An Unresolved New Year

**A/N: A lengthy chapter with lots of "stuff" going on. I hope you find the various happenings in this installment interesting...  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 17: An Unresolved New Year**

The days following Christmas had seen Hermione in Snape's classroom or office every day, taking up most of the professor's time, but he seemed surprisingly unbothered by her disruptions, despite the recent hiccup in their discussions, and even encouraged her return, neither of which escaped Hermione's astute awareness.

Hermione awoke early New Year's Eve, dressed herself accordingly, and left her room with the intention of seeing Snape for her latest Legilimency and Occlumency lessons. She knew it was far earlier than she needed to be up—the sun was only just peeking over the horizon—but she knew Snape would be awake and ready, and she wasn't about to wait.

As she exited Gryffindor Tower, Hermione was met by a furry companion at her feet. "Crooks!" she exclaimed, nearly tripping over the cat as he weaved in between her legs. "Oh, for goodness' sake, how'd you get out here again?"

Crookshanks stared up at her complacently and uttered an emphatic meow. Hermione placed her hands on her hips and gave the orange feline a stern frown.

"You followed me, didn't you?"

Another lower, weaker meow returned her question. Hermione shook her head of thick curls and promptly brought the cat into her arms.

"Very well, we'll take our chances and see if Snape will have you. If not, you need to bugger off, all right? I don't need him any more temperamental than he already is. And I don't want to make the poor man sick either."

Crookshanks meowed a third time in seeming understanding and together they made their way to the D.A.D.A classroom. "He insisted on accompanying me this morning," Hermione explained when she received Snape's puzzling stare as she entered his classroom. "I'm afraid he's taken a liking to you."

"That is most unfortunate, indeed."

Hermione could tell that Snape's trademark scowl didn't quite reach his eyes, which received Crookshanks with unnatural warmth. Determining that it was safe to unleash the feline, Hermione perched him on Snape's desk, and Crookshanks immediately gravitated towards the pallid, dangerous-looking figure sitting across from him. He strode right over the parchment Snape was writing on and nudged the wizard underneath his chin most affectionately.

"Wow, he really _does_ like you," Hermione chuckled. "This is a miracle. He doesn't like anyone. Not even my parents."

"I'm flattered," Snape wryly smirked and stroked behind Crookshank's ears. The feline was tickled pink and outstretched himself beneath the professor, rolling onto his back to receive more stroking. "I can see you are spoiled rotten, too," Snape sneered as he brought his hand around to rub Crookshank's belly accordingly.

"He is, I'm afraid," Hermione laughed, watching the curious exchange with a warmhearted grin before a question sprung to mind. "Did you ever have a cat?"

"Yes, when I was young."

"Oh? Were you allergic then?"

"Yes. My mother tried to sneak me a tonic every once in a while because I was desperate to keep her—Billie was her name—but my father wouldn't have it."

Hermione angled her head, intrigued. "Billie?"

Snape surveyed her thoughtfully; it was one of the gentlest expressions she had ever seen, and the sight made her breath stop. "Yes... After Billie Holiday." When Hermione only stared, unknowing, a crease grew between Snape's eyes. "Billie Holiday? The legendary jazz singer? _The Very Thought of You? Embraceable You?_"

"Um, sorry, no... She must have been way before my time."

At this teasing slight, Snape smirked. "She was well before _my_ time, too. My mother loved her; used to play her records all the time. They grew on me, and I named my cat Billie, partly to appease her and make her happy."

Hermione returned Snape's considerate regard. "And your father?"

A flicker of bitterness emerged before it died away just as quickly. "He disliked Billie, but he disliked my medical issues far more."

Hermione's smile disappeared. The more hints Snape dropped about his childhood, the worse it seemed. "He - He made you suffer?"

Snape seemed a little too interested in keeping his focus on Crookshanks instead of her as he answered in a monotone voice, "He did, yes. I dealt with my allergies for a while, until my mother couldn't take it anymore and sent the cat away. I'm deathly allergic without a tonic, and I'm afraid that's never lessened. My symptoms put me in hospital several times and only infuriated my father for having to pay for my medical expenses. The louse wouldn't have had to had he simply allowed my mother to see to my condition."

"Gosh... I'm so sor—"

"No apologies, Hermione, remember?"

"Um, yes, sir." Hermione shifted, feeling utterly terrible for him. His father sounded like a truly awful character. "Well, your allergy sounds serious, Snape. Are you sure Crooks won't be a nuisance? I don't want you to suffer on his account. He gets his way far too much as it is."

"No, it isn't a nuisance."

Crookshanks meowed at Hermione, bringing the matter to a close. He scooted out of Snape's grasp and took a seat at the end of his desk, next to a pile of ungraded essays, and plopped himself down comfortably.

"Now then, we should get started. We'll begin with the basics of Legilimency and see how the morning fares."

"All right. And then I get to ask you more questions."

Snape halted while rising from his chair. "And why is that?"

"I have more questions about the books you gave me."

"More about _me_, from the sounds of it."

"Well, yes, kind of. You're more interesting than meets the eye."

"You make me sound like a riddle. I'm not that complicated, Granger."

Hermione tapered her eyebrows. "You're lying, Snape."

A faint hiss echoed from Snape's side of the table, but she willfully ignored it. Neither wasted any more time, and Snape went straight to the heart of the matter. Throughout the lesson, Hermione made minor but considerable progress. She could tell Snape was more impressed by her abilities than he ever let on. Around noon, she had successfully managed a short mind conversation but hadn't felt so drained in a long time.

"That's exhausting," Hermione heaved as she sank into the seat opposite his desk.

"It's supposed to be." Snape smoothed out the bottom of his cloak to sit down. "Legilimency and Occlumency are not for the faint of heart, Hermione. It's very advanced magic; not many can perform it, and perform it well."

"How'd I do?"

"Sufficient," he offered after a long pause.

Hermione grumbled and leaned her elbow onto his desk, sinking her head in her palm as Crookshanks slept in the spot he had been in all morning. "That isn't very encouraging. I thought I did pretty well this time."

"You did, and are much better than many, I'll give you that, but you're not close to the level I'd like you to be."

"And what unattainable level is that?"

Snape, who had taken possession of his quill, froze, a challenging gleam emerging in his eyes. "I'd like to see you carry on an entire day's worth of discussions with me without mentally, physically, or emotionally exhausting yourself, and without sustaining any side effects from the length of time you'd be doing so."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "_What?_ That's impossible!"

"No, it isn't."

"Of course it isn't for _you_ because you've done it—"

"Many times."

"Show me!"

Snape's face contorted. "You want me to carry on a conversation with you using Legilimency?"

"Yes! For the rest of the day."

Snape mumbled something under his breath, but when he saw the provoking smile on Hermione's lips, he threw down his quill, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. _Very well, Granger._

"For the whole day."

_For the whole day_, he repeated in her mind.

His silky smooth voice, so close, made Hermione's spine tingle. She had reacted that way all morning, and secretly hoped Severus wasn't using Occlumency on her at the same time, or this was going to turn into a very awkward situation.

"Well, should we take lunch here or in the Great Hall? I don't intend to let you get off easy. I have lots of questions to ask."

Snape groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose before meeting her gaze again. _Here. I don't need other dunderheads overhearing our conversation, not that they'll hear me. They'll simply think you've gone round the bend. I have a feeling most of your questions will be personal and uncomfortable enough for me anyhow; no need to bring anyone else's ears unwillingly into our conversation._

"What a sour outlook. Usually one looks_ forward_ to conversing with friends."

_Yes, well, I still haven't quite decided if you're my friend or not, Granger._

"_Hermione!_" she corrected testily. "And I _am_ your friend. You wouldn't let me get away with calling you a bastard if I wasn't."

_You presume too much. Perhaps I'm toying with you, and thereby playing to your interests..._

Weeks ago, Hermione would have easily questioned that remark, but today she didn't bat an eyelash, stating affirmatively, "You're not, Snape. You just belittle your character when you say such things. I don't want to hear it." Snape drew back, giving her a strange look, and remained silent for a time. Hermione broke it with a prolonged sigh. "Are you going to summon one of the house-elves to bring us lunch? Or should I go down to the Great Hall and get something for us?"

_Whatever happened to S.P.E.W.?_

Hermione startled in her chair. "Oh... So you know about that?"

_Hermione, _everyone_ knows about it, including the staff._

"Yeah, I suppose that would make sense..."

_Why so bashful?_

"I'm not being bashful! I just... I'm surprised you knew about it is all."

_'Knew,' as in the past tense?_

"Well, I seem to have alienated the house-elves. They hate me now."

_And you're surprised by this?_

"I've been trying to help them!"

_Hermione, they don't desire your help. Unless they actually_ feel_ repressed, your efforts are for naught. They enjoy what they do; whether you agree or not is irrelevant._

Hermione stared Snape down reproachfully. "So, I take it you will be summoning a house-elf then?"

_That is generally what I do when I'm hungry._

"But that's wrong!"

_You're not going to convert me, Hermione._

"Ugh, fine!" She threw up her arms, causing Crookshank to awaken with a faint hiss. "I'll go get us something to eat. May I get you anything in particular, your highness?"

Snape smirked in a purposely playful manner that made Hermione's blood boil; only now she knew just how much he was simply teasing her rather than doing so out of spite. _Tea will be sufficient._

"And to eat?"

_I'm not hungry. Get whatever you'd like._

Hermione's grimace softened considerably. "Snape, you really should eat some—"

_If I chose to make you my mother, I would, but I already had one mother and do not require a second. Now go, Hermione, or everything will be cold._

Too mentally weary to argue anymore, Hermione slunk out of Snape's classroom and headed for the Great Hall. Once she was out of sight, Snape blinked several times and brought his hand to the bridge of his nose again, fighting off a splitting headache.

"That's more than enough," he sighed.

His migraine quickly grew worse, but he willed himself to ignore it for the time being. He got to his feet, took a moment to scratch Crookshank's head—who meowed, appeased—and made a circular wave of his arm. One of the shutters on the opposite end of the room opened a crack, letting a pool of natural light into the room.

Snape strolled over to look out onto the school grounds, still covered in snow, with another snowfall cascading, blanketing everything within reach. There Snape stood, his body leaning against the wall as he gazed out at the soft, tumbling snowflakes that made his eyelids heavy.

Instead of closing his eyes, however, his mind began to wander, taking his body with it, and soon he was no longer within the safe confines of Hogwarts castle but somewhere else. Somewhere that felt so tangible he could have reached out and touched his surroundings...

_Severus looked around; it was an exquisite room, to be sure, and whomever it belonged to had one of the gaudiest tastes he had ever seen. Not to Severus's particular liking, of course, but it wasn't half bad. The furniture consisted of rich, earthly colors and dark, fine cherry woods. A fire was roaring in an elegantly carved hearth nearby, filling the room with comfortable, almost sleep-inducing warmth that Severus welcomed. But sleep would not come; not any time soon, or in the near future._

_Another wizard waltzed into the room, and Severus's sharp awareness comprehended where he was at last: Malfoy Manor. It was a room he had never been in before, but the estate was so vast that this wasn't unexpected, no matter how long he had known Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco._

_Lucius was alone when he entered, and as his royal blue robes caught the light of the crackling fireplace, he spun around and shut the door. "Well, she's been taken down to the cellar, but Potter and Weasley should be along soon."_

_"The Dark Lord will still be pleased, Lucius. You have quite the Snatchers."_

_Lucius gave an icy smirk that didn't upset Severus but would have made any other guest shudder. He took a seat in an amber, leather-bound chair and motioned Severus to do the same. Severus made a point of keeping his mind blank and his face unreadable. Even in the presence of an old friend, Severus thought it too much of a risk, but then he also no longer trusted Lucius. No, not anymore..._

_"I can't take credit for Scabior and his gang of ruffians. That must go to my deranged sister-in-law."_

_Severus's mouth altered slightly, but he wasn't about to react. He wasn't convinced that that was how Lucius truly viewed Bellatrix Lestrange anymore. Since her breakout from Azkaban, she seemed to have rekindled an old friendship with Lucius, and he had visibly indulged her far too many times to count._

_"Then Bellatrix has done well," Severus stated, his voice monotone._

_Lucius offered a devilish grin that Severus only returned halfheartedly. "That's something, Severus, coming from_ you._"_

_"Indeed." Pausing to look into the flames licking the hearth, he frowned. "I expect Miss Granger will not sleep well tonight."_

_"No, she won't..." There was no hint of remorse in Lucius's reply, but his steel blue eyes abated as he searched Severus's worn features, and only just. "It is for the best, my friend. She's too much of a liability."_

_"And if it were Draco?" Severus whispered quietly, before he could stop himself. Noting the delay in Lucius's response, he turned his gaze towards the proud wizard with long, blond locks whom he had known nearly all his life._

_"I would do everything within my power to keep him from harm," Lucius answered with delicacy, "but he's also my son, Severus. Miss Granger is not family, nor is she worth the fuss you've made over her."_

_"I haven't made a fuss over her!" Severus hissed back, his shoulders hunched like a lion ready to pounce. "I cannot stomach these assaults anymore, that is all. I know you can't either, Lucius, so do not lie to me."_

_"I wouldn't lie to you."_

There's a contradiction in terms, _Severus reflected with a twinge of bitterness._

_"Then I think you should do the honors!"_

_"No." Lucius broke for silence, choosing his words carefully before continuing. "The Dark Lord has forbidden it. He's made his choice, and he's wanted Granger for a long time, Severus."_

_"As if I do not already know that, Lucius. Have you forgotten that it was _I_ who lured her here in the first place?"_

_"I haven't forgotten, no. Only..."_

_"Only what, Lucius?"_

_The prominent Malfoy shifted in his chair but kept his focus firmly on his friend. "It took you longer than expected to bring her to us..."_

_Severus stared without blinking. He couldn't risk using Legilimency, in case Lucius already had himself shielded, which Severus suspected, so he simply altered his facade and gave his fellow Slytherin an emotionless glare._

_"Miss Granger is highly intelligent, Lucius, far smarter than wizards more than half her age. It wasn't as easy as I anticipated, but I also know my student on a level that neither you nor the Dark Lord would understand, or know how to handle. She's exceedingly clever, so I had to be even more so."_

_"Yes, you do know her very well..."_

_The strange gleam in Lucius's eyes was unsettling, but Severus didn't dare show it. "I should. She was my student for six years."_

_"Mmm."_

_"Something on your mind?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Well?"_

_After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Lucius leaned forward in his chair with an all-knowing smile that immediately rubbed Severus the wrong way. "I think you've grown fond of her..."_

_Severus reared back with supposed offense. "What?"_

_"You heard me," Lucius provoked softly, his handsome smile widening. "The Dark Lord is growing suspicious, you know. He grilled me just the other day about your relations with the Mudblood, and it got me thinking..."_

_"You are way off base, Lucius!" Severus snarled, trying to sound as affronted as possible. "Then again, the way your warped mind works, I'm hardly surprised!"_

_"Am I?"_

_The dark tone to Lucius's body language was enough to get Severus's heart pounding, but his reflections would remain as silent as the grave. No one provoked Severus Snape and got the reaction they desired. But Lucius wasn't about to give up._

_"You know, I've never told the Dark Lord about Lily Evans..."_

_Severus arched an eyebrow, nonchalant, though secretly he was nearly clawing at his insides. "What about her?"_

_"Oh, come off it, Severus! What kind of fool do you think I am? I know you were in love with her; with that bewitching, redheaded, silly Mudblood. You may have successfully concealed your feelings from Avery and Mulciber, but I'm not an idiot, my friend, and I am not fooled by you."_

_"You're pulling at strings, Lucius. Lily was a friend—nothing more—and only until she decided she'd had enough of me. And that is something I do not lament. She was the first friend I'd ever made in my life, but in the end, she wasn't worthy of it. Hers and Potter's deaths were of their own making."_

_Lucius's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I know you don't mean that."_

_"I assure you," Severus returned, trying to sound frank, though every word sickened him to utter, "I mean it. I don't know what you or the Dark Lord have in mind, but I care nothing for Granger. Only, these ritual assaults have grown tiresome and mundane. I cannot stomach them anymore. And, furthermore, they keep getting younger. It appalls me greatly."_

_Lucius eyed him in puzzlement. "Then what would you suggest?"_

_Severus braced himself inwardly for what he was about to convey. "Perhaps a bit of mind torture. Hit Granger where it will do the most damage. She's always been a know-it-all; reverse that highly praised reputation of hers."_

_It was a long moment before Lucius spoke, his mind considering his old friend's suggestion. Then he nodded, resolute._

_"You shall have it."_

_Severus wanted to be sick, but he couldn't. He never could express himself properly, and thus, simply took it in stride and nodded back._

_"Very well."_

_Severus returned his attention to the fireplace; he may have appeared uncaring, but inside the panic was reaching a stifling level. Lucius, however, could not detect anything to satisfy the theories he had presented. He cleared his throat and adjusted the snake cane situated against his thigh._

_"I'm sorry, my friend. I thought you might have felt something for Granger. It seemed rather curious to me these past months, but perhaps I was mistaken. I still don't believe a word of what you've said about Evans though. I know you cared for her, Severus. You won't convince me of such a lie. You were devastated by her death. Don't think I didn't see."_

_"Believe whatever will bring you personal satisfaction, Lucius, but I won't hear of it. You can keep your ridiculous accusations to yourself."_

_"I will. For now."_

_Their eyes met, and neither Death Eater said a word. After a while, Lucius looked away and got to his feet. Severus simply watched, refusing to remove his intense, challenging stare._

_"Miss Granger is in the uppermost cellar. Once the Dark Lord arrives, we'll begin. I suggest you prepare yourself."_

_"I am already prepared." Inwardly, however, he had never felt more raw or disinclined._

_"Severus," Lucius implored, "it will be a long night, and you'll need all your mental strength—"_

_"I said that I'm ready."_

_The finality in Severus's tone silenced the conversation, and Lucius gave a curt bow and removed himself from the room, leaving the Potions Master to contemplate—frantically—his next move. "Hermione." His voice pleaded, in a tender whisper that bordered on despair. "Hermione... My Hermione... Please forgive me..."_

* * *

Hermione was gone for much longer than she had anticipated. She couldn't believe how much Legilimency had drained her body of energy and gulped down a cup of coffee as soon as she arrived in the Great Hall. Several staff members and a handful of students were already gathered, but Hermione didn't have time to mingle.

After consuming her much-needed caffeine fix, Hermione surveyed the Gryffindor house table for items that looked appetizing. She had no clue what Snape might like, as she had never really paid attention to what he ate, but decided he would have to make due with whatever she chose. She was preoccupied with her food selections when Professor McGonagall's voice breached her thoughts, right at her side.

"Miss Granger, how are you?"

Hermione startled but quickly flashed a smile. "Oh! Very well, Professor, thank you."

McGonagall held a hot cup of tea in both hands and surveyed her bright student with care. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. How is your holiday break going?"

"It's going, thank you. I've completed our Transfiguration assignment. I could hand it in to you early if you would prefer?"

McGonagall chuckled lightly and shook her head. "Always three steps ahead. No, no, my dear, I have enough work right now as it is. I'm sure you've aced the assignment, so you needn't worry. Hand it in when term resumes."

"All right. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overload you."

Hermione turned away to levitate a few items into the air including a hot cup of jasmine green tea, which she could only hope Snape might enjoy, especially as it contained a naturally soothing herb that he probably needed. And it beat any one of those blasted cigarettes.

"Aren't you going to eat here, Miss Granger?"

"Oh! Erm, sorry, Professor, but I can't. I'm serving detention today."

McGonagall's stern face morphed into one of heightened concern. "With Snape? I thought that was over. You were only supposed to serve detention until Christmas break."

"Um, well, Professor Snape has actually extended my detentions..."

"_What?_" McGonagall's grey eyes gleamed angrily. "Until when, Miss Granger?"

"I - I'm not sure, Professor." When she saw the hostility forming on McGonagall's face, she added quickly, "It's all right, Professor, really. I've been assisting Snape with some Potions research, and he's teaching me some more advanced magic as well that I've found very instructive. It's really not so bad."

Hermione didn't dare elaborate on what sort of magic she was learning, but hastily realized she had opened her mouth too soon. McGonagall's suspicions grew worse.

"_What_ sort of advanced magic is he teaching you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's heart began to race, and she thought fast. "Nonverbals; some of the harder combative spells we haven't learned yet. Professor Snape thought I might benefit from more challenging instruction."

"He did, did he?" McGonagall arched an eyebrow. "That doesn't seem right, Miss Granger. You're an exceptional dueler already; you're exceeding all of the staff's expectations in your subjects, so Professor Snape thinking you aren't up to snuff—"

"No, no, Professor, it's not like that. He thinks I have greater potential; that's all. That's why he's taking the time to teach me harder spells."

"_Potential?_" McGonagall repeated, not sounding at all convinced. "With all due respect, my dear, you're a Gryffindor. I would hardly expect Professor Snape to give you extra care and attention, no matter how talented you are. You aren't in Slytherin, my dear. Therefore, you're automatically second rate in his eyes."

Hermione giggled to keep herself from saying something she would regret later. "So it would seem, Professor, but Snape has actually been very helpful. I'm feeling much more prepared these days."

"Prepared? Prepared for what?"

Hermione could sense the timidity lurking behind McGonagall's question and it gave her pause. "For what we're up against, Professor. To be able to defend ourselves from Lord Volde— Sorry."

She bit her lower lip, expecting McGonagall to cringe or react poorly to the name, one that even Hermione didn't use often, and was surprised when the elderly woman didn't bat an eyelash. "I'm not afraid of the name, dear, nor should you be. It is silly to refer to that psychotic maniac as anything other than who he is. Do not be afraid to say the name in my presence. I won't reprimand you for it, although I daresay Professor Snape might. Be careful what you say around him, Miss Granger. He's not entirely..."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Trustworthy?"

McGonagall's eyebrows rose. "I was going to say he's a bit too temperamental, but now that you mention it..."

"Oh!"

Hermione turned bright red, infuriated with herself for making such a bold statement out loud, and one that she didn't believe in. It angered her too, to see that McGonagall wasn't entirely convinced of the Potions Master's intentions, whatever they were.

"Well, yes, he_ is_ temperamental, for sure, but I think Snape's an honorable person, Professor."

McGonagall was visibly stunned, if not entirely leery of Hermione's remark. "Yes, well," she cleared her throat, "I shall be speaking to Professor Snape immediately regarding the extent of your detentions, Miss Granger. I am astounded that he never informed me. And to not disclose for how long is of additional concern, I might add."

"Oh, no, please—"

McGonagall paused. "Surely, you don't wish to prolong these detention sessions, Miss Granger?"

"I— Erm, well. I - I'm learning a lot though..."

"Be that as it may, I will speak to him about this, and soon. I am quite displeased he didn't have the fortitude to inform me. I'm surprised you didn't either, Miss Granger."

"I... Well, I didn't really take issue with it, Professor."

McGonagall didn't say anything, only blinked hard and stared at Hermione as if she had sprouted additional limbs. Hermione seized the awkward silence and bowed to the Transfiguration witch respectfully, desperate to make her leave.

"I have to get back. Erm, see you later, Professor."

Hermione stalked out of the Great Hall with the levitated food and tea as fast as she could. _Damn it, Hermione! You and your ruddy mouth. McGonagall can't stop these sessions. She just can't!_ Hermione's fast walk slowed to a stroll. _That's it. You don't _want_ these detentions to end, Hermione. Do you know how confusing and bizarre that must have sounded to her?_

Hermione shook her head violently and willed herself not to think on it anymore, instead quickening her pace back to the classroom. When she entered, she found Snape standing by one of the opened shutters. The warm, natural light spilling in from the outside contrasted with the rest of the enveloping shadows. The professor was silent and still, his eyes seemingly glazed over as he stared out onto the grounds at the falling snow.

"Snape? I'm back. I've brought us some food and jasmine green tea for you. I wasn't sure what you'd want, so you'll have to make do with this."

She summoned the items to Snape's desk but kept her eyes fixed on him. He didn't say anything or acknowledge her presence, so she moved closer.

"Snape? Is something wrong? _Snape?_"

Hermione reached out tentatively and squeezed Snape's arm, but he didn't so much as flinch or turn his head. Hermione's body stiffened. This was just like before; just like that other time, shortly after her detention sessions began, when she simply couldn't reach him.

She was taken aback when Snape suddenly whispered her name, very softly, almost like he was caressing it in the palm of his hands. It made Hermione's head jerk back.

"Hermione."

"Y - Yes?" she stammered, but he did not seem to hear her.

"Hermione..."

Hermione instinctively eased her hand down Snape's arm to grab hold of his hand, alarmed by how cold his touch felt. She inched closer to him, her body practically pressed up against his as she leaned forward to try and read his blank countenance.

"Yes, Snape?" she whispered, growing frightened by his unceasing, transfixed stare out the window. "I'm here. What's wrong? Will you please look at—"

"My Hermione..."

Hermione's caramel irises expanded, illuminated by the light trickling in through the window. "What?" she breathed.

_'My Hermione'? Did - Did he just say—_

"Please forgive me..."

Hermione pressed his hand in hers and raised her voice. "What are you talking about? _Snape!_ Answer me! What's going on—"

Snape's body abruptly began to crumble, falling back against her in the process. "Snape!" Hermione gasped, reaching her arms around to catch him as he unexpectedly plummeted to the floor, mumbling sluggish words she couldn't understand. His dark head collapsed against her shoulder with his eyes shut.

Terrified, Hermione tried to shake him awake. "Snape, please! Please wake up!" Snape's long, dark lashes fluttered combatively before his head suddenly buckled back against her shoulder, and his eyes shot open. "Snape!" she exclaimed, breathing a sigh of relief. "Merlin, what the hell happened? Are you all right?"

It took several seconds for Snape's eyes to adjust to the light before they came into focus and stared back. What little pink color on his cheeks he had had moments before washed away, whitening his complexion to the point of translucence.

"Herm...ione?" he whispered, sounding extremely tired.

"Yes, it - it's me. Are you all right?"

Hermione drew one arm more securely around Snape's back and compressed his hand with the other. Crookshanks made an appearance at Hermione's side and was also staring down at the professor, cradled in his mistress's arms with his robes spread out around them, matching the general darkness of the room.

"No," Snape managed, his voice unnaturally thin, "my...office..."

"What? No, Snape, we have to get you to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey should look you over—"

"_No_," Snape stressed emphatically, shutting his eyes and leaning into her weight, "I...need..."

"_Yes?_ What do you need?"

"My office... Hermione... Help... Please..." Snape attempted to sit up but quickly fell back against her, groaning and turning his head away, exhausted.

"Don't try to move, would you? I - I really think we should get you to the Infirmary. You aren't well."

"No... My office..."

As he tried to raise himself again, Hermione looped one of Snape's arms around her neck and brought one of hers firmly about his waist. "You stubborn sod," she reprimanded into his ear. "This is ridiculous! Please let me take you to the hospital wing!"

"No... I'm fine. Just...help me up..."

Hermione sighed, aggravated and, at the same time, growing increasingly more concerned. She tried to pull her wand out of her pocket, but Snape hissed at her, despite his weakened state.

"Don't - you - dare."

"_What_, I can't levitate you? For crying out loud, Snape, you're not exactly lightweight!"

"I...don't...care..."

"Well, I do!"

"Hermione, please..."

Hearing his abnormal, feeble plea softened her resolve. Using what little strength she had, she stumbled and staggered and, after a few efforts, eventually brought Snape to his feet. Snape, in turn, reached out for whatever he could grasp onto for balance, and together they made the arduous ascent up the stone staircase.

It was a tedious, tiresome affair, but by the time Hermione finally got Snape to his office, a little more of his strength had returned, and he didn't press his weight on her as much. Snape drew his arm away from her neck and tried to step forward on his own, but Hermione reached out and grabbed him firmly by the waist.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she gasped, tugging on the back of his cloak.

"The couch," he snarled, some of the bite in his voice returning as he tried to lift his hand and point at a worn, green sofa against the wall that didn't look remotely comfortable. "I can manage...from here..."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake! If you wanted to lie down, why didn't you just say so? I could have transfigured you something downstairs and saved us all this trouble!"

"I don't...need that!"

"Oh, you don't want to lie on anything transfigured by _me_, is that it?"

"You're...impossible," Severus moaned, trying to move forward but stumbling sideways. Hermione reached out and caught him, but only just. "Just go," he grumbled. "Please."

"Snape, you're not going to get rid of me simply by being a bullheaded arse! You'll have to do better than that. Now, let me help you to the couch."

Snape quickly gave up arguing and didn't have the stamina yet to be embarrassed, too drained from what he had experienced to fully process what was happening. Hermione eased him gingerly onto the couch, bringing his legs up so that he could lie down properly, and glided two battered-looking pillows underneath his head. It was only then that Hermione was able to take in the horrific sight of his violent tremors.

Spotting a weighty, emerald-colored afghan spread across an armchair nearby, Hermione brought it over the indisposed wizard situated in a feeble position beneath her. Without really considering what she was doing, Hermione tucked his lean body as snugly around the throw as she possibly could, feeling the various contortions of his quivering body.

When she was done, Hermione kneeled down next to him, but his eyes were shut with one hand covering his face. Even his hand was shaking.

"Snape, _please_ let me get Madame Pomfrey," she urged as gently as possible, laying a hand on his shoulder. She could still detect his trembles beneath the blanket. "You're very ill, and I don't know what to—"

"No, I'll...be fine. A few more minutes... Just...a few...more minutes."

Hermione looked him over in a frenzy, exasperated by his uncontrollable shakes, labored breathing, and the perspiration that had broken out on his forehead. "What can I do?" she whispered, gliding her hand up and down his shoulder and arm in a soothing, warm motion that Snape responded to with an appreciative sigh.

"Fireplace...Hermione..."

"Oh! Yes, of course."

Hermione withdrew her wand, muttered the necessary incantation and an orange light ignited, shooting into the fireplace and bringing a crackling fire to life that radiated heat into the room. Snape extended a hand from underneath the afghan, and something nearby began to rattle. Hermione's head darted towards a cabinet near the professor's desk that abruptly shot open. A small phial sprung from one of the shelves across the room and landed in Snape's quivering hand.

"I could have gotten that for you, you know." Hermione glared reproachfully, but viewing his relentless shakes stomped out her anger within seconds. "Here, let me get that for you." She took the phial from Snape's grasp with ease and briefly examined the handwriting. "Mens Mentis Oppugno Antidote." Hermione glanced at Snape to find him looking at her, albeit with difficulty. "Lessens the effects of Legilimency and Occlumency?"

_Shit. This is my fault._

"I'm so sorry, Snape," Hermione blurted out, horrified, but the Potions Master seemed to have guessed where her thoughts had settled, and willfully closed his eyes.

"Don't...give yourself...so much credit."

"Don't try to make me feel better," she grumbled back, bringing the phial to his lips.

"That's...better."

Snape sunk into the pillows that cradled his head, and Hermione didn't stop herself from sitting down on the couch beside him. She leaned her head down close to his, watching him intently, and brought her hand round to rub at his back, feeling the muscles contract and fight her efforts to sooth whatever affliction was coursing through his body. The trembles were still quite brutal but, after several minutes, passed away, leaving his body limp.

When Hermione could no longer sense Snape shaking, she stopped her circular massages and waited. "Are you all right now?"

"Yes...much better..."

"What happened?"

"Side effect..."

"What, of performing Legilimency?"

"Yes."

"Why the hell did you let me provoke you into it then?" she asked with heightened desperation. "That was wrong of me. I shouldn't have—"

"It wasn't..._you_...Hermione."

"Then what was it?" Hermione wasn't convinced and stared at his profile, hoping to catch a glimpse of a fabrication or two that she could counteract.

"I can't...explain..." he moaned wearily.

Hermione angled her head to one side, and a few of her thick curls brushed his shoulder. "Why not?"

"You...can't...know."

"Know what, Snape? Stop talking in riddles, would you?"

"No...can't."

Hermione scowled. "You don't sound at all better. Is there something else I can give you?"

"No. Will offset...my elixir..."

"This is yours?" Hermione turned over the phial in her hand before placing it carefully on an end table next to the sofa.

"Yes."

"I see." Hermione watched his eyelashes flutter, his insomnia fighting off what she knew his body was craving. "I think you need to rest," she encouraged, her voice soft and soothing.

"Yes."

"I - I'd hate to move you, Snape, but wouldn't you be more comfortable in your private quarters? I'm sure a bed would be much more sufficient to this."

"No," he grumbled sleepily, "it's fine."

"No, it's not. I'm sitting on this ruddy couch with you and am not comfortable at all."

"Wuss."

"_What?_" Hermione gasped, witnessing a very faint curl at the edge of Snape's lips that caused her to smile too, despite her worries. "Oh, you're a real bastard, Snape. You really are."

"It's only...because I'm indisposed...that I'll let you...speak to me that way...Miss Granger."

"_Hermione_."

"Whatever."

Snape sighed into his pillow, his midnight tresses escaping from behind his ears to fall freely over his eyes and nose. Hermione felt a sudden urge to brush them away, to feel the texture of each strand in her fingers, perhaps even bring them behind his ear again—just to sense what that was like—but refrained.

"Go away...would you?" he urged quietly.

"No. You're in no shape or form for me to do that."

"I'm fine, Hermione. You've done enough..."

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"You'll pay for that later..."

"I'm sure I will."

"Please go."

His weak request was endearing, but a little heartbreaking. She really didn't want to leave but felt obliged to honor his request, regardless. Before she could say anything, however, there was a whimpering sort of mew at the door. Crookshanks had made his way up the stairs to Snape's office, prodding the door open further to peek inside.

Hermione intuitively started massaging Snape's back again, to which he let out a contented moaned and didn't fight off her efforts. "Crooks is here," she murmured close to his ear.

"Oh?"

Crookshanks came sprinting over to the couch and jumped up beside Hermione and Snape. He peered down at the Potions Master, sniffing the air all around him. Then he meowed, and turned his whiskers towards Hermione.

"He's very concerned, you know," Hermione smiled at her cat, then down at Snape, whose breathing was leveling out.

She knew he was on the verge of sleep, and probably wouldn't know if she stayed with him anyhow, but her guilty conscience wanted to respect the poor man's wishes. She suspected he wouldn't want to wake up to her there, and she would feel bad for staying when he had begged her to leave.

_And he'll be cross with you and pick another row. You know it._

"If I can't stay, can Crooks at least keep watch over you? I don't think he'll want to go anyhow. He's almost as stubborn as you are."

"Very well."

"I'll come by in a little while—"

"Tomorrow."

"Snape—"

"No. Tomorrow."

"Oh, all right, tomorrow then, and see how you are, all right?"

"If you insist..."

Hermione shook her head and stifled a laugh. _Prickly, adorable sod._ Hermione leaned closer, hearing his slow, even gulps of air as he started to doze off.

"Happy New Year's, Snape."

Snape barely mumbled the same in return and fell asleep at last to the sound of Crookshank's gentle purrs, Hermione's intoxicating vanilla scent, and the wonderful hand that had been circling his aching back. Hermione reluctantly withdrew her touch and leaned back to gaze at her furry companion.

"Keep an eye on him, Crooks, all right?"

As if in understanding, the half-Keazle meowed and plopped himself between the professor's drawn up knees and bent arms beneath the covers. He laid his head down and continued to purr against the dark wizard's now relaxed, slumbering form.

Hermione got to her feet and gave Snape one final check over before rubbing Crookshank's head and stepping away. "If he starts having a reaction to you, Crooks, you get away from him at once. Understood?" The orange feline stretched himself out but did not respond again, rather content with his new, snug spot, and closed his eyes to join the man in a dream land.

Hermione headed for the door, her eyes sweeping the room one last time before they came to rest on Snape, hardly visible except for the top of his head, the rest consumed and safeguarded by the small berth she had made for him. As she closed the door, a grave expression surfaced, and her mind reverted back to earlier when events had so drastically taken a turn, making her New Year's Eve more of a frightening one than she ever imagined.

'My Hermione,' he had whispered, so lightly, and with such longing that it was as if it were coming from a part of him she didn't know. 'Please forgive me.'

None of it was meant for her to hear, that much was certain, but the words themselves were strangely wonderful, and yet disconcerting, all at once. And her mind wouldn't—_couldn't_—leave them alone.

'My _Hermione'? What does_ that_ mean? Forgive him? Forgive him for what?_

* * *

**A/N #2: Billie Holiday's "The Very Thought of You" is a song I've listened to since I was a child (ever see _Forever Young_ with Mel Gibson and Jamie Lee Curtis? I was pretty much obsessed with that film as a kid. And yes, I know it's exceedingly corny; right up there on the "gag radar"). I've long thought that this song speaks perfectly to our favorite pairing. It'll crop up again, sort of like an "accompanying theme," if you will. If you haven't listened to it, _go to YouTube now_, and make sure to listen to Billie Holiday's rendition. For whatever reason, it makes me think of our Severus, and I believe it's a song Hermione could appreciate as well.**

**Oh, and that "moment" with Lucius? Keep that in the back of your mind...  
**


	18. Pride and Weakness

**A/N: Hmm, I'm not sure what to offer as a starting point for this one, so I'll just let the chapter speak for itself...  
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**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
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******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

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**Chapter 18: Pride and Weakness**

"You _cannot_ tell her, Severus," Dumbledore asserted, his blue eyes twinkling, though not out of kindness or placidity. They were fierce, stern, and reprimanding. "Not that you want or intend to, I'm sure, but I can sense the idea turning in that brilliant head of yours."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Albus." Severus stopped before the Headmaster's desk and ran his fingers through his hair, clearly distracted and overwrought. "She wouldn't believe who I am even if I _did_ tell her.

"I just... It happened in front of her. I was too careless."

"You _weren't_ careless, Severus; I sense that these episodes are difficult to control and tend to happen unexpectedly and without warning. Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," he grumbled, pacing the floor again with his infamous grimace; only it was darker than usual.

Dumbledore, however, didn't appear at all convinced, and the aged lines in his face drew into a concerned frown. "How much Legilimency are you performing these days?"

"Enough."

"Be more specific," Dumbledore urged, exuding his usual patience for the Slytherin's drastic temperament.

"Virtually every time that I'm summoned. His orders. I have no choice. It's nothing new, Albus."

"No, it isn't, but it's still of appropriate concern. Your mind and body are becoming exhausted. You need to take better care of yourself—"

"I don't need your lectures! You have no idea what kind of pressures and restraints I'm under."

"You're right, I don't, but I'm allowed to express concern for you, aren't I?" Dumbledore arched an eyebrow. "You can't avoid Miss Granger forever, Severus. Term has resumed, and she needs your guidance and preparation for what lies ahead."

"I know," Severus snarled heatedly.

"Then what is your hesitation? I finally got Minerva to back down on her requests to stop these sessions altogether, and you're making little to no effort to see them continue at all. Why?" Watching Severus pace relentlessly with his lips tightly shut, Dumbledore brought his fingers together and perched his elbows on the arms of his chair. "Is it because of the manner in which Miss Granger saw you?"

Severus abruptly stopped and met Dumbledore's gaze, his stark eyes glistening for a fleeting moment. "What?"

"Come now, Severus. I've seen the friendship that's sprung up between you two these past few weeks."

"_And?_" Severus challenged with a cold sneer.

"And I believe you care about how she perceives you..."

Severus struggled with how to reply, taken aback by the insightful remark, so gentle, and yet, so direct. "No, I don't," he barked, after composing himself.

"Ahhh, my mistake then."

"Listen, Albus, I know what you're doing, and I won't play along."

"I'm not playing anything, Severus. But you seem to have developed a friendship with Miss Granger—one based on trust—and I'd hate to see that come to nothing on account of your pride."

"_My pride?_"

"It is all right to show weakness every once in a while, Severus." Raising his cursed hand into the air, Dumbledore's face grew somber, even older; as did Severus's, as his eyes took in the irreversible curse that was slowly spreading across Dumbledore's skin. "After all, we are all weak from time to time..."

Severus drew his shoulders up, going stiff as a board. "Weakness has nothing to do with it, Albus."

"Then what?"

"What I experienced... I'm not certain if it was a dream or the future, but Miss Granger had been caught and was going to be tortured... And I..."

"Yes?" Dumbledore pressed, leaning forward in his chair with interest.

There was a drawn out pause before Severus answered. "_I_ was the one who was going to torture her."

Either Dumbledore was unfazed, or he simply chose not to react, for he sat back in his chair and brought his arms into his lap, looking rather serene, considering what Severus had shared. "Severus, you do know that that is a great possibility."

"_No!_"

"I know it is difficult to face the tasks we all must face but—"

"I said no, Albus!" Severus pointed an index finger at the Headmaster and curled his upper lip. "I have said yes to you every day for the past sixteen years! And I say no to this! _I can't do it!_"

"Severus, I have confidence in you. You may be able to save—"

"It won't happen, Albus! You know how great of a risk this is! Even with her continued training, it will be many against one. She _will_ die, Albus. I know she will. She won't possibly survive what they will do to her; what _I_ will be forced to do to her..."

"You've known this though, Severus. It is a reality you've had two years to come to terms with—"

"_I don't care!_" Severus drew back and turned his back on Dumbledore, bringing both hands to his head, tearing at his hair and face in agony. "I must kill you, I must unleash torture on the students once you're gone, and I'm to, in all probability, kill one of them, thereby giving Potter more reason to hate me, when I am the only one able to relay to him what he needs to know, since you have no intentions of telling him yourself! _What else must I endure?_"

Dumbledore didn't answer. In truth, he didn't really know how to respond and, in rare form, was stumped by Severus's question. Seeing this highly emotional side to Severus was growing more and more perplexing—not to mention debilitating to Severus—and a worry that the Headmaster couldn't allow himself to be consumed by in light of the stakes that were rising against them, ever increasing and never folding. He sighed wearily and stared for a time at Severus's back.

"I am sorry for what you have to endure, Severus. I truly am."

"No, you're not," Severus responded coolly, dropping his arms to his sides.

Dumbledore raised his head, startled by his acid tone, but Severus quietly stalked out of the room before the old man could respond, this time closing the door behind him with barely a sound, disappearing into the darkness of Hogwarts castle once more.

* * *

"'Mione?"

"Hmm? Yeah?"

"You seem rather down. Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine, Harry," she grumbled, unconvincingly, and set to reading the page she had been on for nearly a half hour.

"Look, I know you're still mad at Ron, but he feels really bad about—"

"Ron?" Hermione blinked hard, trying to process what Harry said.

"Um, yeah... You know, what he said to you at Christmas?"

"Oh? Oh! _That_. Oh, I'm over that."

"You are?" Harry shot her a skeptical, funny look.

"Yeah, I am."

Hermione shifted on the red sofa and wedged a pillow up against her back while Crookshanks slept peacefully at her propped up feet. It had been a long while since she had even thought about her ginger friend and the way he had treated her over the holiday break. In truth, Hermione hadn't thought about Ron much at all. Her mind, however, was preoccupied, but not with the Weasley boy...

"Then... Well, that's good, I'm glad to hear it, but then _why_ are you so depressed?"

Hermione peered up from her thick book, this time giving Harry her full attention. "Come again?"

"You're feeling down, 'Mione. Everyone can see it. Ron's really concerned too, you know."

"I'm not depressed!"

"Yes, you are. You didn't stay over break at the Burrow—you left the first chance you could—and you didn't come for New Year's. You didn't write to any of us, even though we tried to communicate with you multiple times. Lupin was actually starting to think something might have happened to you. Mrs. Weasley was paranoid and is still worried about you. What's going on, 'Mione?"

Hermione turned away with a weighty sigh. She studied the enigmatic flames in the hearth, getting lost in their hypnotic dance. She couldn't tell Harry what was on her mind, and that's what saddened her more than anything. He was her best friend—the brother she had never had—and even he apparently wasn't trustworthy enough for her secrets.

"I... I just have a lot on my mind, that's all."

"'Mione, we all do. We're all worried about what the future holds, but you shouldn't let it consume you."

"I - I'm not. It has nothing to do with—"

"You _need_ to talk to Ron. He really, really wants to speak to you; only, he thinks you're still pissed at him."

"I'm _always_ pissed at him," she snorted, her expression cross.

"Yeah, but, 'Mione, he thinks you _hate him_."

"Oh, rubbish! Tell him to stop acting like such a child."

"Can't _you?_"

"No."

"I don't understand." Harry paused to scratch his head. "Just before Christmas, you were so anxious for Ron to come round to you. Then he breaks up with Lavender, and you don't even bat an eye?"

"Harry, he just broke up with her not even a month ago! And, frankly, I'm not interested in being anyone's rebound, least of all _his_. I told you that."

"Fair enough, but..."

"Harry, he's a big boy. If he really wants to talk to me, he will. We're still supposed to be friends; doesn't that count for anything to him?" She tapered her eyebrows, a burning surge emanating through her warm, caramel eyes. "Or has he given up on our friendship, too?"

"He hasn't, 'Mione! You know him. He's just..."

"Being an infantile prat."

Harry gave a half-cocked grin that extended to his unnaturally colored eyes. "Yeah, sorta."

"_Never_ the element of surprise."

Hermione rolled her eyes and returned to her reading, but really, all she did was stare at the text without seeing, just as she had been doing for weeks. Her sessions with Snape had all but stopped since that eventful New Year's Eve, and when in class, he purposely avoided any contact with her, hardly even acknowledging her or singling her out as he used to do.

Hermione had tried to ignore Snape's rather odd behavior, to remain patient with him, reminding herself that this was just the man's way of dealing with personal humiliation, but she was growing extremely tired of it now. She had been debating all week whether or not to confront him and was just mustering up the courage to perhaps stomp straight down there that very instant and have it out when her idea was interrupted, and not by Harry, but by another familiar voice.

"So you must be elated that your detentions with the greasy git are over now, eh?"

Hermione blinked and her sudden startle rattled Crookshanks, who awakened with an upset meow and sprung from the sofa with his hair standing on end. "Huh?" she asked, confused by the interruption.

"Erm, sorry." Ron turned beet red, his freckles lighting up his handsome face, taking an awkward stance behind the couch with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Didn't mean to disturb you; thought you were talking to Harry just now."

"I was..."

"Oh."

"Um, you can join us, if you want?"

"Yeah, all right."

His response was a little too eager, but Hermione ignored it. Ron shuffled himself between them on the confined sofa, giving Hermione an intense regard she wasn't accustomed to.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, before she could stop herself.

The blue eyes panicked, then grew heated. "What?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"So, how was your New Year's? We tried to write to you, you know."

"_Harry_, _Ginny_, and your _brothers_ wrote to me, Ron."

Ron's uneasy grin flipped into a frown. "That's what I just said."

"No, it's not. You implied that _you_ wrote to me, which you didn't."

"Bloody hell. What's gotten into you?"

Harry surveyed Hermione from his opposite end of the sofa, and Hermione caught the smile he was trying to hide behind his corrupted _Advanced Potions_ text.

"Nothing's wrong," she insisted, crossing her arms and growing angrier by the second. "I just don't like you insinuating that you've done something nice when you haven't done anything at all."

"Huh?"

"Oh, forget it, Ron!" Hermione slammed her Transfiguration book down on the floor and stomped out of the common room, no other desire in mind but to get away from the idiot she had had such reserved feelings for.

"Blimey, is it that time of the month or something?" Ron mumbled to Harry, who shrugged and returned to his homework, not wanting to get in the middle of yet another feud.

Hermione tried to shake off her fury as she flew down several corridors, not really paying any attention to where she was headed but still wanting to get as far away from Gryffindor Tower as possible. Her long curls waved behind her as she practically ran from her usual place of refuge. She stopped, however, when she heard a soft meow at her feet.

"Crooks! Again, out and about, I see." Crookshanks swiped her leg with his paw and darted off, bringing Hermione into a sporting game of chase. "Wait! _Crooks!_ Blasted cat, get back here!"

The feline paid his mistress's desperate calls no mind and pounced around corners, weaving in and out of the shadows as Hermione did her best to keep up. By the time Hermione caught up with Crookshanks outside the door to the D.A.D.A. classroom, she was panting furiously and nearly collapsed at the cat's feet.

"Crooks! You never do that! You don't run away from me! What's gotten into you, you scoundrel?" Crookshanks pawed at the door in front of them, mewing several times to be let in. It then dawned on Hermione where she was, and a smile drew across her mouth. "You _are_ a scoundrel, you know that? So, you miss your fellow stubborn sod, do you? Oh, very well. Go get him."

Hermione wasn't even sure if the professor would be in, but she opened the door anyhow and Crookshanks sprinted inside, meowing loudly—or calling, rather—at the Potions Master to make his presence known. Hermione's eyes had barely adjusted to the darkness when the office door flew open, and the tall silhouette of Severus Snape loomed in the doorway. He was outlined by candlelight coming from inside his office, but she couldn't make out his face very well.

"Miss Granger?" He paused, and soon the outline of a furry creature came into view at his feet. "Crookshanks," he growled, though to Hermione it sounded far more pleased than irked.

"He's missed you," she offered as she climbed the staircase towards them. "And I... I have, too, actually."

"Now is not a good time."

That familiar scathing tone, which had lessened in recent weeks, had suddenly returned with a vengeance, and Hermione jolted backwards at receiving it so unforgivably. "Look, I tried to stop by on New Year's Day, and every day after that, but your office door was either locked or you weren't here. I know you've been avoiding me, Snape, and I don't understand why. Did I do something wrong?"

"Miss Granger—"

"_Hermione_."

"I shouldn't be calling you that."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's inappropriate."

"Huh? No, it isn't. It's my name."

Snape sighed heavily and propped himself against the doorframe, his features highlighted by the radiating light inside his room, casting a fluorescent hue that was unlike his usual pallid complexion. Hermione soaked in how drained and haggard he looked, which tugged her forward despite the snarky warning she had just received.

"Are you all right? Are you feeling better?"

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." Snape scowled at her, then seemed to think better of it and ran his fingers through his tousled, dark locks. "Come in, if you must."

Snape disappeared into his office, indicating in his silent way for Hermione to follow. Crookshanks had already situated himself in the professor's leather chair, quite comfortable and content. Hermione couldn't help but laugh when she heard Snape's irritated hiss. The cat matched it playfully with one of his own.

"Out of my chair, Crooks," he commanded, though it was difficult to tell whether he was kidding or being serious.

"C'mon, Crooks," Hermione chided with unabated laughter. "No need to aggravate the man already. We haven't been here but five minutes."

"It's too late for that."

Before the feline could make a move, Snape swiftly grabbed hold of him, sat down, and plopped the cat onto his lap. Crookshanks simply purred in response to the hostile takeover.

"You two really _are_ the perfect match," Hermione baited, leaning against the side of his desk, eying them thoughtfully.

Snape smirked but kept his eyes on Crookshanks. "Don't get any ideas, fur ball."

He stroked underneath the half-Keazle's chin, and the cat arched his back and leaned into the professor, relishing in such attention. Then Snape leaned down and delicately brought his hands around the feline's small stature.

"You did a very good job, I must say," he purred against Crookshank's ear.

Hermione livened. "What did he do?"

Snape gradually peered up at her, his face surprisingly serene compared to a few moments ago. "He looked after me," he murmured so softly she almost didn't hear.

"Oh." Hermione gave a warmhearted grin. "Well, he's very good at that. He can be quite possessive, actually."

"Yes, I noticed."

"Oh?"

"When I awoke, I wasn't permitted to get up until I thanked him properly."

"Oh, dear. Well, when he wants to be stroked, it's hard to stop him. He didn't scratch you, did he?"

"He'd be without a tail if he had."

Hermione's smile widened as she watched her cat take to the professor in a way he hadn't with anyone else. "My poor Crooks. You don't realize how fortunate you are."

"Indeed."

Hermione observed them quietly for another minute—Crookshanks sprawled on his back to have his stomach rubbed, the snarky wizard indulging him willingly—before she bit her lower lip. What had been racking her brain for weeks had to come out now, while she had managed to get her foot in the door at last.

"So, what's going on, Snape? Why have you been avoiding me?"

Snape stopped stroking Crookshanks long enough for his racing mind to surface. "I've been busy."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Is that the best you can do?"

"I don't presume to do anything except answer your question."

"By withholding the truth?"

Snape's black eyebrows constricted. "How would you know?"

"Snape, I'm a lot more attuned to you these days."

"So you would like to believe," he replied with an arrogant smirk.

"Listen, what happened to you was frightening for me. Aren't I _at least_ owed an explanation about it?"

"As you've already gathered on your own, Legilimency can be quite trying if practiced for too long. Every wizard reacts and recoups differently."

"Oh? Well, word has it that you're one of the most skilled Legilimens there is, Snape. Suffice it to say, you could have continued for the rest of the day, I'm sure, and not have had the severe reaction that you had. We'd only been practicing for a few hours that day."

"True."

"Which leaves me to think..."

"What?"

Hermione fastened her arms together tighter but didn't look away. "You must have been practicing Legilimency far longer than when you were with me. Who else did you practice it on?"

The small, bright flicker that passed through Snape's eyes gave away his stricken panic, and Hermione couldn't help but give a cunning smile, knowing she had finally caught visible proof of one of his lies. "What?" he breathed.

"You heard me."

After a pause, Snape gave an aggravated snarled. "You ask too many questions," he griped.

"Avoiding an answer again, I see—"

"Because, once again, it's tedious."

"Then riddle me this," Hermione strode to Snape's chair with determination in her demeanor. It unnerved him, though he didn't show it. He hated being cornered, and with Hermione now looming over him, focused, and with fierce intent, he found his confidence waning; a rarity in itself. "Why did you call me your Hermione?"

Snape stared back, his pupils dilating. His complexion depleted, his lips coming together tightly.

"Pardon?"

"You said, 'My Hermione.' And you asked me to forgive you. Forgive you for_ what_, Snape?"

Snape diverted his gaze and answered hastily, "I never said that."

"Don't do that. I know what I heard, and I don't think you were dreaming. You didn't know I was there, and I'm sure I wasn't meant to hear those words, but I did." Her gaze softened, but her perseverance didn't falter. "Please don't avoid the subject, Snape. Just answer me straight."

"I..." Hermione waited, her stare intensifying the longer the silence lasted. "I was having a nightmare. I don't know why I said it."

Hermione turned glum, and disappointment lingered in her eyes. "A nightmare?"

"Yes. I'm sorry you had to witness that. It doesn't happen often, but..."

"Well, if that's the case, it happened before."

"I know, and I wish you hadn't seen that either."

"But still," Hermione glanced down at her hands, which had suddenly begun to tremble, "you called me _your_ Hermione..."

Snape's mouth felt parched, and he licked his lips nervously. "That was a mistake. I was having a fit, Hermione. I wasn't in my right frame of mind."

"Oh?"

"As to the second..."

"Yes?"

"I'm not sure why I said that either. I have no control over myself when these fits occur. I don't have any explanation for it. I cannot give you the clarity you seek."

"Oh, I - I see..."

Snape grunted and scooped Crookshanks out of his lap, placing him carefully onto his desk. The feline meowed in protest. Whipping out his wand, Snape swiftly vanished the orange hairs that had covered the front of his coat and got to his feet.

"You are disappointed?"

"Well, yes, of course."

"I have been busy, Hermione. I haven't been avoiding you."

_Not entirely..._

"What have you been so busy with that you couldn't at the very least inform me?"

Snape stiffened, partly stricken by the hurt he detected in her eyes. "My research and other professional matters that don't concern you, that's all."

"Oh."

"You're glowering, Hermione."

"And why shouldn't I?" Hermione shot him a deadly glare and brought herself as close to him as possible, keeping her arms crossed as she stretched out her neck. "You slapped me with detentions, you extended them, and then they abruptly stopped. I've had no idea why, and it's forced _me_ to come to _you_ for an explanation that you haven't really offered. Why is it so hard for you to tell the truth, Snape?"

Snape met her angry glare with equal passion. "Don't pester me—"

"_Pester you?_ Fine! Then end my detention sessions and I'll gladly leave you alone!"

"So much for _friendship!_" he snorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. It made Hermione shudder.

"You don't know the meaning of the word! Friends are honest with each other; they care enough to communicate, something you severely lack, and aren't verbally cruel or aloof as you've been!"

Hermione wanted to stop herself, but her temper was ready to boil over. She no longer possessed the patience she had maintained for weeks.

"You know by now the way that I am, Hermione," Snape responded with surprising patience. "I warned you of that—"

"Oh, sure, I know how you can be! Only I don't, because you're unpredictable, moody, and never offer anything up to me like a friend should! I'm tired of pulling all the leg work here. I can sense when you're being genuine, Snape, and _I also know when you're lying to me!_"

Flustered and visibly tormented, Snape backed away, breathing hard. "You don't know me," he stammered, though it sounded much weaker and more emotional than Hermione expected.

"You're right, I still don't know you very well, but I've been telling you for a while now that I would like to. You just won't let me in."

"I have! I _have_ let you in! And I thought you weren't going to push me?"

"I'm only pushing because you're lying to me! I wouldn't nag you, Snape, if I sensed any sort of sincerity to what you're telling me."

"_Don't_."

"I took care of you when no one else did, Snape! I could have walked away and left you to your own devices, but I cared enough to stay, and to try to help you. _How dare you be so selfish!_"

The skittishness in Snape's reaction only egged Hermione on. She filled the gap that had grown between them, wanting nothing more than to be close, and whispered with an emotional earnestness, "_Talk to me._" She stretched out her arms to take Snape's hands. He hitched a sharp, audible breath but didn't recoil. "Your hands are shaking," she added with a frown.

"I know," he groused, trying to find his footing. "It's all your fault."

Hermione couldn't help herself; she tittered lightly. His response was very childlike, and rather endearing. "I'm sorry."

"As am I..."

Hermione could see the anger subsiding in Snape's face. Either he no longer had the energy, or perhaps it was their intertwined hands, but Hermione willfully smiled at him, no longer wishing to be cross. She was about to say something when Snape interrupted her.

"Wait, please. There is something I must tell you. Something I should have said to you New Year's Day. I've wanted to thank you, Hermione, for what you did. I - I should have expressed my gratitude sooner. I'm very, erm, sorry, Hermione."

The delicacy in how Snape framed his apology caused a flushed sensation that trickled up Hermione's neck and onto her blushing cheeks. She bit her lip nervously, feeling like a little girl.

_He's just expressing his appreciation, Hermione. Nothing more._

"Wow, an apology from _you_," she teased, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. "Are you sure you're feeling better? Perhaps we _should_ have Madame Pomfrey examine you."

Snape sneered, but without malice. "I can take it back, you know. And no, I'm fine."

Hermione extended her smile, staring deep into his eyes. She could decipher the wizard's veracity that lingered on the surface, but beyond that, he was boarded shut. Her smile, however, seemed to have warmed something inside him, for when she started to back away, she felt a very slight tug on her hands.

"Hermione," Snape cleared his throat and hesitated, speaking quietly, "please understand, I _am_ very grateful for what you did. You didn't have to do that..."

"Isn't that what friends are for?"

"As you've already so colorfully reminded me, I wouldn't know."

Hermione winced. "You know I was just angry when I said that..."

"Of course," he smirked, and to her, the image was quite charming. "You're a Gryffindor. You possess very little control over your emotions. It's a dangerous habit."

"Oh, please," she guffawed. "At least we say what's on our minds."

"And that's supposed to be a positive attribute?"

"I'd like to think so. I don't know how you Slytherins keep everything so bottled up inside. No wonder you're all wound so tightly."

"I am not," Snape grumbled, sounding again like a child, which only caused Hermione to snicker.

"Yes, you are." She squeezed his hands and witnessed the gracious reaction her small gesture caused. "_But it's all right_. You wouldn't be a Slytherin if you were any different."

Snape angled his head. "And that doesn't bother you?"

"That you're a Slytherin?" Hermione considered it thoughtfully, but for only a moment. Her answer genuinely shocked him. "No, not at all."

He leaned in, and his nose almost brushed hers. Hermione gulped, overwhelmed by their proximity. "And what else am I?" he asked, his lips curling into a seductive, catlike grin she had never seen before.

Hermione almost couldn't respond. "I - I'm still figuring that out," she stammered. "So far I haven't had much luck, but Crooks and I are working on it."

Snape seemed satisfied by this, even contented; or so she assumed. "I see, so _that_ is why you invited him to spend the night in my office. That wasn't for _my_ benefit."

Hermione grinned. "Of course not."

"I should have known."

"Did I outwit you? I thought you told me before that _that_ was impossible."

"Mmm. I thought it was."

For a long minute or two, they gazed at one another in silence, studying each other's reactions but mostly trying to decipher one another's thoughts, without the use of Legilimency. Quickly becoming lost in each other's image, they hadn't realized how close they were to each other—and in not a strictly friendly way—or how long the silence ensued.

Hermione was brushed up against Snape, her hands enfolded in his, but she wasn't aware, at first, of the countless buttons that pressed against her breasts and abdomen. She was consumed—transfixed, rather—by the stray hairs that fell effortlessly over his long, sable eyelashes and distinctive nose. The ridge of his lips was supple, pink, and Hermione couldn't help but stare blatantly at his mouth.

Snape didn't seem conscious of his student's bosoms that now leaned into his chest; he was too overwhelmed by the enveloping warmness that seemed to radiate out of her in waves. Her eyes—golden and illuminated—matched her glowing smile, which her lustrous curls so lovingly framed. It was the centerpiece of her outline—those wonderfully plush lips—and he felt an unexpected urge to taste them.

_You couldn't. You shouldn't. Back away, Severus._

Snape's eyelashes fluttered, and then the wonderful moment they shared ended like a candle being blown out. Snape was the first to step away and break hold with her hands, and Hermione hated the warmth that escaped with it, leaving her empty, even with his presence still right in front of her. He felt far away.

_Too far away._

"Well," Hermione mustered, trying to gather herself and not appear disappointed, "are you going to teach me today, or is now still not a good time?"

Snape fumbled with his cravat and adjusted a few of his buttons without answering; Hermione found her mind wandering to those countless, round clasps that flowed so fluidly down his chest. They were quite handsome, and Hermione hadn't really given them much thought or mind until that moment. _They were wonderful..._

"Well, you've greatly improved in your combative skills; I see no reason to teach you any more of that outside the classroom," he replied, interrupting her thoughts.

"Really?"

"Yes. You've done exceedingly well."

It was probably one of the highest compliments he had ever bestowed on her, even if it was brief, and Hermione felt a proud sensation surge through her veins. "Then how about your research? Is there anything I could assist you with—"

"That is at a standstill right now, I'm afraid."

"Oh? Well, I could try practicing Legilimency on you? I don't want you to perform or demonstrate again for me just yet."

The one corner of Snape's mouth flipped upwards. "I am not incapacitated, Hermione. I'm more than capable of doing so. We can practice—"

"No, please. I won't have you collapsing on me again to prove a point."

"That wasn't on account of what you think," he started, growing a little annoyed, but Hermione interrupted him.

"_No_. I insist. I'm sure you're right, but I don't want to take any chances yet."

Snape laced his arms over his chest and stared her down in a suggestively mocking fashion. "Then I will not instruct you on either subject—Occlumency or Legilimency—until you give me the benefit of the doubt." Hermione groaned and started to protest, but Snape spoke quicker, "But perhaps I could answer more of your questions regarding the Darks Arts content you've read. I'm sure you have many inquiries still floating about in that must-know-everything noggin of yours."

"Oh!" Hermione's eyes lit up, remembering their previous conversation. "Oh, yes, that'd be great!"

Snape shook his head, but not disapprovingly. Hermione couldn't help but simper at how he seemed to rather enjoy her interest, even if he was trying hard not to show it.

"Then perhaps you should fetch your coat. It's near freezing out."

"Very well," she moaned, but her griping didn't match her glowing expression. She stopped at the door and spun around. "That's really a nasty habit, Snape. Have you thought about quitting?"

Snape, already wrapping a heavy black coat around his shoulders, rolled his eyes. "You will _not_ lecture me on my recreational drug of choice, Hermione."

"You wouldn't listen to me anyhow."

"Precisely. Now bugger off."

"Oh, this conversation is going to be delightful with your merry attitude." Snape narrowed his eyes, which only made Hermione bust up laughing. "I'll be right back. I think Crooks has no plans of leaving. Your office is far too toasty."

Crookshanks meowed contentedly. His furry frame was now stretched out over Snape's desk, lazily situated atop his countless parchment, papers, and various owls. His tail flapped back and forth, but the rest of him made no effort to move.

"This blasted cat is practically comatose. He really should get more exercise, Hermione. You've fattened him up."

Hermione gasped dramatically. "No, not my Crooks. He's gorgeous; the perfect size."

"I'd venture to guess he hasn't caught a mouse in a _very_ long time. You aren't doing him any favors, Hermione."

"He almost caught Scabbers!"

"_Almost_ being the key word."

"Oh, whatever!" Hermione swiped her hair off her shoulder, flashed him a challenging smile and flew down the stairs, calling out, "Don't try to lose me; you won't get far! I'll be right back!"

"I can hardly wait," Snape drawled, knowing she heard him.

Then another small smile broke out across the dark wizard's lips, and it was more pleasing than any he had displayed in years. _'I can hardly wait.' That _is_ the truth..._ Snape sauntered out of his office, leaving it to the devices of the sleepy half-Keazle who had claimed the place as his own.

* * *

**A/N #2: Ahhh, back to a good place. Even if they _do_ fight like cat and dog...  
**


	19. Persistent Feelings

**A/N: I hope you find this chapter emotionally satisfying. Our Potions Master_ does_ take a major step in this one...  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 19: Persistent Feelings**

"So, the Dark Mark..."

"Yes?" Snape arched his eyebrow, watching her as he took another drag.

Not wanting to grow too fond of these outings was proving difficult to Hermione, especially in light of how frequent they were becoming. Snape was opening up more and more to her, which only heightened her avid curiosity, but such a monumental feat also made the prospect of having their discussions abruptly snatched away difficult to bear.

By now, they had exchanged many interesting conversations about the Dark Arts, but Hermione was far more fascinated by her former Potions instructor than anything else. Hermione hated to think these outings, which often took place at their usual spot, might be snatched away at any given moment, so she sought every opportunity she could to coax him to talk, such as today.

"You chose to become a Death Eater when you turned eighteen. How'd you reach that decision?"

To her surprise, Snape actually stifled a laugh. "I feel like I'm being interviewed for _The Daily Prophet_. Why are you being so diplomatic?"

The suspicion mounting his features was equally humorous to Hermione. "I'm not," she protested lightheartedly.

"Just say what you actually want to say, Hermione."

"And why would you, of all people, suddenly be encouraging me to do _that?_"

"Merlin knows," Snape mumbled, turning away to take another puff. "I suppose I'm in one of my more tolerant moods this afternoon."

"Lucky me."

"Indeed."

"So? My question?"

Snape sighed, defeated. "I chose to become a Death Eater because I foolishly believed it was the only place I belonged. I'd been rejected by Lily, I wasn't accepted by any of my peers, and even the snakes in my house weren't entirely fond of me, but then we were all looking out for ourselves. Avery and Mulciber planned to join, Lucius was already a member and talked quite persuasively about what it meant to follow the Dark Lord, and I bought into it because I was naïve, pathetic, lonely, and yearned to serve a purpose."

Hermione glowered, gazing at her exposed professor with sadness. "You're not pathetic, Snape."

Snape snorted, not at all attentive to her sincerity. "I was, and probably still am by most accounts, but I'm much more secure and sure of myself now than I was at your age."

Hermione tried to smile, but it was a half-hearted attempt. "Most people are insecure when they're young. I should know; I'm an expert."

Snape gave her a sidelong glance, a glimmer of feeling emerging behind the blackness of eyes. "You shouldn't be insecure," he stated quietly. "You are a far more capable witch than you give yourself credit for."

Hermione almost stumbled back against the wall. They were on the rooftop once more, taking shelter beneath the overhang, and Hermione was convinced her legs would give out.

"Are you paying me a _compliment_, Snape?"

"Don't let it go to your head, or I shall promptly Obliviate it."

"I thought I was an 'insufferable know-it-all,' not a 'capable witch.'"

"You _are_ insufferable."

"Oh, I see," she drawled, leaning against the wall.

"And equally bright and talented."

"_Bright? Talented?_ Merlin, you're going strange on me..."

"Take my positivity and leave it at that, would you?" Snape shuffled his feet and took a long drag while Hermione watched, finding his awkwardness wonderfully endearing.

"The Mark," she whispered, getting back to the topic they had diverted from, "did it... Did it hurt?"

Snape's gloved fingers remained fastened to his cigarette as he studied Hermione rather carefully. "Well, it wasn't pleasant."

"And it still bothers you? I caught you clutching it that one time before..."

Snape unconsciously tugged at his left arm, unaware of Hermione's observance, and her mind wondered if he was aware as such. "Yes, it bothers me from time to time," he confessed morbidly. "The pain isn't excruciating or anything unless the Dark Lord wishes it to be so. It's mostly just uncomfortable, like that uneasy, tingling sensation you get before you shiver."

Hermione's eyes trailed to his left arm, now hidden from view at his side. "I see."

Snape traced her gaze easily enough. "I will let you see it sometime, but not now."

Hermione jerked her head and couldn't believe what she had heard. "_Really?_"

Snape smirked. "Sure, if you're _that_ curious."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Now you're teasing me."

The corners of Snape's mouth broadened. "I'm not, I assure you."

"I'll pester you about it, you know. I'm a gifted nagger, and I won't give up."

"I'm well-aware of that." After taking a drag, Snape shot her another cold glare, but it was belied by a playful undertone he didn't normally exhibit. "And you call _me_ a stubborn arse."

Hermione shrugged. "Because you are. You're far worse than most."

"I beg to differ. You're pretty obnoxious."

"Oh, that's rich! How flattering you are."

"I have no tolerance, nor filter, for bullshitting."

Hermione laughed in such a way that her cheeks lit up, and Snape found himself lingering on her flawless, flushed skin. "You and me both," she declared.

"Ahhh, but you're still..."

"Diplomatic?"

"Yes."

"No, I'm _nice_, Snape. That's the divide that separates us."

Snape simply snorted again and reverted back to his cigarette, taking several more drags before throwing it into the snow and exhaling its contents into the air. "We should go inside. You must be getting cold."

Hermione admittedly _was_ frozen; they had been in this remote spot most of the afternoon—at least several hours—supposedly discussing the Darks Arts at leisure, but mostly extending their previous conversation about the professor's past. Though he generally spoke in circles or offered Hermione simplified answers, she was grateful for them, nonetheless. Considering how heavily guarded Severus Snape was, and Hermione suspected he had been thus for most, if not all, of his life, she was seeing changes in his demeanor. It was encouraging. He didn't shut himself off as much or shy away from her questions, but when she did ask something he wasn't comfortable disclosing, Snape found a short manner of reply that, in its own form, told Hermione not to prod any further.

Now that it was nearly dusk, Hermione shivered, realizing her limbs had gone numb. "Yes, I _am_ freezing. You're very rude for keeping me out here all day, just so you can smoke."

Snape opened the door and gave her his intense focus, his hand lingering on the handle. "Your interrogations are unpleasant. I should be compensated, shouldn't I?" Hermione shook her wavy locks and stepped inside, allowing Snape to lead her back to his office.

* * *

"You're always disappearing lately, you know that?"

"Disappearing?" Hermione peered at Ron over her book in the common room and noted the animated skepticism in his blue eyes.

"Yes. Your detentions with Snape..."

Hermione inadvertently clutched her book tighter. "What about them?"

They had been on this topic before, and it had ended with foul name calling and Hermione in tears. Her shoulders tensed at the mere reminder, and she braced herself for another heated exchange of words.

"They seem to be going well?" Ron avoided her questioning look and stared at the burning logs in the fireplace.

Hermione, however, kept her attention on him. "What's_ that_ supposed to mean, Ron?"

"Nothing." He turned back to her. "Only, you never complain about it. It's just...strange. Is he even treating you fairly?"

Hermione placed her book in her lap, no longer desiring to hide behind the pages. "Actually, yes, he is treating me well. He's been instructing me."

"Yeah, Harry told me. Nonverbals, potions research—"

"Occlumency and Legilimency."

Ron's face livened. "What? Really? _Why?_"

"Why not?"

Ron scowled, affronted. "You never told me that!"

"You never told me Snape tried to teach you either!"

Ron immediately retracted his offense and gave a sheepish grin. "Yeah... Sorry. I sucked at it. The git didn't waste much time on me. I take it you must be doing pretty well if you're never coming back here in tears?"

For the first time in a long while, Hermione smiled at Ron, and it was one of genuineness, without force. "As it so happens, I _am_ doing well. And I'm really enjoying it, too. It's challenging and stimulating."

"Even if you're being taught by the greasy git?"

Hermione's smile turned into a scowl that matched Ron's from earlier. "Don't call him that."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Because it's rude."

"_Rude?_" Ron's eyes expanded, not following Hermione's logic whatsoever. "I thought Snape _was_ rude. To all of us. Including you, 'Mione."

"He was, and certainly still can be an arse at times, but he's also brilliant, Ron, and probably one of the most highly skilled Legilimens there is. He doesn't _have_ to teach you or me, but he's taken the time to do so regardless, because he knows it may ultimately help and protect us. I'll take my chances and withstand the man's foul temper if it means that I can actually _learn_ from him."

"Bloody hell..." Ron's voice drifted off, as if he were having an out-of-body experience. "You almost sound_ impressed_ by him..."

Hermione shot Ron a glare that made him gulp, wishing at once to eat his words. "So what if I'm impressed? As I said before, he's a great wizard, Ron, without question; whether you like him personally or not doesn't change that reality."

"I didn't mean offense by it."

"Oh, please!"

"Why are you getting so defensive?"

There was no animosity to his question this time; he was truly baffled by Hermione's response and behavior. She shifted uneasily on the sofa and propped her knees up, disappearing behind her book again. She hadn't realized until just then, when it was pointed out to her, how protective she had grown over Severus Snape's moral character. To her dismay, however, Ron wasn't about to give up.

"'Mione, I'm trying to talk to you. Would you stop ignoring me?"

Without seeing his freckled expression, Hermione could hear the hurt in the young man's voice. Sighing, she put down her book again and met his rather saddened gaze.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I'm not trying to ignore you, honest. I'm just tired of everyone giving Snape a hard time, that's all. I've spent a great deal of time with him because of my detentions, and I'm seeing a more positive side to him than most ever get to see. I know he can still be cold at times, temperamental, and far too quick to anger, but he's also instructive, skilled and incredibly smart.

"We've all been wrong about him, Ron, and I can understand why you and Harry are having difficulty believing me, but _it's the truth_. I wouldn't lie to you, so I wish you'd take me at my word and let him alone."

Ron was stumped, and it showed in the rather stupid, perplexed look he gave her. Then he grunted and narrowed his eyes.

"I know you wouldn't lie, 'Mione. But I also fear..."

"What?"

Ron swallowed hard. "I fear that maybe Snape has some kind of hold over you."

"_What?_"

Hermione drew back in alarm, and Ron quickly threw up his hands to stop her from unleashing her anger on him. "Listen, I know how smart the creepy git is, but that's still no excuse for the way he treats us! _No excuse_. I hate hearing you talk so admirably about him, like he's one of _us_ or something!"

"But he _is_, Ron! He's a member of the Order, or have you forgotten that?"

"So what? He hasn't come to many of the meetings, 'Mione, or has that escaped _your_ notice?"

"Oh, Ron, surely you can understand why he hasn't come!"

"Even with Sirius gone, the sod's barely shown his face! Why do you think that is, 'Mione?"

"I don't know!" Hermione ruffled her hair, which was pulled back in a lose bun, and a few spirals tumbled down into her eyes. She threw her legs over the couch and stared Ron down heatedly. "Would you like me to go ask him for you?"

Ron gaped back with his mouth hanging open. "What? No!"

"Very well, then!"

She crossed her arms over her chest without any desire to meet her friend's face. It took several minutes of stifled silence before either one of them spoke again, and Ron was the first to break the tension.

"We seem to be arguing more and more lately, 'Mione. I... I don't like it."

Hermione was struck by his words and peered over at him, this time much more gently. "Neither do I," she confessed with a sigh.

"Could we maybe, erm, spend some time together? Just you and me?"

Hermione felt a rush of heat trickle from her neck onto her cheeks and glanced away nervously. "Oh! Um, well..."

"I was thinking maybe we could go to The Three Broomsticks this weekend? Hang out properly, just you and me."

"Oh, that - that sounds nice."

Ron's face brightened, giving her that goofy grin she used to love. "_Yeah?_ Great! We can go through that secret passageway that Harry's used on the third floor. No one should notice if we're gone a couple hours."

"All right. Um, when?"

"How 'bout Saturday afternoon?"

"Oh, well... I have detention Saturday."

Ron's happiness lessened a notch. "Couldn't Snape give you a break for once? You've had detention every weekend with him since October."

"It's _Snape_, Ron, not Flitwick we're talking about. He won't allow it. You can guarantee it."

Ron chuckled. "Yeah, you're right. Well, when does he let you leave?"

"Five, usually."

"All right, let's meet then, by the one-eyed witch statue."

"All right."

Ron looked away, still grinning from ear to ear and looking quite satisfied with how the exchange had turned out. It almost made Hermione laugh, seeing his silly, crooked smile again. She hadn't seen it in a while and quickly realized just how much she missed him.

"Well, I've got homework to do, and you have practice soon, don't you?"

"Yeah."

Hermione paused and surveyed him with heightened curiosity. "Then why are you still here?"

Ron blinked and met her with an equally queer expression. "Waiting for Ginny."

"Oh." It took every bit of control for Hermione not to burst into fits of laughter. She bit her lower lip hard and tried to suppress the giggles. The boy really_ was_ clueless. "Ron, um, I think she already went down to the Quidditch pitch... With Harry."

"Oh!" Ron, apparently, didn't get the message and shrugged it off. "Well, I guess I should get going then."

"Have fun."

Hermione situated herself back on the couch again, snuggling into the cozy warmth of the hearth and her book, when she was interrupted by Ron. "'Mione, where's Crookshanks?"

"Crookshanks?" she repeated, not understanding why he was scratching his head.

"Yeah. He's been missing a lot lately, hasn't he? I never see him here anymore."

"Oh! Um, yeah, he's been wandering around the castle a lot more."

_Merlin, if Ron or Harry knew where Crooks hangs out now..._

"Why? He's normally with you, always following you everywhere."

Hermione tried to come off as nonchalant, but inside she was panicking. If Ron discovered where Crookshanks _really_ was spending so much time, he and Harry would question her excessively over the matter, not to mention grow suspicious.

"Yeah, well, I think the confines of the common room are becoming tiresome for him," she lied. "He's doesn't like people, so I'm sure he needs some breathing space from all of you."

Ron smirked, seemingly satisfied with her answer, and slouched off to Quidditch practice without another word. As soon as the tower door was shut, Hermione leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief.

_Oh, Crooks. I hope you aren't being too much of a bother._

Then she smiled, blushing a little as her mind momentarily wandered. Hermione returned to her copy of _Advanced Potion-making_ and tried not to give the wizard any more thought.

* * *

"Severus?"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"The girl... Is she fertile?"

"I believe so. She's young."

"Is she on the potion?"

"I would imagine so, at her age."

_Why the hell would I know _that_ information?_

"You must find out."

_Over my dead body._

"Certainly, my Lord." Several evil snickers made their way around the table, but Severus kept his expression blank.

"You see," Voldemort twirled his wand in hand, pacing around the table very quietly, "I believe that, despite the fact that she's a Mudblood, death might be too good for her."

"_What?_" Bellatrix's unanticipated, high-pitched squawk hovered in the air, and her expression that followed bordered on terror at interrupting her master, something the Death Eaters never did.

"Don't interrupt me, Bellatrix," Voldemort hissed, his voice exceedingly calm but menacing, nonetheless.

Bellatrix hung her head and scooted back in her chair, diverting her eyes from her master at all costs. Severus remained ever still in his spot as the Dark Lord took a seat beside him, though inwardly he was exceedingly satisfied with seeing the mad witch get a public scolding.

"I am contemplating now whether or not to kill her," Voldemort continued. "Surely, she will serve little use to us once we're through with her; however, she will be so distraught over the horrors we unleash she may prove a submissive addition to our party."

"My Lord?"

It was Lucius who spoke up now, and he and Narcissa exchanged puzzled looks along with the rest of the Death Eaters, all unsure by these turn of events. The Dark Lord never questioned killing Muggle-borns; what made Hermione Granger any different?

"A slave, Lucius," came Voldemort's answer. The most delicious grin formed along his mouth as Severus and the others had ever seen. "_My slave_," he whispered, uttering the words as if she were already his concubine, his to do with as he pleased, _his own_. "I believe once the boy is defeated, we should make proper use of our fellow Muggle-borns. Perhaps wiping them _all_ out is simply too easy. I think there are many uses we can find for a select group of them, including the clever Mudblood witch."

Severus's right hand, concealed beneath his left, knotted into a fist. The rage coursing through his veins was so palpable, so strong, so overpowering that he could have reached for his wand and killed the maniac then and there, and the fool wouldn't even know what hit him.

_But he couldn't._ Severus Snape would never be permitted to do what he truly wanted. He would sit and endure whatever pain was necessary. Thus, he focused all his efforts on not grinding his teeth.

"We have a great deal of time yet before this will happen, of course, but I want to be as thoroughly prepared as possible. I have put off these plans for far too long now. Severus, I would like an answer to my question about Miss Granger when we meet next."

"Yes, my Lord."

"She will be most advantageous to us and might serve a greater purpose yet..."

"What did you have in mind, my Lord?" asked a Death Eater named Avery, seated a few seats down from Severus. His soiled, brown hair and worn appearance from his long stint in Azkaban prison had made the contortions of his face grim, but he was as much the eager follower as Severus remembered, if not slightly mad. They had once been schoolmates, but Severus hardly considered the man a friend. Not now.

"_That_, Avery, I will disclose at the proper time."

Severus scrutinized the inhuman figure at his side with discretion, but inside his stomach was churning. Just a few months ago, he might have been willing to accept Hermione's demise, since, as Dumbledore kept reiterating, it would 'serve a higher purpose' and, ultimately, help Potter. But now, having gotten to know the Gryffindor—that kindhearted, gentle creature he was growing more and more fond of with each passing day—his guilty conscience couldn't accept such a catastrophe.

He eyed Voldemort with a masked loathing the wizard would never detect. _Before this is over, I_ will _wrap that bloody snake around your neck and suffocate you myself. With my bare hands._

"I am counting on you, Severus."

"I will have more information for you soon, my Lord; I guarantee it."

"Excellent," Voldemort sneered, pleased with his most loyal and dedicated of servants.

* * *

"Why is your research on hold?"

Snape halted brewing to meet Hermione's curious gaze. "I'm simply too busy at the moment. The orders flooding in from St. Mungo's and several apothecaries have made my ability to work on anything else impossible."

"Oh... Is it because of all these attacks?"

Many strange occurrences and alarming deaths were making _The Daily Prophet_; it was impossible for anyone to ignore anymore, and Snape acknowledged her inquiry with a firm nod.

"Yes, unfortunately."

"I'm sorry you haven't had much time for your own work. I know how important that is to you."

Snape growled, but not aggressively. "Well, there's my professional duties as well keeping me from my research. Your classmates are giving me more of a headache than I bargained for."

At this, Hermione snickered. "_You_ were the one who gave us the triple assignment, remember?"

"Yes, I did," Snape answered testily with his back turned; he threw a handful of Gillyweed into his cauldron, causing the contents to steam and froth. "But I expected far greater accuracy than what I was presented with, _from all of you_. I've spent more time than I ever planned on correcting your horrid essays. You're sixth years! I would think you had developed half a brain by now."

Hermione frowned, and a wave of academic panic swept over her. "How did _I_ fare?"

Snape whipped his head around, glowering at her in a manner that wasn't exactly encouraging. Hermione felt her heart start to race.

Without a word, Snape stalked to his desk, whisked through a pile of papers, and levitated several pieces of parchment towards her, though he seemed to be throwing it at her instead, and with some evidence of disgust or disappointment, she wasn't sure.

Hermione's frantic eyes scanned her essay. Seeing several harsh, red markings that only turned into greater and more frequent amounts the further she delved, Hermione's hands began to tremble.

"_What?_ What is _this_ load of rubbish? _What is this?_"

Snape crossed his arms, his eyes turning into slits as he stared without sympathy, his entire form unyielding. "I beg your pardon?"

Hermione slammed down her parchment. Her face was livid. "You have unattainable expectations, you know that?"

Snape grunted with mockery, which only made Hermione more infuriated. "You have lofty expectations of yourself," he spat in return.

"No, I don't! You're entirely unreasonable! My sources on familiars and their illegal uses were _more_ than adequate! I spent the better part of a week in the library just gathering the right resources for you!"

"Is that supposed to garner you my sympathies, Granger?"

Hermione growled, sounding very much like the Potions Master, and the sound took him aback. "_No_, I meant that I actually put a lot of thought and care into this essay! And I think it was well done and well-thought out, for that matter!"

"Wrong."

"_What?_"

"Did you even attempt to explain the importance of the Mandrake root to how familiars take form? You touched upon it, but that was all. You didn't go into any remarkable detail." Seeing a dreaded awareness creep onto Hermione's flushed cheeks, Snape smirked and continued. "Figures carved from the Mandrake root—one of the many entryways that allow familiars to take form—are also the most dangerous, even if they are the most uncommon method familiars use to manifest. You should have discussed that in more concrete detail, Hermione. That is why I deducted points from your otherwise very sufficient essay."

"You - You're just being nitpicky!" she exclaimed after a short pause had passed.

Snape met her challenge with a dark look. "Am I?"

"You're expectations are impossible to meet, Snape, even for _me!_"

"You're whining like a toddler, Hermione, and it's very unbecoming."

"_What?_ I am not! I'm trying to get you to be reasonable!"

"On the contrary, I _am_ very reasonable. You didn't even read the feedback I left you. Challenge me again once you've actually _read_ what I wrote."

With that, Snape turned away with a prolonged sigh, leaving Hermione exasperated and shaken in her chair, clutching her essay in one quivering hand. After several minutes passed in silence, during which Crookshanks weaved in and out of Hermione's feet, Snape finally heard her speak up, and rather feebly, too.

"Sorry for my outburst."

Snape smiled discretely before masking his face into one of reserve and met her with his usual scowl. "Have you calmed down enough to look it over?"

"Yes, I have," she mumbled.

"And?"

"It makes more sense now," she muttered, not really wanting to admit so just yet. "Thank you."

"Hermione, you still received reasonable marks. If you must know, you got the highest grade in your class—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she sighed and turned away, looking rather put out.

Snape's reaction was grim, seeing the disappointment on Hermione's pretty countenance. "And you're still displeased?"

Hermione met his eyes, but they weren't warm or inviting anymore; they were rather dejected. "A little."

"You are too hard on yourself," Snape urged with feeling, as well as a concern that surprised her.

"I wanted to do well, that's all."

"You _always_ want to exceed everyone's expectations, Hermione. When will you actually do something to please _yourself?_"

Hermione was hardly prepared for such a question, and from the 'dreadful' Slytherin Head of House of all people. She surveyed him anew, making note of the abstract solicitude in his deep, ebony-colored irises. Was that fondness she was reading, or was she simply pulling at strings? Hermione prayed it wasn't the latter.

"I - I'm always trying to please myself. I try to do well because I _want_ to do well."

"Be honest with yourself."

Hermione grew nervous at the growing intensity of Snape's stare; it was as if he were looking straight into her soul and tearing apart every private insecurity she had limb by limb.

"I _am_ being honest..."

"Hermione," Snape pressed with an unnatural gentleness, "you put all your energy into being the best because you don't think you have anything else to offer. Am I right?"

"Well, when you put it like that..." She squirmed, uneasy.

"I didn't mean to offend you. I'm trying to bring you to the heart of the matter."

"Isn't wanting to be the best a praised attribute?" Snape didn't like the near offense to her tone. "_I'd_ like to think so."

"You're far too clever to believe that nonsense, Hermione."

"Then tell me what my problem is."

"I'd rather _you_ tell me."

"So, I _do_ have a problem then?"

"You are getting far too defensive."

"Well, you're the one who seems hell-bent on dissecting my every flaw, _so go ahead!_"

"Hermione—"

"What's wrong with being smart?"

"I never insinuated that there was anything wrong with your intellect." Snape quickly crossed the room and stood in front of her, peering down with a stern mouth, but without any hint of malice or anger. "As a matter of fact, I think your intellect is your greatest attribute _and_ your greatest weapon; however, it isn't the only thing worth having, Hermione. You know that. I know you do."

Hermione's hard expression softened, but only a little. "What are you—"

"I think you strive to be the best for the wrong reasons, Hermione. You pressure yourself because you think everything else about you is inadequate and not worth having, to anyone."

"I... But... In all fairness, _you_ do the same thing."

Snape's eyebrows rose. "True, but you are young, and can prevent yourself from making the same mistakes I have."

"Wait, that isn't fair—"

"Aren't I correct?"

"Snape, stop."

"Hermione, life isn't just about being the best at something—"

"And you'd know all about having a life, wouldn't you?"

As soon as the words escaped her lips, Hermione regretted them. The flicker of either assault or pain that crept across Snape's eyes made her want to Disapparate on the spot.

"I'm sorry, Snape," she whispered almost immediately. "That was wrong of me... I didn't mean it, I swear."

Hermione could no longer look at him, so she darted her eyes towards the floor, wanting to forget that Snape was still there, when she heard his strained voice reply to her very softly, "No... You're right..."

By the time Hermione glanced up again, he was already across the room with his back turned. He began mechanically brewing the potion he had been working on moments ago.

Hermione had never felt so horrible and cringed outright. Hearing his concurring response made her want to leap across the divide that separated them and wrap him in an apologetic hug, but all she could do was stare and grow lost in the details that were so much the wizard's own, and for which she had grown quite fond of.

Snape had removed his black coat and had his hair tied back in a loose ponytail; she had never seen him this relaxed in her presence, entirely in his element without the formal demeanor and stiffness he normally carried around with him. His white, button down undershirt hung free from his pants, and his right sleeve was rolled up, giving Hermione a rare glimpse of his forearm. The muscles were surprisingly well-defined, his skin pale and flawless—like porcelain—with several prominent blue veins. His left arm, naturally, remained covered. And she knew why.

Hermione had been enjoying this sight—and side—to Snape all day, but now his broad shoulders were hunched over, his head was bent low, and there was no liveliness to his actions anymore. Crookshank's soft meow at Hermione's feet acted as the prodding she needed to go to him.

Without giving a second thought, Hermione rose from her desk and crossed the room, hanging back from Snape to toy with her hands. "Snape, please," she beseeched tacitly, "I had no right to say that. That was awful of me. Please forgive me? I have a terrible knack for lashing out when I'm angry; nature of habit, I guess, but it doesn't make it right. I'm so sorry."

She sensed him listening and hanging on to every word, but his right arm persisted, stirring the cauldron in an elegant, but automatic, fashion; it was not the way he normally performed his work, and he seemed adamant at not looking at her.

Hermione felt her heart drop into her stomach when no response came. She didn't know why she felt such a strong urge to touch him, to make him_ feel_ her regret, to let him know that his feelings actually_ mattered_ to her. This time, Hermione didn't hesitate.

Outstretching her arm, Hermione gently made contact with Snape's back and felt an immediate response to her touch. His entire upper body stiffened for a moment, then relaxed. He stopped brewing but kept his head down. Hermione, meanwhile, let her fingers explore the back muscles outlined beneath his shirt, and her warm palm tried to soothe the tension—_him_, really—with slow, circular massages. She heard his breath sharpen a few times as her hand glided along his spine, around the strong tendons, wanting nothing more than to comfort, to touch, to feel _him_...

Gradually, he turned around, and when his eyes met hers, they were entirely open and exposed. Hermione almost let out a small cry at being able to decipher them wholly and unconditionally for the very first time. Their dark depths spoke of nothing but emotional torture, growing more and more morose by the second.

Hermione's hand came to rest on Snape's hip, and she instinctively eased herself into him, wanting to be near. Snape bent his head lower, which allowed his hair to tumble forward. He didn't understand this draw—this insistent pull to be close to the young witch—and could hardly make sense of his reaction to what she said either. It stung far more than he expected. The old Severus Snape wouldn't have given a damn, wouldn't have paid her opinions or perceptions of him any mind whatsoever; but now? He cared. _Oh, yes, he cared..._

"Snape," he heard Hermione whisper, her utterance of his name filled with longing.

A warm palm suddenly brushed strands of his hair, smoothing them away. Snape reacted willingly and closed his eyes, feeling that surge course through him again, that enchanting, overpowering sensation that Hermione's touch could bring. He wanted more.

"Hermione..."

"Please, listen to me? I don't like hurting you. And I know you don't like hurting me either, even if you _do_ pretend not to give a damn. I'm sor—"

"No. Don't apologize again."

"But I _want_ to. Please open your eyes," she begged, her whisper so close he could feel her heated breaths against his face. "I'd really like you to look at me, if you would?"

Snape obeyed without scruple, and there was a strange, new wonderment that passed between them when his eyes opened. Hermione's hand was now cupping his cheek, caressing it as if it were fragile and on the verge of breaking.

"You don't need to apologize," he managed with a restrained voice, his vision getting lost in the beauty of rich, all-consuming caramel. "You were right. I do not know what it is like to _live_ a meaningful life. I have been alone for virtually all of mine, and have experienced nothing of value. You had every right to say it. I shouldn't give advice to you, or to anyone, when I have nothing to show for myself..."

"Don't say that, Snape! I know I've only gotten glimpses into your world, but I _know_ what you're getting at, and _you're not worthless_. You have so much to offer; I - I should have been more appreciative these past few months that you've been instructing me. Forgive me?"

Hermione was surprised to feel Snape's fingers glide up the front of her arm to intertwine with hers—the one that held possession of his cheek—and clasp it tightly. "There is no need," he pressed very softly, "I have treated you inhumanely in every way possible; not just these last months, but for the past six years. I have been unpardonable towards you, Hermione. You are within every right to resent me. And I have no place telling you how to live your life. I am a universally despised man, and for good reason."

Hermione felt a lump form at the back of her throat, and she reacted by wrapping her one arm more firmly around his waist. "_I_ don't despise you."

A muscle in Snape's opposite cheek twitched. "_You should_."

"Stop that. Take your own advice, Snape."

"What?"

Hermione smiled, loving the endearing crease forming between Snape's eyes. He was rather adorable to her when he was genuinely confused and unsure of himself. It spoke to that rare vulnerability she was glimpsing more and more, and only made him sweeter and more appealing.

"You told me not to be so hard on myself. Neither should _you_."

Snape's sour demeanor, however, didn't waver. "I have every reason to feel as I do, Hermione. Don't listen to me."

"What do you mean? After all that griping at the beginning of my detentions about how I _should_ listen to what you say?"

Hermione was trying to get things back to where they were before—light and easy—and wanted the man to crack a smile, even if just for her sake. But to her disappointment, he only continued to glower. "Like I said," he repeated emotionlessly, "don't listen to me."

Then Snape released his hand from hers and stared in defeat. Hermione wasn't about to give up though. She brushed herself up against him and wrapped him in her arms, stretching her neck to keep his attention focused on her. Snape inhaled sharply at the unusual feeling of the young woman's warmth pressed up against him. His chest contracted, and his heart beat faster.

"You feel this, Snape?" said Hermione with a tenderness that tugged at his insides. "This is what it means to be embraced by someone who cares about you. _I_ care about _you_. I know this is probably inappropriate, given our relationship, but _this_ is what life is all about, Snape...

"You may still be my professor, but you've also become my friend. And I want you to _feel_ accepted, whole, cared about... I - I care about you - very much - and it isn't enough that you simply know it, Snape; _you should feel it, too_."

Hermione watched intently for Snape's response and was struck down by the emotional torment that surfaced. He didn't know how to respond. And after an excruciating pause, Hermione also became aware of another gut-wrenching reality: Snape didn't know how to hug her back.

Surely, he knew 'how' it was done, but he was so inexperienced and so unaccustomed to any sort of physical contact, that he had been rendered inept at returning something that, to everyone else, felt so natural. He was too fragile, and the reality of the dark, misunderstood wizard's predicament in that moment broke Hermione's heart.

She swallowed her anguish as best she could and stared deep into his eyes. "Put your arms around me, Snape." The frighteningly skittish reaction her request garnered was almost enough to deter her, but she pulled him closer, not wanting to give him the opportunity to back away. "I won't break," she bated gently, trying to coax him out of any uneasiness. "You won't hurt me, I promise. I _want_ you to bring me into your arms, Snape. It's what friends do."

_Not like _this_, Hermione. Friends don't hug like this. What _exactly_ are you doing?_

It took Snape nearly a whole minute to put his arms—a little stiff and awkward—around her shoulders, but eventually they both found their nook within each other's embrace, and Hermione finally felt the collapse of all of Snape's tension. He leaned his head down and sighed when she wove her arms more tightly around his back, pressing him to her without disgust or repulsion.

"There," Hermione whispered against his ear. She shut her eyes, enjoying for herself the wonderful feel of Snape's hold on her in a warm way that she had never experienced before; not with Ron, not with Harry, not with anyone. Snape's embrace was powerful, and in some odd way made her feel complete. She craved more. No one had ever embraced her like this.

"See? This isn't so bad, is it?"

"I..."

Hermione rubbed her hand gently up and down his back, and Snape finally bowed to the Gryffindor's will. He let go of any lingering hesitation at last and simply allowed himself to feel this long-forgotten sensation.

It was an extended period of time before they pulled away from one another, but a fresh awareness had settled once they broke apart. Something peculiar and arresting hovered in the air as Hermione made to take her leave and meet Ron for dinner. She didn't want to go at all, and her departure put Snape back into a weird, glowering sort of mood.

Hermione couldn't make sense of the cold response she received from him when she told him about her dinner plans. She dared not mention Hogsmeade, as it was not a visitation weekend, but Snape still reacted sourly. Either he was displeased with her spending time with Ron, and, in turn, away from him, or he was upset with _her_ over something she didn't know. Hermione desperately hoped the vague, ugly expression on his face had something to do with the former.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Hermione tentatively gathered up her belongings, feeling not at all good with how they were leaving things. Their embrace had been wonderful, but now the atmosphere was stifling and rather bitter. How had things turned so quickly?

"Very well," Snape responded and turned away with an air of indifference. "Have a pleasant evening."

"Um, thanks. You, too. Good night, Snape..."

* * *

**A/N #2: We've progressed to a hug (finally!). Remember, the poor guy has been emotionally and physically starved of any level of affection most of his life (at least in _this_ story), so a hug is kind of a big deal for him.  
**


	20. Severus

**A/N: ****I think the title of this chapter speaks for itself. :) ****If you haven't checked out the "I do dare" illustration by Saniika that accompanies a scene in this chapter, don't miss it (link's on my Profile). It's gorgeous and, I think, captures this moment in the story beautifully.**  


**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 20: "Severus"**

Ron was prompt and waiting for Hermione on the third floor by the time she made her way up the moving staircases. Immediately, she thought his presence a bit odd and unusual; normally it was Ron who was lagging behind, always keeping her and Harry waiting. Not tonight though.

He was leaning against the statue of the grotesque-looking one-eyed witch with his hands buried in his coat pockets. Hermione detected something off about him as she drew closer. He seemed nervous, especially once he caught sight of her, and shifted his weight back and forth whilst mumbling something inaudible under his breath.

"Hey, 'Mione."

"Hey."

"Hope you're hungry."

"I _am_, actually."

"Great!" He gave her his goofy grin, but his voice sounded a little strained.

"Everything all right?" she asked, as her eyes darted around the darkened corridor to make sure no one was lingering about.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Where's your coat?"

"Oh, rats! I forgot to stop at the common room."

It was nearly the end of February now, but winter was keeping up its relentless pursuit, bringing new blankets of snow almost daily, and the chill was unbearable to Hermione. She contemplated trekking back to Gryffindor Tower to get her coat before thinking better of it.

"It's fine; we won't be wandering around outside anyhow."

"Yeah, true." Ron shot her a funny look. "So, how are you?"

"I'm fine." Hermione quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing a rosy hue that had nothing to do with the exercise she had gotten on her way there.

"How was your detention with the greasy— I mean, erm, Snape?"

"Good."

"_Good?_"

Hermione arched an eyebrow and glanced at her friend sideways. "Yes... Um, are we going?"

"Oh, yeah, right..."

Hermione whipped out her wand first and muttered the incantation that would lead them into the cellar of Honeydukes. "_Dissendium_," she cast, and the statue changed, allowing them both to pass through to a trap door beneath the shop.

Having been to Hogsmeade many times before but unaccustomed to this secret passageway Harry had used in their third year, they made their way up the stairs and into the bustling chaos of Honeydukes as quickly as possible. Plenty of customers were still hanging about, trying out the various sweets and delicious items on display.

"C'mon," Hermione urged.

They trod quickly out into the frosty, winter snow and made their way to The Three Broomsticks not far away. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, instantly regretting not having her coat to keep warm. The attentive ginger at her side noticed.

"You want mine?" he offered, but Hermione shot him down, more abrasively than she had meant to.

"No, don't be silly. We're nearly there."

The place was buzzing with customers when they entered. The atmosphere was warm, cozy, and Hermione and Ron took a spot at a remote booth in the corner.

"I'll get us Butterbeers," Ron started, but Hermione tried to stop him.

"Oh, um, are you sure? I could pay for them, Ron—"

"'Mione, I _can_ afford Butterbeers; I'm not _that_ financially strapped."

"Sorry, wasn't trying to imply that you were. I just—"

"I got it." He stalked off, and was visibly put out by her offer.

_This is going to be a trip._ Hermione moaned. _I could have stayed back at the castle... I could have stayed with Snape... _Hermione violently shook her head._ What's come over you? Stop acting like a ninny! He's your friend, and that's it._

Ron soon returned with their drinks, thankfully appearing in better sorts than before. Hermione was surprised, however, at how quickly Ron reverted back to her detentions.

"So, things went well today?"

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah, it was fine. I finished my Transfiguration homework, and then did a little bit of research..."

_...on Horcruxes. And hugged Professor Snape in an entirely inappropriate manner..._

"Research on what?"

"Oh, um, Occlumency. I just want to extend my knowledge."

"I think Harry's a little jealous of how well you're doing, you know."

Hermione laughed and was relieved to find Ron's facial features relaxing, too, evidence of the good friend she had known coming back. "I'm sure he is. He wasn't any good at it."

"Neither am I."

Hermione gave him a reproving look. "It takes too much focus for you boys. You'd both much rather be doing other things, I'm sure."

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, true. Harry and Snape were too combative for those lessons to go anywhere, and I just didn't have the patience; got frustrated too quickly, even without Snape riding my arse and egging me on."

Hermione couldn't help but smile, thinking about the snarky professor—_her friend_—having a go at Ron. If there was one thing Severus Snape was a perfectionist at—though there were, in fact, _several_—Hermione reflected with a snicker, it was his ability to frustrate the hell out of others, particularly students like Ron, with just a few chosen words.

"Well, he has very little patience, you know," she quipped, taking a sip of her Butterbeer.

"Yeah, no kidding. He had zero tolerance for me; just as well. I don't have any for him either."

Hermione took another sip of her Butterbeer, trying not to bite her tongue in the process. When she was through, she quickly changed the subject by introducing another.

"How are _you_ feeling? I - I never really asked you about..."

It took Ron a moment to figure out what Hermione was getting at, but once he became aware, he sulked appropriately. "I'm fine," he grumbled unconvincingly. "I was angry at first, more with myself then with her, but I'm slowly realizing it really _was_ for the best."

"Oh?" Hermione detested herself for trying to act so cool over the matter when for months she had been desperate for Ron to reach that very conclusion.

"Yeah... We really weren't compatible, Lavender and I. And really, all she wanted to do was snog."

Hermione nearly choked on the froth of her Butterbeer and hastily dabbed at her lips. "What?"

"Yeah, that's right." Ron shot her a sardonic smirk. "Round-the-clock snogging. My lips were swollen all the time. Didn't you notice? It got old real fast."

"Ron... You do realize that in a relationship you're normally supposed to _want_ to snog the person you're with, preferably most of the time."

Ron snickered with an emphatic nod. "Yeah, I know. I guess..." his voice drifted off before he found it again, replying with an unfamiliar fondness, "I guess I've just been snogging the wrong girl all this time..."

"Oh?" Hermione almost dropped her Butterbeer. It catapulted onto the table with a loud thud. "Oh..."

"You all right?"

"Erm, yeah, fine. You - You were saying?"

Ron leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. "'Mione, I think it's time we were both forthright with each other, don't you think?"

Hermione, however, was at a loss for words, caught somewhere between bliss and her own personal hell. "I... Um... Well..."

"I know you're nervous. I am, too."

"Yes, but—"

"'Mione, I'd like to give it a go, if - if you're willing?"

"Give it a go?"

"Yeah." Ron's cheeks burned, causing his freckles to break out into distinguishable red dots. "_You know_..."

"No, I don't," Hermione lied, playing dumb and growing a little miffed with herself.

Ron, however, chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "I'd like to _date_ you, 'Mione. I - I've been assuming that you've wanted to do the same?"

"Oh!" Despite her drink, Hermione's throat was parched. "Well, I..."

Ron took her pause as a direct slight, and his eyebrows narrowed. "Don't you have feelings for me?"

"I—"

"Was I mistaken?"

"Well—"

"Was everything Harry told me a lie?"

"_Harry_ told you?"

Hermione didn't want to act surprised; after all, she assumed her best friend was encouraging Ron to approach her, just as he had been trying to get her to do the same for months, but her chest still fumed with anger at knowing what Harry had been up to.

"Yeah, he told me you had feelings for me. And judging by the way you've been acting for a while, I kind of thought the same."

"Well, I... Yes, I did, but—"

"You _did?_" Ron's forehead crinkled, showing his befuddlement. "As in, past tense? I don't understand..."

Hermione swallowed her hesitation and drew a deep breath. "Honestly, Ron, I don't understand either."

"So you _did_ have feelings for me?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"And now you don't?"

"No, I... I still do."

Ron leaned back, surveying her with overt skepticism. "So what's the problem?"

"I..."

Hermione stammered, fumbling with how to respond. She was admittedly confused but also wanted to be direct and honest. She knew this was her opportunity at last—the moment she had been waiting for a long time—and, with her luck, she was already screwing it up.

"I - I'm not sure. I guess I'm just, um, confused. I wasn't expecting to have this conversation tonight..."

"Why does the timing manner? 'Mione, I'm asking to date you, not marry you."

Hermione reared back. "Well, that's nice, Ron."

"What? What did I say?"

"Never mind!"

"'Mione, honestly, what did I do?"

"Nothing, Ron. I'm sorry. I just... I..."

"_Yes?_"

"Um, I need some air."

Hermione shot out of her seat and headed for the door before Ron could even process what she had said. Hermione stomped into the snow and paced back and forth, violently wringing her hands to shake off her nerves, but to no end.

_Damn it! Shit! What's wrong with me? Hermione, this is your opportunity! You wanted this. You've been waiting for this. Forever. Go back in there before he changes his mind!_

Hermione nodded, as if her thoughts were being directed to her aloud, and went to grab the handle, then fleetingly changed her mind. "Ugh! Merlin, what the hell's wrong with me?"

The forbidding chill of winter hit her exposed skin like a whip, and Hermione suddenly became aware of just how cold it was and shivered accordingly. She was just starting to pace again when the entrance to The Three Broomsticks burst open, and Ron came barreling out into the snow.

"'Mione!" he panted. "What's wrong? Are you all right?"

"Yeah, erm, I'm fine. Sorry. I needed to clear my head."

_I_ still _need to clear my head!_

"So..." Ron shuffled before her, looking quite uncomfortable.

"Could I... Could I have some time?" Hermione loathed how utterly dumb she sounded and tried not to shrink from him altogether. "I just— This was all really unexpected for me, and I'm having trouble thinking clearly. I just want some time. Can you give me that, Ron? _Please?_"

Hermione half expected her friend to pick another row with her, but instead he stepped forward into her personal sphere and gave her a mushy, crooked grin. "Sure, 'Mione. Take whatever time you need."

Startling her further, he reached out and stroked her frozen cheek, and his touch was coarser than she expected. She wasn't quite sure if she even liked it, but she allowed it of him anyway.

"I'll wait for you," he murmured with yearning—for _her_—in a manner she had never heard him express before.

Hermione could only hitch a breath and manage a "Thank you," in return.

Ron maintained his smile but stepped back, giving her some space. "Well, should we head back inside and finish our Butterbeers? You have to be freezing."

"Y - Yes, I am," she chuckled. "Let's go inside."

Hermione followed Ron back into the warm dwelling they had so often frequented for years, though no longer desiring its familiar comforts. She wanted to get away, to go off and be alone with her thoughts. But instead, she endured another two hours or so with Ron and found the whole outing terribly tricky and untoward.

Her silly, romantic notions of what this moment would be like when it finally came were snatched away with the night, leaving Hermione surprisingly empty. By the time they headed back to Hogwarts, Hermione was desperate to be by herself, perhaps in her private quarters, and as she trudged up the stairs—every step a struggle—her weary eyes alerted to something important.

"Crooks..."

She needed him tonight. She didn't care if he was with Snape. He was her feline anyhow and had been her source of comfort through many trials. And she wanted him by her side this evening. She groaned sluggishly and made her way back out of Gryffindor Tower.

When Hermione reached the D.A.D.A. classroom, she bolted inside without knocking and found it deserted. There was no light coming from underneath Snape's office door either.

"Blast," she whispered into the darkness, before considering her other alternative.

_He wouldn't have taken Crooks to his private quarters, would he? _Hermione ran off to the dungeons and reached Snape's chambers in no time, hoping he wasn't asleep. _Of course he's not asleep, Hermione. He's an insomniac. And he's probably not even here._

Regardless, Hermione knocked, first softly, then more excitedly when she thought she detected mumbling—perhaps that familiar growl—coming from within. She was just about to knock again when the oak door creaked open and the outline of Severus Snape loomed in the doorway. The torches lining the corridor were faint, and Snape's face was hardly visible from the dim candlelight coming from somewhere inside his room. He was still dressed as casually as he had been earlier.

"Hermione?" he greeted roughly.

Once Hermione's eyesight adjusted and she was able to make out his face better, she noted how disheveled he looked. His hair was messy and unkempt, as were his shirt and trousers, and he looked perceivably shaken over something; or perhaps distracted.

"Sorry, Snape." He was severely worn and tired, she could tell. She couldn't stop herself from frowning. "Were you sleeping? I hope I didn't wake you..."

Snape snorted and whisked a few hairs out of his eyes. "No, of course not. It's not even nine o'clock. I was working on a few things..."

"Oh! Well, I won't keep you, I'm just looking for Crooks. Is he here?"

Snape cracked a smile, and the mere sight made Hermione's insides do somersaults. Why was he having such an effect on her? It was both intriguing and disconcerting.

"Indeed, he is, and has been quite a pest."

Hermione willingly returned his smile. "Oh, dear."

Snape invited her in, another surprise Hermione hadn't anticipated. She was additionally taken aback by what her eyesight was met with.

Snape's quarters were rich, elegant, and remarkable-looking. There were several large bookcases along the walls that were stacked to the ceiling with all assortment of reading material, which Hermione instantly gravitated towards. The coverings, the worn bindings that told her they had all been labored over, and probably more than once, that stale smell of withered pages she loved so much...

There was a large, elegantly-carved fireplace on the right-hand side of the room and an expansive four-poster, mahogany bed to the left, with a silk, emerald canopy and matching covers. Positioned against the wall between the two was a rectangular desk, neatly stacked with all the necessary assortments of quills, ink, parchment, and correspondences. And an oval-shaped, intricately detailed carpet situated in the very center of the room with the design of a coiling, green snake added a bit more personal touch. She wanted to giggle, but smiled instead.

"Impressive," she breathed, soaking everything in.

"Yes?" Snape privately ruminated over the young lady's reaction.

"Beats my dormitory, that's for sure."

Snape smirked outright. "I should hope so. It would be rather embarrassing for the Head of Slytherin House if it didn't."

"That _would_ be a tragedy." Hermione shook her thick curls. "So, where's my Crooks?"

Snape nodded towards the bed. "Right where you'd expect him to be."

It was only then that Hermione spotted the orange feline, sprawled out in the middle of the wizard's bed, quite content and with no thought of moving from such a luxurious spot. He barely even acknowledged her presence.

"Crooks," Hermione scolded, shaking her head, "that's very rude, Mister."

"I couldn't get him to return to Gryffindor Tower. It would appear he insisted on waiting for _you_ to return to _him_."

"And didn't wish to be left alone in the interim."

Hermione turned to Snape, very much enjoying the sight of his fortuitous display. Just a few months ago, she wouldn't have dreamed of seeing her former Potions Master in such a light or especially of taking pleasure in it. But now, it was enticing, even rather adorable.

He ran his fingers through his hair, unaware of her attention. "Yes, well, your cat is a strange one. And terribly spoiled."

"Oh, come off it. I think you two have more of a liking for each other than you're letting on."

Snape rolled his eyes and turned away to the crackling fireplace. Seeing the bags beneath his eyes, defined by the bright orange and yellow hues emitting from the hearth, brought Hermione out of her playfulness. She scooped Crooks up into her arms. He meowed in protest, but allowed his mistress to secure him within her grasp.

"You all right?" she whispered, unable to stop herself.

Snape blinked, as if he had momentarily forgotten she was there. His black eyes took her in for a long moment.

"Yes, I'm fine. How was your time with Weasley?"

"Oh." Hermione had all but forgotten her outing in the interim that she had been with Snape, and the reality made her blush, but not at all with elation. "Yes. _That..._"

Snape raised a curious eyebrow. "Did it not go well?"

"It was fine. Just a little awkward."

"You didn't eat here, did you?"

Hermione wanted to leap out of her skin at his narrowed eyes and skeptical sneer. "Of course I did. Why?"

"You're lying."

"How would you know?"

_Foolish question, Hermione!_

Snape's unsettling look was more than enough to put her stomach in knots. He knew.

"You really want to know?" he bated, a little more dangerously than she would have liked.

"No, I don't." Hermione re-gathered Crookshanks in her arms and hurried to the door. "Goodnight, Snape."

"Just a moment." His powerful command was enough to make Hermione obey, even if her heart was pounding. "With the Dark Lord returned and many of his followers now out of Azkaban roaming free, and with the attacks on wizards now happening daily, it was extremely foolish of you both to leave Hogwarts, and without mine or anyone's permission. Whose idea was it?"

Hermione couldn't reply, only bite her lip and stare at the dark wizard with trepidation. Snape quickly mumbled something irritably under his breath and shook his head.

"_Weasley, that dunce!_"

"Honestly, Snape, it wasn't his fault! I agreed to go with him—"

"_Where?_"

"Um, The Three Broomsticks..."

"Have you any idea how careless that was of you? _Have you, Hermione?_"

Hermione stepped backward, startled by the emotion and alarm seeping through Snape's anger. She angled her head curiously.

"Yes, I am. We kept to ourselves and stayed out of sight. I didn't mean to worry you."

Snape's stern expression morphed into a more guarded, cryptic countenance. "You didn't worry me," he replied, rather too hastily. "I just don't want you to make such a ridiculous move like that again. If you stumbled across the wrong individuals, Death Eaters who knew who you are..."

Hermione glided towards him with Crookshanks in tow and stared up into his face. "I won't do it again," she stated quietly, her eyes beautifully opulent and magnetic against the orange flames; or so Snape thought. "I really am sorry. I promise I won't be so careless again, Snape."

Snape drew a heavy breath but kept his focus. "Very well. I would appreciate it if you kept your word and stayed here where it's safer."

"I will."

"Thank you."

Hermione found herself smiling again, despite how grave the conversation had turned. "Aren't you going to punish me? Serve me with another round of detentions?"

Snape's obsidian eyes glistened, and the sight made her heart flutter against her chest. "You're already fortunate enough to be serving detentions with me."

"True..."

"And as much as I take enjoyment in making that idiot friend of yours, Weasley, squirm—and the halfwit is certainly deserving of another round of punishment—I'm far too preoccupied at the moment to be bothered with him."

"Oh, I see. I suppose I'll have to tell him how lucky he is to have weaseled his way out of your clutches."

"_This time_. And he is mighty fortunate; very fortunate, indeed."

_Albus will want to know, Severus. Doesn't matter if you don't wish to hear it. You have to ask, damn it. Just do it. Get it over with._

Snape grunted and straightened, placing his hands behind his back. "You and Weasley... Are you getting on?"

"Oh. Erm, yeah, sure. Why?"

"No matter. You were just so distracted before the holidays, I was beginning to wonder when you would ever get over it."

Hermione's cheeks turned pink. "Come again?"

Snape lowered his head, and several hairs flew back into his eyes. He didn't want to say anything, but it was too late, and this was his job: to carry out orders he didn't want to do.

"You think I don't know?"

Hermione knew what the brilliant wizard was getting at. There was no use in trying to play it off in front of him anymore, so Hermione dropped her shoulders and kept her intense gaze on his.

"We're fine now, Snape. At least, I think so."

"Good." Snape jerked back and cleared his throat with a peculiar expression. "Potter will need you soon. You can't afford to be at each other's throats when things get bad, and believe me, they _will_ get worse. There are more important things to consider than personal feelings right now."

"Oh, right... Yes, I - I know."

"Very well."

"Ron, um... He asked me out..."

Hermione had no clue why she was sharing this information. Was it to see Snape's reaction? Was it because she still desperately wanted to believe a bond was forming between them—not of a strictly friendly nature—and that it wasn't just in her head? She didn't know but braced herself for something snide.

Snape, however, simply stared at her, unmarked. The strange look had passed, replaced by something inscrutable to her eyes.

"I see." His voice was hard, completely drained of feeling. "Well, good luck to you both. I hope you won't be foolhardy enough to let your emotions get in the way of things. Potter will be counting on you. Don't let your emotions override your intellect."

"Snape—"

"I must return to my grading now."

"Snape, I actually wanted to—"

"You need to go."

Hermione's mouth hung open for a moment, and then formed into a disappointed frown. Snape could see the visible damage he was causing her, and it pained him to witness, but his own sentiments were getting the better of him.

_Damn Weasley. Best that she leaves. Now._

"Snape," Hermione urged, reaching out to touch his shoulder whilst Crookshanks observed his mistress and the elder wizard, "I... I was hoping..."

Snape's eyelids constricted. "Yes?"

"I thought maybe you'd be..."

"What?" He paused, sensing her reservations before turning sour on her. "Ecstatic? Elated?"

"No... Disappointed."

Snape stopped breathing. Their faces were so close to one another that, if he reached down another couple inches, their noses would touch. That longing—that gravitational pull—was taking hold again, and he found himself confessing to her softly, without even considering the words before they came, "I am."

"You _are?_"

"Yes." Snape watched the flicker in her eyes; they seemed to lighten, but he quickly disregarded that as his imagination. "I've never understood what you've seen in that buffoon. You could do better, Hermione. But it is not my place to say such things, nor do I care about your personal relationships. Do as you please."

Hermione couldn't mask her dismay. She showed it readily and made sure the professor saw the pain in her eyes.

"I didn't think you felt this way, Snape." Hastily removing her hand from his shoulder, she spun on her heel and made a mad dash to the door, pausing with her hand on the door knob. "My mistake. Good night."

Snape was desperate to call out to her, to scream at the top of the lungs that everything was a lie, that there was no truth to his displeasure in the young lady he was growing so fond of, but instead he swallowed his real sentiments and let her go. Hermione didn't linger or wait around to receive a reply either. She and Crookshanks made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, the cat watching his mistress as she tried to hold back her tears.

* * *

Severus Apparated to the confines of his office, shuddering at the drastic fluctuation in temperature. His limbs had grown so wooden from the outside chill that the heat in this familiar abode shot straight through his tattered frame with a vengeance; the temperature change was too drastic for his aching body to handle just yet.

Severus flinched at the pangs that shot up his legs, through his chest, and into his throbbing head. He cursed and clasped his forehead, stumbling towards the sofa and making a ruckus as he tried to sit down and think over the latest Death Eater meeting. Plans were moving along as scheduled, which, thankfully, put the Dark Lord in a pleasant mood, but that didn't excuse any of his followers from the mighty wizard's own morbid forms of entertainment that evening. Severus had gotten off easy, for the most part, but the Legilimency he had been forced to perform on several captured Muggle-born wizards and witches was, nevertheless, excruciating.

Severus detested forcing his way into people's minds, aware of the damage he was inflicting in the process, many times too irreparable to be undone once he was through, especially depending on how deep the Dark Lord instructed him to go. At the same time, the act too often forced Severus to relive the most gruesome, intimate details of a person's life, a person whose mind he was invading and ripping apart without consent. Not that he would have wanted to _with_ their approval. He was always sickened afterwards, both physically and mentally, sometimes for days. And the guilt...

_That deranged bastard!_ Severus cursed his master.

The only positive to so much Legiliemency he undertook was it giving him little time to reflect on that blasted Hermione Granger. That intolerable young woman who had so quickly overstepped her boundaries and now consumed his world—for the better—and what little good there was in it...

The weeks following that loving embrace they had shared, however, were strained. Neither one spoke much during her detentions sessions anymore, but Severus made a point of continuing to instruct her in the ways of Occlumency and Legilimency. He also allowed her to help him with a few minor aspects of his research, giving her small tasks or light reading assignments that he hoped would keep her occupied.

By all accounts, he missed Hermione's company, though he never had the heart to admit it to himself. Even with her routine presence now, they didn't converse like they used to, and Severus had become so distracted with lecturing, grading, keeping an eye on Potter, and making almost nightly visits to either Dumbledore or the Dark Lord that it left him little time to reflect on the lovely Gryffindor who had grown to be his only friend; his only solace...

Severus secretly hoped for an unexpected visit from her nightly. When he returned from bouts of torment or the act of practicing torture on others, Severus wished for Hermione, for her to come bustling through his office door, even if just to pick a row, just to be with her. Just to be near.

Crookshank's daily visits persisted, but his mistress seemed disinclined to come herself. Tonight, Severus expected nothing different, though inwardly, his heart clenched at the thought of another night of being alone.

_Lily... I have forsaken you lately... I'm so sorry..._

As Severus leaned his head back on the couch to ease his pounding headache, a small paw swiped at his left arm, followed by an eager meow. "I can't be bothered with you right now," Severus snarled, though he hardly meant it. He had grown quite fond of the wretched feline, and Crookshanks already possessed an acute sense of the professor's emotions that left him stunned at times.

Crookshanks hissed and leaped onto Severus's lap, giving his left arm another strike. This time, his claws dug into the professor's coat, and Severus's eyes shot open. "Watch it!" he hissed back, baring his teeth, but it didn't deter the strong-willed half-Keazle, who seemed adamant to communicate something important.

Crookshanks sniffed at his left arm and meowed again, this time pawing at it more gently. "Oh, very well, you insufferable rogue."

Severus unclasped the buttons that ran along his left wrist with quick precision and without any hint of a struggle. He pulled the fabric back, including the white shirt underneath, to reveal the active Dark Mark, blackened and swirling on his otherwise ashen skin.

Crookshanks's striking yellow eyes darted from the Mark to Severus. He meowed again, more emphatically than before.

"_What?_" Severus exclaimed, growing irritated.

Crookshanks jumped off of Severus's lap and pounced at the door, cracked open just a tad so that the feline could come and go as he pleased. He stopped to give the Slytherin one final mewl before he scurried out of the room and disappeared.

"Stupid cat," Severus grumbled, annoyed.

He collapsed against the back of the sofa and shut his eyes. His headache was strong, but was starting to lessen the more his body relaxed. He wasn't aware that he had started to doze off when a voice on the edge of his consciousness—a woman—fought its way through, coaxing him awake.

_Lily?_

"Snape? _Snape?_"

_Lily, is that you?_

"Snape, wake up!"

Severus's eyes snapped open, and his head gave an unexpected jerk. A gentle face, one with alluring pink lips, a delicate nose, and soft, tumbling waves engulfed his vision. It wasn't Lily. It wasn't the ghost from his past, and for the first time, he was rather relieved that it _wasn't_ that red-haired beauty.

_Hermione..._

"Hermione?"

The young witch nodded and offered him a faint, halfhearted smile. He could feel her petite fingers touching the pulsating veins on his left wrist that dangled limply on his thigh. Crookshanks was also at his side, his paws brushing up against the Potions Master with his furry head cocked sideways.

"Did you have Crooks send for me?" Hermione whispered, looking him over cautiously.

"What?" Severus's eyes narrowed, aggravated by the painfully bright lights radiating from the fireplace. "No, I didn't."

"Oh. Well, he came scampering into the common room like nobody's business. I've never seen him so distraught. He scratched me to get me to follow him, the scoundrel." Crookshanks turned to his mistress and meowed feebly, to which Hermione smiled and affectionately scratched his head. "And I'm glad he did. You look awful... Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

Severus scooted back and tried to sit up, but his eyelids were heavier than he thought, and his head felt as hefty as a bowling ball. He collapsed back against the couch hard and grunted at the impact his head made with the couch.

"Snape! Easy, for goodness' sake. Is this... Is this from another round of Legilimency?" Severus was too spent to lie. He affirmed her question with a sluggish nod of his head. "That potion... Do you need it again?"

"That would...help, yes... Thank you..."

Severus closed his eyes again but could hear Hermione mutter "_Accio_" and shuffle about nearby. He could smell that delicious vanilla scent of hers. Taking it in lessened his headache a bit as a phial was pressed to his lips.

"Here, take this. I don't want you to start shaking." Severus did as she asked without a fight. A short pause later, he heard her ask, "So, what were you doing, performing Legilimency anyhow? Not interrogating one of your first years, I hope."

"No," Severus grumbled, though it almost sounded like a rough chuckle.

"Then what, Snape?" Hermione pressed, her voice very serious. "What's going on? Oh..."

Severus's eyelashes fluttered open and he attempted to look at her, only to find her gaze elsewhere; on his left arm, to be more precise. She was staring down at it with a contorted brow, her caramel irises fixated on the Mark. She appeared fascinated, but at the same time, she was frowning.

Severus instantly tried to pull away, but Hermione stopped him with both hands. "Wait, Snape, please. I'd like to see..."

"Some morbid curiosity?" Severus tried to sound disgruntled, but by the reproachful look Hermione gave him, he knew she saw right through his attempt.

"No, because you promised before that I could see it, remember?"

"Mmm," he moaned, trying to keep his eyes focused.

Hermione returned her attention to the Mark, and eventually Severus felt the gentle movement of soft fingers touching his arm. They grazed over some of his protruding veins, tracing the outline of the Dark Mark—the evil skull and snake that protruded from its mouth—slowly, deliberately, with care. The brush of her skin on his was delicate and soothing.

Before he comprehended what was happening, Severus had shut his eyes again, secretly relishing her sensitive caress. No one ever touched his Dark Mark in such a way. No one ever touched it at all... _Except her_.

"It looks so painful," she murmured after a period, moving his arm onto her lap and taking the spot that Crookshanks had previously occupied.

Severus felt the witch's warm thigh touching his own, but his eyes remained closed, appeased by Hermione's contact. "It doesn't," he purred, and Hermione caught the wonderful sight of his long eyelashes fluttering with each careful stroke of her fingers against the Mark.

"It_ must_ bother you though?" she urged, watching his visage soften before her eyes. He looked so de-stressed now that it almost made him unrecognizable.

"It does..."

"Am I hurting you?"

"No... Not at all."

"Good."

Hermione smiled, exhibiting her usual warmness, and continued to stroke Severus's skin, familiarizing herself with the various ridges that were the professor's own. Her heart jolted when she heard Severus moan very softly in pleasure, with unmistakable yearning.

"Please... Don't stop..."

Hermione's breath hitched, but her smile broadened at such unexpected encouragement. "I won't, Snape."

"_...Severus_."

Hermione lurched slightly. "What?"

"Severus, Hermione... Call me Severus..."

"Are - Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You aren't testing me, are you? We haven't spoken much lately, so you'd better not be looking to get me more on your bad side than I already am."

Detecting the mixture of hesitation, teasing, and sarcasm in Hermione's tone, Severus snorted quietly. "No, I'm not."

"Very well... _Severus..._"

The word sounded so strange and foreign on her tongue, but Hermione found herself enamored with it. It was brass-sounding, yet refined, and her cheeks glowed in response, her eyes staring at the lounging, mysterious figure on the couch beside her.

"I apologize," he mumbled after a pause.

"For being a stubborn sod?"

"I suppose."

"I don't know what's happened between us, Sna—_Severus_—but I don't like it."

"Nor do I."

"Well, you're pretty good at pretending it hasn't bothered you then," she huffed, feeling a little foolish.

More small laughter. "I have to be."

"Now, why is that? And no riddles, please."

"Not now."

"You're just trying to weasel your way out of this, aren't you?"

"Of course."

"Well, seeing as you're kind of unwell at the moment, I'll cut you a break. But when you're feeling better, Sna—_Severus_—I want some answers."

"Insufferable know-it-all..."

"And your insults don't bother me anymore."

"How unfortunate."

"Don't be a bastard."

Severus chuckled sleepily. "I'm still your professor. Show some respect, Granger."

"Oh? I'd like to think we're equals now."

"Fat chance," he snarled without any of his usual bite.

Hermione smirked and stifled a laugh. "Then perhaps I should stop?"

"_No_."

"Oh, so you like to have your cake and eat it, too?"

A faint curl of a smile formed at the edges of Severus's mouth, and a strange, wonderful heat surged in the center of Hermione's chest in response. "Always," he murmured endearingly to her ears.

_Adorable man._

"You really _are_ a bastard, you know that?"

Severus's face slowly relaxed, and ignored her light baiting for a time. Then he whispered, his eyes still closed, "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Would you... Would you stay a while?"

Hermione surveyed Severus's sunken eyelids, his deep-set mouth on the verge of falling open, and his broad chest that expanded and collapsed evenly. Her hands instinctively tightened around the man's arm, and she rubbed it up and down, eying him attentively.

"Of course. Go to sleep... _Severus_. Crooks and I will be here."

"Crooks?"

"He's already fast asleep. He doesn't waste any time. He seems to like your humble abode better than mine."

"Oh..." He paused, and Hermione almost thought he had fallen asleep when his deep voice rumbled, "I'm sorry...to have bothered you..."

"Oh, rubbish. You're not bothering me, Severus. You're my friend... And I'm here for you."

"Thank you."

"Now shut it. Go to sleep."

Another faint chortle somewhere at the back of his throat, and Severus's body went limp, his mind drifting into a state of unconsciousness at last. Hermione kept stroking his arm and eventually fell back comfortably against the couch, situated at the slumbering wizard's side, her curled up form touching his as she watched him sleep.

"_Severus..._" Hermione whispered aloud several times, taking undisclosed pleasure in saying his name.

In the past, it felt too coarse of a name to her, but seemed to suit the snarky, disliked professor perfectly. Saying it now gave it an entirely new connotation. It was beautiful, something novel, compelling, and yet, unexplainable. She didn't detest it as so many others did. Rather, _she revered it_.

"_Severus..._"

* * *

**A/N #2:** **As a side note (and don't get excited yet!), I'm trying to figure out how to handle the smut content in this story. I can present you with very mild, censored versions, but that, in my opinion, kind of defeats the purpose. And it's not nearly as sexy, is it? **

**While I hate to have to post parts of my story elsewhere, I'm not interested in having the Prequel taken down altogether because of the smut. It's a shame and unfortunate, but it's the rules around here now. I'm considering posting that content elsewhere and linking to wherever it occurs. I promise not to make it confusing for you if I do so. I hope that won't deter you from reading either. If I _do_ post the smut on another site, it will be here: crmediagaldotlivejournalcom (It might be worth bookmarking in the future so that you can easily go back and forth between FFN and LiveJournal).**

**This is just something I'm weighing the pros and cons on at the moment, so I wanted to give you plenty of notice.  
**


	21. A Past Undeserving

**A/N: ****I was commanded by my beta reader to post a warning with this chapter. The mid-section has a bit of unpleasantness, or as my beta affectionately penned it, "All the wrong feels!" But I think the later half should more than make up for it. So, in the words of our dear Potions Master, _"Prepare yourself."_  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 21: A Past Undeserving**

Hermione awoke to an unaccustomed sound: snoring. She slowly opened her eyes, adjusting to the bright beams of light coming from the fireplace that still crackled via a long-standing fire incantation. She squinted and let her eyes adjust further.

The striking profile of Severus Snape soon came into view, only he wasn't at all aware of her blatant scrutiny. He was fast asleep, his body slouched against the couch—_against her_—and Hermione suddenly became aware that their bodies were touching. She had literally curled herself into a ball beside him, laying her head against his, and had lost all sense of cognizance.

"Severus?" she whispered, but he merely mumbled something inaudible and fell back into a gentle bout of snoring.

Hermione smiled. She never expected to witness the wizard so relaxed and uninhibited, and a slight tug beneath her palm brought awareness of the placement of her hands; they were still laced around Severus's arm. Her left fingers were lying listlessly atop that disturbing image of the Dark Mark that didn't at all match the tranquil, snoozing man at her side.

Hermione inched herself upward, careful so as not to disturb Severus, and heard him inhale sharply. Hermione froze, praying that she hadn't just woke him up. She could tell just by looking at him how bad of an insomniac the man had to be and how desperately this sleep was needed.

To Hermione's relief, his head fell sideways, turning away from her, and he proceeded to snore again, softly and without issue. Hermione quietly got to her feet and stretched, arching her back in discomfort. How the older wizard could sleep for any length of time on that god-awful couch was beyond her. It was terribly stiff and worn down.

Hermione had no idea what time it was or how long she had been in the professor's office, but she allowed her eyes to wander and take in her surroundings. The last time she had chanced a glimpse around Severus's work space was when she had mistakenly entered without permission and found the small photograph of his mother hanging on the wall. It was still there—staring back at her impassively—but Hermione found herself drawn again to the unhappy, scowling woman in the plain frame.

_What was she like? What was her name? Was she still alive?_

Hermione recalled Severus referring to his mother in the past tense not too long ago, so she had to assume that she wasn't alive. It brought Hermione's focus back to the elusive figure reclining nearby, with a purring, orange feline curled up against him, dead to the world, and to her...

What was Severus Snape's upbringing like? Hermione had gathered it wasn't pleasant from the little hints that Severus dropped in conversation, but just how bad had it been for him as a child, and _why?_ Did something traumatic happen in his youth to make him so mistrusting and resentful, shocked and horrified by any little bout of kindness or compassion he received?

_It couldn't possibly_ all _have to do with Lily... Could it?_

"Lily," Hermione hissed aloud, unaware of doing so, and with unmistakable displeasure, "why were you so unforgiving?"

Hermione knew about the memory Harry had witnessed but would have preferred to view it for herself, especially in light of getting to know Severus better. Harry's description cast the wizard in a typically nasty light, particularly over his calling Harry's mother a 'Mudblood,' but Hermione concluded that there had to be more than just that to the story. It_ had_ to be more complicated than what Harry saw...

_And it was one mistake. One. We all slip up. We all say things we don't mean and regret. What made her so high and mighty?_

Hermione's eyelashes fluttered, bringing her out of her bitter contemplations. She spotted Crookshanks moving, his furry head snuggling itself on top of Severus's right hand. Hermione shook her head with a smile, and then tore her gaze away towards something else that caught her attention.

In the corner of the room, situated behind Severus's desk, was a regal-looking phonograph. Hermione hadn't noticed it before, but it was quite breathtaking and appeared to be pretty old; well before Severus's time, for sure. She tip toed to it and inspected the antique instrument, finding a tiny, square engraving in the center of the carved, oak wood: "Victor V." Its metal horn was enormous and elaborate, with intricate detailing one could only detect up close. A disc was already in place and ready to play. Hermione peered down to read the contents and her lips stretched across her face in a smile as she read the inscription: _Billie Holiday._

Hermione had never heard Severus play music in his office before; it must have been something he did only in private, which heightened her intrigue about him even more. Her gaze darted back to the couch for a moment to survey the slumbering, dark wizard before she made a decision. She had no idea how to work the record player but found the task easy enough.

About half a minute later, the phonograph started to play, and the muffled sound of a piano infiltrated the quiet room, filling it with an otherworldly sound unconventional to Hermione's ears. This was music from another era—from another time and place—but she gravitated towards it, nevertheless.

Billie's captivating voice, both passionate and intimate, began to sing, and the first lyrics brought back the conversation Hermione had had with Severus about the feline from his childhood and one of the songs he had mentioned to her.

"_...The very thought of you, and I forget to do..._"

Hermione gathered on her own that it had to be a particular favorite of his, and hearing it now, playing in the confines of this private setting, with the Potions Master sleeping peacefully just a few feet away, Hermione was filled with an indescribable sense of belonging. She listened intently to the lyrics.

"_...The mere idea of you. The longing here for you. You'll never know how slow the moments go 'till I'm near to you..._"

It was breathtaking. How she had never heard of the woman, her voice, or this song before was confounding. But more importantly, it was so appropriately _Severus_. Even without knowing all there was to know about him, Hermione was pulled right into the song—drawn to the lyrics, so full of longing and affection—as if they were the very echoes of the Slytherin wizard himself.

"_...I see your face in every flower. Your eyes in stars above. It's just the thought of you. The very thought of you, my love..._"

Hermione lapsed out of her meditation when she heard a sluggish, low moan. Hermione quickly darted back over to the couch and carefully took a seat next to the professor, who was now beginning to stir. The music slowly drew him awake, and a sense of genuine confusion overcame his senses before, as if by some magic of its own, the lyrics brought an immediate calmness to every line on his face, showcasing that rare serenity that Hermione treasured.

His eyelashes fluttered, listening to the familiar vocals, and Hermione unconsciously took his left arm back into her lap and gently squeezed his hand. "This is beautiful," she whispered, waiting for Severus to draw out of his slumber.

"Mmm... Yes, it is," he purred, closing his eyes to listen, or perhaps fall back asleep.

"I've never heard it before."

Severus didn't answer right away, but then the corners of his mouth curled ever so slightly. "You were snooping again, Hermione..."

She smiled back. "Not really. I woke up and spotted your record player. I had no idea you were so old fashioned."

_How beautiful..._

Severus chuckled quietly and kept his eyes closed. "It was my mother's. She had affection for all things 'old,' as you've so kindly put it, as do I."

"Well, I like it."

"Oh? Isn't screaming and dumb-downed lyrics more to the liking of kids your age nowadays?"

"Kids my age? Nowadays? Merlin, you make yourself sound ancient."

"Well, I probably was born in the wrong century..."

"_That_ I can agree with. Stubborn, old sod."

Hermione's heart fluttered at hearing his faint laughter. He had offered her a sincere glimpse of his humor only a handful of times—many only that evening, in fact—and each time it was a sound and image she didn't want to forget.

Hermione peered down at his hand cupped in hers. It was contentedly intertwined with her own, and that gave her pause as she thought over something she hadn't considered until now: the age factor. She wasn't quite sure if she was ready to ask him, but she decided to coax the information out of him as long as he was in a rather contented mood.

"When's your birthday?"

Severus's eyes shot open, and he gave her a dark stare that almost made her burst into laughter. "If you're thinking of serenading me with 'Happy Birthday,' I'll hex you with my eyes closed."

He had tried to sound threatening, but his voice sounded more tired than abrasive. Hermione simply tittered and shook her head.

"You're hopeless. And I wasn't thinking of doing so, but now that you've planted the idea in my head..."

"Don't even think about it," he hissed.

Even if he was teasing, Hermione gathered that he was serious, too. "So, when is it?"

Severus sighed and suppressed a yawn behind his hand. "January 9."

"Rats, I missed it," she glowered. "You never even said anything!"

"Why would I? It's nothing special. After you turn seventeen, you'll find its all downhill from there."

"Rubbish. You're way too bitter for barely being awake."

Severus chortled again but didn't say anything else, seemingly too spent to make small talk. Hermione began running her fingers up and down his left arm again, this time ignoring the Dark Mark completely. It no longer fascinated her; the whim of curiosity had lifted. The Dark Mark wasn't _him_, she had concluded hours ago, so what was the point?

"Do you use your record player often? I've never heard you playing it in your office."

"I do. Late at night, normally. It calms me."

"I wouldn't have expected you to be the type who's into jazz and blues."

"You'd be surprised at what 'type' I am," he mumbled.

Hermione leaned forward, her face very close to his. "Oh? So what type are you exactly?"

"You don't want to know."

Hermione frowned. "Actually, I really would, Severus."

Severus gradually opened his eyes again; they were bloodshot and unnaturally hazy. Hermione drew back and tightened her grip on his arm.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be keeping you awake. Sometimes I'm far too curious for my own good."

"It's all right."

"Well, Crooks doesn't show any indication of moving, but I should let you sleep."

"You're leaving?"

Hermione noted the small hint of alarm in his voice, evident also by the wave of panic that swept across his eyes. It was difficult to refrain from smiling.

"I'll only keep you awake, Severus, and I really should get back to my dormitory anyhow. Wouldn't want you to deduct another fifty points on _my_ behalf, would I?"

Severus's face lightened, but his eyes remained drowsy. "I _could_, you know..."

"Watch it, Professor."

Hermione had all but forgotten about Billie Holiday, but then the lyrics came back to her. She rose to turn the music off, but Severus grabbed hold of her wrist.

"No. Leave it on."

"Won't it keep you awake?"

"No. It helps..."

Hermione wasn't sure what to make of that, and the request sounded so feeble and unlike him, but she respected his wish. She leaned down and touched Severus on the cheek.

"You should go to your quarters to sleep, Severus. This sofa can't be good for you. Do you want some help?"

Severus's mouth stiffened, but the rest of his body remained slouched. "No, I'm fine here. I'm not _that_ old yet, Hermione."

Hermione giggled. "Oh, be quiet. I _know_ you aren't. At least, lie down then. You might be more comfortable that way."

Severus listlessly did as Hermione instructed, much to her own secret delight. Crookshanks meowed, annoyed by the disturbance of his comfortable spot. The cat quickly situated himself at Severus's feet, eying them both unreservedly.

Hermione grabbed the same emerald afghan she had spotted last time and brought it over Severus's form, looking him over thoughtfully. "You cold? Do you want me to transfigure you another blanket?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine."

"All right."

"Thank you," he repeated, his words slurring and drifting away.

Hermione smiled in response and remained longer than she intended. She would have gladly stayed the rest of the night had he suggested it, but slowly came to terms with how unwise that probably was.

Hermione peered down at the man and couldn't help touching him one last time, especially since he was rather indisposed for a change and indulging her anyhow. Several pieces of hair had fallen against his hooked nose, and Hermione reached down to delicately brush them behind his ear. But when Hermione's hand made contact with those black strands she had been so intrigued about touching, an unexpected spark shot through her fingers.

The texture was a complete surprise. It was a bit coarse, yes, but softer than she expected, and not at all greasy, only limp. Hermione's hand lingered for a long moment, her fingers continuing to brush the hair behind Severus's ear. When he proceeded to stir, it startled Hermione back to her senses.

"Goodnight, Severus."

She was shocked when he responded back to her. "Goodnight...Hermione..."

Hermione hastily moved her hand away. Had he been awake that whole time? Had he felt her toying with his hair? She inhaled deeply and tried to forget about it. After all, if it had upset him, he would have said so.

Giving Severus one last look over, Hermione finally exited the wizard's office, the gentle voice of Billie Holiday serenading her as she left.

* * *

Severus Snape was confounded. And he was _never_ confused, _rarely_ off his guard, and_ hardly ever_ unsure of himself. His mind was being distracted more and more by that fiercely intelligent Gryffindor—that young lady with the gloriously wild curls, stunning eyes, and sensual, pink lips.

_What the hell's happening to me?_

Severus snarled as he paced his private quarters. It had been nearly a week since Crookshanks summoned Hermione to his office, and her touch...

_Her touch..._

Those soft fingers had stroked his arm; he thought they had brushed his hair at one point, too, but perhaps that was all in his head. She certainly hadn't recoiled or found touching him repulsive, which was a shock in itself. Even more, she hadn't rejected him outright upon seeing his Dark Mark. So many others would have, but _she_ hadn't.

Did she have any idea of the horrible things he had done? Or had yet to do? Did Hermione Granger know the significance of what that Mark meant for _him?_

Their whole exchange should have bothered him more, but Hermione was growing far too intoxicating, and Severus, to his undoing, found himself clinging to whatever amount of kindness she bestowed. He would willingly take it all. He would hold onto it for dear life. He yearned for that contact again. _And again_.

But, soon enough, Hermione Granger would undoubtedly never touch Severus again. That morbid reality gave him pause.

_Just tell her! Tell her everything you can. Get it over with, Severus, and the rejection will be far less severe than if you let this go on..._

_Once she finds out what you know—what will be done to her—she'll detest you anyhow and never want anything to do with you ever again. When she learns of everything you plan to do, she'll despise you entirely._

_Hermione's trustworthy enough. She hasn't told Potter about the Horcruxes. She hasn't betrayed you. Not yet._

_So don't betray her, no matter how you feel. Give her the information she wants. Then leave her alone._

* * *

"'Mione?"

"Yeah?"

"Um, have you made a decision yet?"

Hermione glanced up from the dated history book in her hand—_Dark Arts After the Fall of the Dark Lord_—and was met with big, eager blue irises. "Sorry?"

Ron's tame, half smile fell. "A decision? About _us?_"

"Oh!"

Hermione closed her book and leaned against the stack behind her. Luckily, the library wasn't too crowded this afternoon, giving Ron more confidence to approach her than he would have if more lecherous eyes were lurking about.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I - I guess I've been really busy this week. I haven't had time to think it over too much."

_And I've been distracted by someone else. Someone far less appropriate to be distracted by. Merlin, if anyone knew... Shut up! Stop thinking about it! Stop!_

"Oh." Ron looked away, fairly put out, which brought Hermione additional guilt.

"I _am_ sorry, Ron."

"Then what's the problem? Something's changed, 'Mione. What is it?"

"What? Nothing's changed."

Ron's freckled cheeks suddenly lit up like a flame. "Is there someone else?"

"_What?_"

"Don't pull my leg, 'Mione." The twinge of agony in his voice made Hermione nauseous. "Are you interested in someone else?"

"I... No!"

Ron's eyebrows came together. "Are you lying to me?"

"Why would you think that?"

_And you can't possibly know..._

"Because you're blushing, 'Mione. It kind of makes you look guilty."

Hermione stammered hopelessly, then stomped her foot. "Well, I'm not!"

She hated how utterly stupid and unconvincing she sounded, but it seemed to be enough to deter Ron, who took a step backward with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "All right... Well, erm, I'll just go."

Her sulking friend abruptly turned around to leave, and Hermione panicked. _What are you doing? This is foolish! Stop him! Stop being an idiot!_

"Ron!" she called after him, louder than she had meant to.

"What?" he grumbled back, only half-turning to address her.

Hermione rushed over to him. She hesitated for the briefest moment, and then hastily pecked him on the cheek. Ron startled and drew back in shock.

"I'm sorry. I've been acting like such an idiot. My answer is - is yes."

"_Really?_"

Hermione swallowed the reservations she still bore in the back of her mind and in her heart and, instead, nodded emphatically. "Yes."

Ron's goofy grin returned, only this time he was beaming from ear to ear. "Wicked!"

Hermione forced a smile back, and prayed inwardly that she hadn't just made a terribly grave mistake, but there was hardly any time to reflect on the decision she had made. Ron leaned in and shell-shocked her with a firm, rather slobbery kiss on the lips that the Gryffindor witch was completely unprepared for.

At first, she squirmed, but then quickly submitted, her curiosity getting the best of her. Ron's lips were large, salty, and rougher than she expected. It wasn't an unpleasant experience; but then, it wasn't exactly how Hermione had hoped it would be. She prayed that her slight disappointment wouldn't show once Ron pulled away.

"Erm," Hermione laughed nervously, and Ron chuckled back.

"That was...nice."

"Um, yeah, it was."

_Oh, Hermione, you god-awful liar. You're going to hell for this._

"Well, um, if you're still busy..."

"Oh! Well, I - I do kind of want—_have_—to finish this."

"Let me guess: extra credit?"

Hermione smiled wryly, but then found herself lying again. "Kind of."

In truth, she had been interested in finding out more about something Severus had mentioned to her a while ago, regarding the many banned textbooks on the Dark Arts the Ministry had obliterated or burned. So far, however, she had found surprisingly little information in her research. She much preferred the tedious fact-finding over her good friend for the time being—now _more_ than a friend—and the guilt of that reality put her stomach in knots.

Ron, however, seemed to have other plans in mind for Hermione's afternoon. "Well, can't you take a break?"

"I - I suppose..."

Ron laughed loudly, displaying his pearly whites. "Wouldn't you rather hang out together? Oh, yeah, right. I guess I have to get used to this now... You and your love of books."

Hermione gazed at him apologetically. "I'm sorry."

Ron shrugged. "Nah, it's fine. Do your thing. I'll see you later."

There was an awkward moment of silence that passed between them, and then Ron leaned in for another kiss. Hermione accepted it without a struggle, but found it not much better than the first.

_Practice, Hermione. That's all it is. You're new to this. It's probably supposed to feel this way... Isn't it?_

Ron gave her another flash of his trademark simper, and then meandered out of the library, looking quite pleased with how things had gone. He wasn't aware of his new girlfriend's timid, questioning stare as he left.

* * *

"Well, it's about bloody time!"

"Please, Harry—"

"Congrats!" Ginny giggled, plopping herself down on the sofa beside Hermione in the common room as Harry sat down in front of the hearth, lacing his arms over his drawn up knees.

"I - I suppose Ron told you then?"

Harry gave her a funny look. "Well, yeah, of course he did! I'm surprised _you_ didn't come and tell us first." He suddenly frowned. "Why didn't you?"

Hermione fidgeted but said nothing, making her friends gravely suspicious. Ginny inclined her head.

"Something wrong, Hermione?"

"No, not exactly..."

"Oh, dear." Ginny's eyes expanded and her eyebrows came together with concern. "Was my brother really bad at it?"

"What?" It took a moment to dawn on Hermione what Ginny was asking her, but when the realization hit, Hermione nervously laughed it off. "Oh, no! No, no, it was fine!"

"Fine?" Harry continued to gaze at his friend, slightly perplexed.

"Well, yeah."

"You don't sound too, um, enthusiastic."

"I_ am_, Harry!"

"Yeah, but—"

"Just because I'm not shouting it from the rooftops means that I'm not happy?"

"Well, Hermione, you _have_ been going on about Ron for a while now. I just thought..."

"What?"

"I thought you might be more excited than this."

"He's right, you know." Hermione turned to Ginny, who was giving her a rather sincere, almost piteous regard. "Have you changed your mind?"

"I— What? No! Why would you guys think that?"

"Well, no offense, 'Mione, but Ron's been acting a lot more enthusiastic about this getting together business than you."

"_That's Ron_, Harry. That isn't me."

"Oh. Right..."

Hermione paused, feeling the heat trickle onto her face in accordance with the skeptical reactions she was receiving from her close friends. "_What?_" she exclaimed, becoming increasingly flustered. "Aren't you guys happy for me?"

"Of course we are, Hermione. It's just..."

"What, Ginny?"

She shot the redhead a deadly glare, but the youngest Weasley's somber reply hit Hermione square in the chest. "Just don't hurt my brother, all right? If you've changed your mind, or if you're not that into him after all, then please tell him, sooner rather than later. Don't lead him on."

"I - I won't, Ginny," she stammered quietly. "I promise."

Ginny bowed her head, giving a sweet sidelong look to Harry before taking her leave. Once she was out of sight, Harry took her spot on the couch.

"So, what're you up to?"

Hermione perked up, grateful to be off the topic of her new boyfriend. It had only been a few days, but she was already having her fill of talking about it.

"Actually, I was thinking..."

"Yeah?"

"The Half-Blood Prince..."

Harry's green eyes livened. "Did you find something out?"

"Erm, not exactly. I tried to look up Eileen Prince—the name in the book—but couldn't find much of anything other than the fact that she was a former student here and was in Slytherin House."

Harry gave a prideful snort. "Well, considering some of the questionable spells that are in my book, I'm not surprised."

"Harry..."

"What? It's the truth!"

Hermione bit on her lip to keep from arguing. "My detentions with Snape are going really well, so I was thinking of, um, asking him about it. What do you think?"

Harry jerked his head back as if he had been cursed. "_What?_ 'Mione, no! If Snape knows about that book, I'll receive detention with the slimy git for the rest of the school year!"

"Oh, come off it, Harry. I don't plan on telling him much about it anyhow. I was just thinking that perhaps he might have known Eileen Prince, perhaps taught her or went to school with her. It might help us make some headway." She lowered her eyes. "Unless you and Ron have any better ideas, seeing as you've both been working _so_ hard on figuring this all out."

Harry's expression fluctuated from horror to guilt. He adjusted his glasses and gave Hermione a sheepish smile.

"Oh. Well, yeah, I suppose that could work. How exactly are you going to approach him though, 'Mione? The man can smell an ulterior motive a mile away, even without that large honker of his."

Hermione glared at Harry; it took every ounce of her being not to whip out her wand and send the Chosen One cascading into the wall, but she refrained.

"I'm working on that," she sniped.

Without another word, Hermione returned her attention to her reading material, leaving Harry to ponder over what he might have said to set the feisty Gryffindor off.

* * *

"Severus?"

"What?"

It had been nearly a week since Hermione's detentions had resumed, although she was also paying him more evening visits than ever and was exceedingly grateful that Severus didn't seem to mind or tell her to sod off. Harry and Ron believed she was going to the library every night, and she willingly went along with that excuse.

Hermione crossed the room and leaned against Severus's desk, staring down at the man who was hunched over his work and scribbling furiously all over a second year's essay.

"What was your upbringing like?"

Severus punctured a hole straight through the student's parchment, and his quill nearly shot out of his hand. He peered up at Hermione with widened, clearly suspicious eyes.

"Why do you ask?"

Hermione shrugged, no longer fazed by Severus's bouts of skepticism. "Just curious. That picture of your mother hanging in your office..."

"What about it?"

"Well, I was just wondering what she was like?"

Hermione tried to read Severus's hard face but to no avail. He simply scowled at her without emotion.

"There's not much to tell."

Hermione tapered her eyebrows. "Oh, c'mon, there must be _something?_"

She crossed her arms and waited, showing every indication of not giving in. Severus stared at her for nearly a minute before he finally sighed and threw down his quill, leaning back in his chair so as to meet her gaze more directly. He placed his hands in his lap and grunted.

Hermione was completely sidelined by what ensued. Perhaps Severus had mentally prepared himself for this. Then again, maybe he was finally entrusting himself to her, a major feat well worth noting...

"My mother was not an outgoing person. She was a loner, aloof, and incapable of maintaining long-term relationships with anyone she came into contact with. She was soft spoken and skittish, and when it came to me, I was her only source of company—and vice versa—for a very long time.

"She was not an affectionate mother, but she had her own manner of illustrating to me that she cared. I spent most of my childhood trying to make her happy. She was consumed by her black depression and anxieties. Sometimes it felt as if I didn't even exist to her when she was experiencing one of her manias, or that she literally couldn't see me when I was there. But I knew her regard for me was strong, even when she couldn't show it.

"My father made both of our lives miserable. I had the good fortune, however, of eventually escaping to Hogwarts, whilst my mother was left to fend for herself against him in their own private hell."

"Your father," Hermione whispered, leaning forward and hanging onto every word, "was he..."

Severus stared at her without blinking, his black eyes hardening. The stiff expression he wore pained her to see. This time, however, Hermione understood none of it was to shut her out or push her away, but rather to protect himself. Even without knowing the intimate details, Hermione could sense the harsh reality of Severus's situation before it was properly unveiled to her.

"Yes, my father was abusive, both verbally and physically. He was an alcoholic, ever since he was a teenager, and it only grew worse, particularly after I was born." Severus let out a contemptuous snicker. "I was his emotional punching bag and his greatest disappointment in life. I was unsightly, physically frail, socially awkward, and, worst of all, a wizard just like my mother...

"My father loathed that she was a witch from the time they first became romantically linked. I use the term 'romantic' very loosely. I don't believe they were ever truly in love at all. My mother probably thought she couldn't do any better, seeing as her self-esteem was so poor from the very beginning, and my father was simply shopping around for a wife to cook him his meals, pleasure him in bed, and tell him regularly how brightly the sun shone out of his arse.

"What my mother could have possibly seen in my father is beyond my rational capabilities. I will never be able to make sense of her choices, nor her decision to stay. I will only say that she was vulnerable and brought up to submit to and appease a man's every whim. My father was no exception, and she tolerated his abuse, in all likelihood believing she deserved it. I don't think I ever once heard her complain, but I witnessed her cries, her tears, her all-consuming despair... All the time...

"I, at least, served as a buffer when the abuse became too violent. My father had two individuals to take out his rage upon, which only meant that my mother survived. If it had been just her—if I had never been born—he would have surely killed her. I'm certain of it. There's only so much a battered person can withstand, and my father abused us both to the max."

Hermione tried to swallow, but her throat was suddenly parched. She wasn't aware of the tears now swimming in her eyes. Hearing what Severus was revealing was horrifying, but the lack of emotion in his conveyance of his miserable upbringing was what really tore at Hermione's gut. She could see how hard he was trying to hold back and not display any of the pain from what he had endured.

Hermione fought with every ounce of her being not to throw her arms around him and wrap the man up in a hug. He wouldn't appreciate it right now, one of the many subtle signs she was learning to understand about him. Hermione also knew that what he was telling her didn't even scratch the surface.

"Did he... Did he always abuse you? From the time you were a baby?"

Hermione wasn't sure if she really wanted to know the answer, but it was decipherable in Severus's eyes when he met hers, without even saying a word. Hermione felt crushed, as if she had received a personal blow to the chest.

"Yes, always. I can't remember much from my earliest years, but he never, ever liked me. I was the accumulation of everything he hated. I was his crowning failure and every moment that I lived at home in his presence, _he never let me forget it_...

"When I first showed signs of being able to perform magic, my mother tried desperately to hide it from him. She managed to keep it from him for quite a long time, but once he found out, I remember the slander and the beatings increasing tenfold, and they had already been quite bad up to that point."

Severus's irises grew murky, drifting off towards a far corner of the classroom without focusing. "Our abuse was his nightly ritual. He'd come home from work, my mother would fetch to and fro for him, have his meal ready and waiting for him, ask about his day, shower him with praise... _But none of it was ever good enough._

"I would try to hide in my bedroom or make myself scarce; I ran away from home many times, just to escape his bouts of torment, but then he'd simply take my absence out on my mother. I was far too guilt-ridden to let her stand alone and take such maltreatment on my behalf, so I withstood it whenever I could and did my best not to give my father the satisfaction of garnering a reaction from me. I became very good at masking how badly his beatings hurt. It seemed to only enrage him more, but I still wouldn't allow it of myself, or give him the sickening pleasure he sought.

"I fought back, too, once I was old enough. There were several bloody altercations that happened between us—physical fights, me unleashing my magic upon him without really understanding how I'd done it—and about a year or two before starting at Hogwarts, I taught myself how to defend against him with dark curses and the like. I spent so much time learning about the Dark Arts, for I really had nothing else to bide my time, that I discovered how to make up several curses on my own.

"I firmly believe that, if my father were still alive by the time I left Hogwarts, I would have finished him off, and taken tremendous satisfaction in tormenting him for all the mental and physical persecution he put my mother and me through..."

The dark declaration Severus made sent shivers down Hermione's spine, giving her a glimpse of the young, dangerous Death Eater he had once been. But her conscience simultaneously sympathized with Severus and how justified, in reality, his words came across. She would probably take the same glorification as he after such undeserved maltreatment.

Hermione slowly shook her head, a few stray curls falling out of her loose ponytail and onto her shoulders. She still wasn't aware of the tears that were now streaming down her face.

"Severus..."

He didn't look at her. He continued to gaze hazily off into the distance at nothing, far away from her grasp and lost in a haunted past Hermione secretly berated herself for bringing up. She choked on her breath and quickly reached down to squeeze his shoulder.

"Severus... I - I'm so sorry." When he finally met her gaze, filled with the gentlest empathy, Hermione hated to find that inscrutable, blank stare of his again. It broke her heart. "No one deserves that. _You_ didn't deserve to be treated that way."

Severus didn't answer and simply turned his head away from her once more. He didn't appear at all convinced. Hermione tightened her grip on his shoulder, alarmed by his passivity.

"Severus, you don't actually think you warranted your father's abuse, do you? You can't possibly think that. _You can't_."

"Don't speak of what you don't understand," he admonished her quietly, and with an unexpected edge to his voice. "You had a happy childhood, Hermione; a pleasant upbringing, I'm sure. Unless you've experienced what_ I_ went through, then don't assume anything about it."

Hermione reared back in shock. "Severus, I don't _have_ to have gone through what you endured to know that a child doesn't deserve to be treated the way you were! _You didn't deserve it, Severus._ Your father's belittling is carved into your brain, I can tell, but whatever horrible things he said and did to you, they were wrong, and you shouldn't listen to any of it.

"And don't shake your head like that! I don't have to know the particulars of what he said. He was an abusive drunk, and he bullied and tormented you to make himself feel better. Whatever nasty words he spat, Severus, whatever he did to you, _you didn't deserve it!_"

Severus still wouldn't make eye contact or give her an encouraging reaction. More desperate than ever to reach him, Hermione bent low and took possession of Severus's cheek that was turned away. She rotated his face towards her, forcing him to meet her eyes. He allowed her to do so but gave the same expressionless stare as before, and there was something deeply troubling and forlorn lurking behind the depths of his eyes. They fluttered at receiving her gentle caress, as if her touch were the most wonderful feeling he had ever received, and it gave her courage to press on.

"Severus, listen at me," Hermione whispered emphatically, cupping her hand against the side of his face. "I'm terribly sorry for what you went through. I never should have brought up this topic. You've hinted to me before just how unpleasant your upbringing was. My nagging curiosity is both a blessing and a curse. I'm admittedly desperate to know more about you, but my countless questions and incessant badgering have been extremely trying on you, I know. I - I'm deeply sorry for putting you through this. I genuinely don't mean to make you hurt any more than you already do. And don't deny to me that you aren't emotionally scarred, Severus, because _I know you are_...

"I suspect you haven't been told very often that you didn't deserve what you got. I didn't know your mother. I have a better sense of who she was now, thanks to you, but I still don't know her well enough to judge; however, I would venture to guess that she was probably too fragile to tell you herself that you didn't deserve it. She probably wanted to but just couldn't.

"I can certainly now see where your low opinion of yourself stems from. I really wish she would've told you. I wish _someone_ would have reminded you back then that you deserved better—so much better—_because you did, and you still do_.

"Nothing—nothing in all this world—warrants a child being abused like that. I wish so many things had been different for you. I know you haven't had an easy life, but letting your past continue to torment you this way won't ever allow you to hear me properly, or see what I see in you. Please just know that you deserved better than the cards you were dealt. _You deserved to be loved, Severus._ Every person does. You are worthy of love, Severus. _You are._"

Hermione affectionately stroked Severus's cheek, hardly aware of what she was doing or saying anymore. Her words had simply poured out of her, and touching him in this way felt entirely natural, as it if it were meant to be.

She watched and waited for Severus to react to her words, and for a period of time, all the wizard could do was stare. She could see the wheels turning, however, his dark eyes pleading, almost begging to allow himself to believe that she was right. Yet he was obviously torn, and struggled to grasp what she had so adamantly expressed.

Hermione felt equally tormented watching him trying to come to grips with what he had never allowed himself to believe. But then Severus began to breathe heavily, and, finally, his face altered, contorting into an expression of brutal agony. He looked as if he were experiencing real physical pain.

Inhaling a sharp breath, he brought a quivering hand over top of Hermione's, which rubbed at his cheek, and clasped her fingers. Hermione felt her eyes tearing up all over again. He was so vulnerable, so childlike now, that it sucked the very breath out of her.

"Hermione... I..."

His shaky attempt at expressing himself was such a visible strain in itself that Hermione swiftly resorted to the only thing she could think of. Inching forward, and without giving what she was about to do a second thought, Hermione kissed the top of Severus's forehead. Severus shuddered in response, withering beneath this small dose of compassion, but Hermione made sure that her tender kiss was long and heartfelt, and that he understood what it meant.

When she moved her lips away, she crouched lower to meet his eyes, listening intently to his uneven breaths and knowing how severely he was trying not to lose his composure in front of her. The act only heightened her heartache.

"Severus," she urged, speaking as soothingly as she could, "don't be afraid to let go. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to criticize you or ridicule you or harm you in any way. It's all right. You're doing nothing wrong. I'm here, Severus, and _I won't hurt you_, I promise."

Severus drew in another sharp breath, and then a pair of strong hands wrapped themselves around Hermione's arms. With a gentle, but firm, tug, Severus eased Hermione onto his lap. She brought an arm comfortably around his neck and the other around his waist, grateful when Severus allowed her to ease him into a warm hug, one that only she could give.

Severus closed his eyes and buried his face in the nape of her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent, which quickly proved to be a small dose of comfort in itself. Hermione listened in an attempt to sense the man's needs without pushing or saying anything else. She simply held him close, letting him cling to her for whatever solace he needed. He didn't cry, but his breathing was labored and despairing as he tried to ward off the emotions that had been long buried within.

For a while, they sat there in the professor's chair, Hermione seated on Severus's lap, holding tightly to him in another strong moment of contact he never thought he would ever experience. Hermione didn't believe the man capable of doing so at one time, but not anymore. She had broken down another wall, and a window into Severus's soul had opened itself up to her, allowing her to climb through and retrieve yet another defining piece of the complicated, private wizard that no one knew.

Once Severus's heavy breathing subsided, Hermione reluctantly pulled away to look him over and finally witnessed a natural reaction. He was melancholy, mournful, his eyes terribly sad. Hermione quickly brushed a few hairs away from his face so that she could properly cup it in her hands.

She was growing increasingly fond of how Severus responded to her touch. His dark eyelashes routinely fluttered, his body momentarily paralyzed by her contact. But it seemed to be only by _her_ that Severus was left so incapacitated, if just for a short moment.

"Thank you," he managed with difficulty.

Hermione offered him a genuine smile once he reopened his eyes. "You're welcome," she returned softly.

"I..."

"You don't have to say anything, Severus. Opening up to me, and allowing yourself to be held just now, are positive steps in the right direction."

"I... Yes..."

"Do you feel a little better? I hope?"

"Yes." He paused to draw breath. "I - _appreciate_ - what you're trying to do, Hermione. I..."

Hermione's thumbs grazed the lines along his mouth. "It's all right. This was a lot for you, I know, but I'm proud of you, Severus. It - It means a lot to me..."

Severus suddenly became of aware of the young lady—his student—sitting in his lap, warming him in more ways than one, and a flicker of panic flashed across his eyes. _Severus... What the... What the hell are you doing?_

Severus shut down his blistering mind long enough to give her more focused attention. Hermione didn't seem aware of this being in any way wrong, and that, too, confounded him greatly.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"What... What is this?"

Hermione tilted her head. "What is what?"

"_This_."

Awareness crept onto Hermione's visage, and she slowly withdrew her hands from his cheeks, which Severus instantly regretted and longed to feel again. "I... I don't know," she responded timidly.

_And that was the truth._ She really didn't know, and it showed by her furrowed brow and the nervous twitch in her eyes.

"This is... Highly inappropriate."

Hermione hardly knew what to say. "Oh. Do - Do you want me to go?"

"No," Severus answered, a little too hastily. "No, I... I just..."

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"...We are?"

Hermione drew back a little with fresh worry. "Are you not sure?"

"That we're simply friends? No, I'm not sure... Are you?"

Hermione paused before a wave of uncertainty washed over her, and panic, too. She couldn't lie. She was incapable of such insincerity looking at the broken man in front of her; a man she was so strangely and strongly drawn to, no longer in a friendly manner.

_Not in a friendly manner... Merlin, what's happening?_

"No," she professed quietly, "I - I'm not sure either... Not anymore..."

Severus's obsidian orbs flickered. "Hermione, be direct with me."

"Severus, please—"

He pressed his fingers to her lips—without thinking—to stop her from speaking, but found them lingering on her mouth, so warm and supple, the ridges exquisite as he unconsciously traced them with fascination. He heard the young lady's breath hitch, and he almost started to pull away, but then she reacted, too, and not in the manner he anticipated.

Hermione brought her hand back up to stroke him, though not his cheek this time. She, too, gently examined the contours of Severus's own lips, thin and pronounced, heated and lithe. She had a sudden, very prominent urge to taste them. She had wanted to for a long time, actually. And he was too close now _not_ to chance it, _not_ to try...

"Hermione," she heard Severus breathe cautiously, but the man's warning was ignored.

Staring deep into his eyes was all the confirmation Hermione needed. _He wanted her, too._ Without question. Hermione may have been completely inexperienced and new to the sensations washing over her, but there was no mistaking the passion brewing in the wizard's eyes, and it was all for _her_.

Hermione sought the advantage. She brought her lips to his in a flash. And when their lips met, the act was tenderly rendered, with care, with feeling, the warmth of their mouths lighting a fire within each other. Hermione found Severus's lips to be surprisingly soft, gentle, delicious even.

Hermione hesitated slightly as she started to withdraw, but then Severus responded. He brought a hand around her head to press her lips into his in earnest, giving them both much needed encouragement to continue the pursuit.

They kissed for what seemed like forever, neither willing themselves to stop. Their mouths massaged one another's, enraptured by the taste and fluttering sensations it brought. Severus's tongue slipped inside Hermione's mouth, and she let out a small gasp of pleasure as she opened herself up to him further.

Growing slightly bolder, Hermione mimicked his tongue and gave the same back. Severus moaned, low and profound, and the glorious sound shot straight to Hermione's core. She could feel herself warming with passion and desire.

She slipped her hands up to entangle her fingers in Severus's hair, feeling the texture for the second time and finding that she relished it even more than the first. Severus, in turn, could hardly comprehend what was happening. The witch had somehow released him from his confinement, with just a few soft-spoken words and a kiss; he felt too indisposed now to stop the surge rushing over him. He just wanted to taste her, travel her mouth and every sumptuous curve of her body with his lips, tongue, hands, _anything he could..._

Realizing they were severely lacking oxygen, both pulled away simultaneously to catch their breath, taking a fleeting moment to stare into each other's eyes. Severus's breathing was hot and heavy, and the seductive smirk he now wore was enough to drive Hermione mad. She had never experienced anything quite like this. She was burning—literally on fire—and certainly didn't want to stop.

Hermione moved quickly to kiss him again, but Severus's hoarse whisper abruptly halted her efforts. "No."

Hermione drew back, freshly self-conscious. "What's wrong?" When he didn't say anything, only continued to survey her flushed face and swelling lips, Hermione turned scarlet. "Did - Did I do something wrong?"

"No," he purred, an evident struggle emerging as he tried to formulate words, "only we..."

"What?"

"We shouldn't... Hermione, we - we can't do this."

And just like that, the flame inside her blew out. She wanted to protest but found herself bereft of words. The strange sort of pain she detected in Severus's expression told her he didn't really want to stop either, but there was no doubting his resolve. They would go no further, and the newly found lust Hermione had just experienced was snatched away, leaving her cold and despondent.

"Hermione," Severus urged, cupping her chin in his hand. She wasn't looking at him anymore, and he was desperate to reach her in return, just as the kind witch had wanted to get to him so many times before. "I'm your instructor. I'm supposed to look after you and protect you and be a trustworthy mentor... I - I'm betraying that trust by what I'm doing. I should never have done this. I - I'm very sorry."

"But Severus, I kissed you first—"

Severus shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does! Severus, I'm not a child. I'll be eighteen in a matter of months. I'm already of age. What we did wasn't wrong, especially if - if there are mutual feelings involved."

Severus swallowed his wants, suppressing his craving to take Hermione again and ravage her the way he so desperately wanted to into the ground. He took hold of both of her hands as she sat dejectedly in his lap.

"You have been so good to me," he whispered in a tender manner that made Hermione's heart beat faster, "and I appreciate it more than you know, Hermione. But I've taken advantage of your wonderful kindness, and I shouldn't have. I - I _do_ have feelings for you, make no mistake, but this is inappropriate. You're still my student, and I'm your professor."

"Severus, please."

Hermione leaned in and brought her forehead to his, inhaling deeply, and Severus succumbed to this, for he wanted it, too. He loved her penetrating warmth against his skin; it was more comforting than he had ever believed it could be. He responded by nuzzling her nose, and was pleased to see her give him her radiant smile again.

He was about to say something when a faint echoing of footsteps made him perk up. Hermione heard them, too. She half-stumbled, catapulting out of Severus's lap and nearly tripping over her own feet as she scurried around his desk and adjusted her wrinkled garments.

The door creaked open, and a silhouette emerged. Both she and Severus, who was adjusting his robes, eyed the person who had entered, praying their expressions didn't give them away.

"Professor?" Hermione inquired, her cheeks glowing redder at the sight of a very flustered-looking McGonagall.

"Oh, there you are, Miss Granger! I had a feeling you might be serving detention tonight. You need to come with me this instant."

"Is something wrong?"

The frantic look on McGonagall's aged face was startling and shook Hermione awake from the intoxicating exchange she and Severus had been sharing moments ago.

"I'm afraid so. And Severus," she nodded towards the dark wizard now getting to his feet, "we'll need you as well. Albus is asking for you."

Hermione and Severus shared fleeting glances before he proceeded to join her at her side. "Minerva?" he offered curtly, sounding emotionless as usual.

"I'm sorry to disrupt you both so inconveniently like this, but it cannot be helped."

"Professor, what's wrong?"

McGonagall strolled forward and touched Hermione on the shoulder, giving her a grave frown. "I'm afraid Mr. Weasley's been poisoned. Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley are with him now, but I knew you would want to be there, too."

"_Poisoned?_" Hermione's eyes enlarged, and her mouth dropped to the floor.

A crease appeared between Severus's eyebrows. "What happened?"

"I'll explain on the way to the hospital wing. Please, come with me."

* * *

**A/N #2: About time, yes? :) But there's still a lot of hurdles standing in their way, including a certain redhead.**

**The circumstances aren't perfect, but it rarely ever is with these two, is it? _One step forward, two steps back._..  
**


	22. A Spy's Confessions

**A/N: A very long and heavy-handed chapter here, and one that was admittedly a lot of fun to write; I hope it grips you. Like I mentioned before, I'm spinning matters from Rowling's world a certain way that befits_ this_ story, so I hope you find it, if nothing else, plausible. There are many other questions floating around that haven't been addressed yet, I know, and they will all get answered in their own time.  
**

**To all State-side readers: I hope you had a Happy Fourth of July. _Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 22: A Spy's Confessions**

The next several days were a whirlwind for all. Ron had been poisoned but, thankfully, was given a promising diagnosis, and was soon on the mend in the Infirmary. More deaths and disappearances were making _The Daily Prophet_, however, which only heightened everyone's nerves, especially in light of what happened to Ron. Severus Snape had all but disappeared from the school, which distressed only one individual: Hermione.

Hermione only found out when she tried to seek out his company a few days after the incident. Professors Dumbledore and Slughorn had been present in the Infirmary when they arrived, and Hermione almost missed Severus entirely when he slithered out of the room to examine the contents of the poison, unnoticed by all except her.

It was his peculiar expression when he took his leave, however, that puzzled Hermione most and which she racked her mind over relentlessly in the days that followed. Ron had specifically asked for her, and in light of everyone's prying eyes, Hermione obliged him. But after the breathtaking moment she had shared earlier with the Potions Master—and with his own penetrating eyes watching her every move—sitting at Ron's side and clutching his hand so intimately felt wrong. Inwardly, she was disgusted with herself and, at the same time, had never felt more confused about her feelings.

When Hermione happened to glance over as the teachers left the hospital wing, she locked eyes with Severus for the briefest moment, and the only tangible thing she saw in those flickering eyes was either hurt, hatred, or a mixture of both. She almost called after him—his first name on the very tip of her tongue—until she thankfully came to her senses and stopped herself just in time.

Harry and Ginny soon left to give Hermione privacy; something she, in fact,_ didn't_ want. She was worried about Ron, and cared for his welfare immensely, but she didn't want to be alone with him. Not like this.

Why had sitting on Severus Snape's lap, holding him in her arms, then kissing him on the mouth felt so appropriate, and sitting vigil at Ron's side—a young man of her own age and for whom she had pined over for years—now seem so wrong? How had her morals gotten _this_ screwed up? And why was this nagging pull—this gravitational force—towards Severus Snape so unyielding and insensible and starting to consume her every thought?

Was this a crush? No, she had experienced that with Ron, and that paled in comparison to this. This was something more. Much more.

_You saw it in his eyes, Hermione. You felt it within yourself..._

After nearly a week of Severus's buggering absence, in which Professor Binns, the History of Magic teacher, assigned the students a handful of tediously boring textbook assignments, Hermione had had enough waiting around. Making the excuse that she had to go to the library again, Hermione abandoned Harry, Ginny, and a freshly recouped Ron to rush down to Severus's office. If he wasn't around, at least she could leave him a note and inquire where the hell he was.

Hermione found the classroom dark and deserted as expected and hiked up the stairs, hoping she would be able to force entrance into the place. She whipped out her wand, prepared to try a handful of incantations to counteract whatever protective charms Severus placed on his office, but when she gripped the door handle, she found it shockingly unlocked.

Hermione's heart was excited at her good fortunate and, without hesitation, she burst through the door. She was met with darkness and a shadowy figure that darted in and out of the shadows so quickly, she wasn't sure if it—whoever it was—was even human.

Before Hermione could make sense of what was happening, however, a flash of light came shooting at her. Hermione's wand was whisked from her hand, and her body was thrust against the stone wall, giving her a horrible thrash to the head. She cried out in pain as her body was levitated into the air, and then, just as quickly as she had called out into the darkness, Hermione crashed to the floor.

"_Hermione!_" came an enraged snarl she recognized.

Despite the pain, Hermione stumbled to her feet in fright. "Wha... What on earth was _that_ for? _Severus!_"

A few candles throughout the room suddenly flickered to life, bringing the professor into view at last. Hermione clutched the back of her head and winced, but once her eyesight adjusted, she could make out Severus's midnight silhouette amongst the shadows. He was standing at the back of the room with his wand raised, and with her own instrument clutched in his free hand. He lowered his arm, however, and flung Hermione's wand to her, which she fumbled to catch.

"Damn it, Hermione!" he hissed, his tone less abrasive but just as unhinged, "I've told you repeatedly to stop barging into my office unannounced! Have you listened to anything I've told you? If I didn't recognize your voice, I might have done," he paused before adding, "far worse damage than I did."

"Really?" she spat, aching from the hit to the back of her head. "Well, this place is flooded with students, so that's not very encouraging! And I actually didn't expect your office to be unlocked."

Severus crossed the room in a second. "Give me your hand," he ordered, glancing at the palm she had clutched behind her head. Confused, Hermione brought it around and was startled to find that her hand was stained with blood. Severus's eyes glimmered with distress. "You're hurt."

He grabbed her by the wrist and brought her over to the green sofa, shoving her down and leaving her side for a brief moment to retrieve something from inside one of his storage cabinets. Hermione stared down at her bloody palm in shock.

"Here," she heard him command, and suddenly her head was lifted back to take in a liquid substance that tasted revolting, like some grape-flavored, Muggle cough syrup. Hermione hacked in protest and shot Severus a deadly glare that warned him not to try that again.

"You could've warned me you were going to do that!"

"Be still, Hermione," Severus insisted, ignoring her griping. He waved his wand behind her head in a circular motion and began whispering—singing, rather—an incantation she wasn't familiar with, but his invocation was instantly soothing to her ears. "_Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur._"

"What is that?"

Severus only answered once he was through, and after his colorless eyes looked her over intensely for any lingering damage. "A healing spell of my own design."

Hermione rubbed at her throat. "What does it do?"

Severus arched an eyebrow. "Do you still have any head trauma?"

"I— No."

"Good. It reverses cuts and gashes. The tonic will ease your headache."

He turned away from her to summon another phial filled with a brown liquid into his hand that Hermione instantly recognized. "I don't think I need any Dittany, Sev—"

"You took a serious blow to the head, Hermione." His voice was gripping and stern. "Don't argue with me."

Hermione bit her lower lip but didn't protest. His scolding was very much like being his student again, only she was still his student, something she had forgotten too often of late.

Severus leaned back, and Hermione felt the warm brush of his soft fingers against the back of her neck and then her scalp, rummaging for the location of the cut she had received. A tingling, burning sensation crept over her skin as the Dittany was gently applied to her wound, and Hermione couldn't prevent herself from cringing.

"Are you all right?" Severus paused in applying the restorative, his brow furrowed.

Even with her eyes half shut, she could decipher the wizard's concern in the darkness. _Adorable, aggravating sod_, she mused to herself before she felt another shooting pain to her injury.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she winced unconvincingly. "Go ahead."

Hermione was relieved by the quick, precise moves Severus made, and the process was finished within moments. His hand lingered on her back, however, once the effects settled in, his eyes roaming Hermione's face as she continued to flinch.

"The pain will stop in a moment," he whispered encouragingly.

Hermione nodded and reopened her eyes after the pain passed. She was surprised to still see the visible worry on Severus's visage and noted additionally how tired and drawn he was.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," he apologized, his sincerity heartfelt. It lessened her anger with him. "I didn't know... I didn't know it was you. I'm sorry, Hermione."

"It's all right—"

"No, it isn't!" he snarled. "I should have been more careful."

"Well, you reacted quickly enough."

She was too busy enjoying his hand on her back to really care anymore about his apology, and he didn't seem consciously aware that he was still touching her. "Are you sure you're all right? Do you still have a headache?"

"I'm fine, Severus, really. I didn't mean to barge in. I just..." She paused and searched his office suspiciously. "What on earth were you doing here in the dark anyhow?"

Severus grunted, uneasy, and removed his hand, much to Hermione's dismay. "I just got back."

"That was going to be my next question. _Where've you been, Severus?_"

"I... I had some matters for the Headmaster I needed to take care of."

"For Dumbledore? Why? What?"

Severus gave her a sultry sort of smirk that made her breath give way. "Always so many questions..."

"Don't I have the right to ask?"

"Not exactly. I'm still your instructor, and I can withhold whatever information from you I want."

"And if I'm highly suspicious about what you're up to, I can't ask?"

"Hmm. That_ does_ present a problem..."

"Stop taunting me, Severus. Where've you been?"

Severus's face grew sober and withdrawn, but he didn't inch away from her either. "Hermione," he struggled, reaching out to tentatively take her hand—a shocking, but much desired move that Hermione relished. "There is something very crucial about me that I - I'd like you to know. But if I tell you... Damn it, I'm risking far too much here!"

"Severus," Hermione implored, watching his strange disgruntlement. He turned away from her with his brow contorted, and whisked his free hand through his hair several times. "If you're worried about confiding in me—"

"Indeed, I _am!_" he emphasized with more bite than he intended.

Hermione frowned, growing more and more alarmed. "Why?"

"Because of what you may think." He shot Hermione a look that concerned her; she had never seen the powerful wizard actually _afraid_, but at the moment, he appeared as though he were, and the sight was quite staggering to behold. "And what you may do with the information once I tell you..."

"Severus, you're making me nervous. And you're infuriating me, too! I've proven to you that I'm trustworthy, haven't I? Just tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help."

Severus let out a profound sigh, and his face was more fatigued than just a minute ago. Hermione reacted by pressing his hand; it lessened her anxiety, and she could only hope it provided the same level of comfort to him. Whatever Severus wanted to share, she could tell he was tormented about it, and she was determined to make whatever this was easier for him.

"Let me help you, Severus. Even if it's just to listen, let me be here for you." She reached over with her free hand to stroke his cheek, loving, once again, the way his eyelashes fluttered in response. "I think we're past civility at this point, wouldn't you say?"

Severus's eyes stopped moving and locked on her, dark and mysterious. "Hermione—"

"We can talk about that later. I don't want to get off topic. For now, tell me what's bothering you."

Severus hesitated, staring at her for a while before he finally uttered, "Will you... Will you give me your word that you won't divulge what I'm about to tell you?"

"Of course," she answered without issue.

"Hermione, I mean it." His voice grew hushed and almost threatening. "My life depends on your discretion. If I can't confide in you—_and I shouldn't_—then I can't confide in anyone. I don't want this to be a mistake. If you tell anyone, _I'm done for_."

Hermione examined his elusive, but intensive, regard, and the panic swarming in his eyes was indisputable. She felt quite stricken, but she forced herself to remain as collected as possible.

"Severus, you have my word. It may not be much, but I wouldn't offer it to you if I didn't trust you."

"So then... You trust me?"

There was a level of uncertainty that lingered, but it brought a serene smile to Hermione's face. She bent forward, without so much as a glimmer of indecision, and touched her lips to his.

_Merlin... I've wanted this... So much_, Hermione's mind egged her on, matching her body in its craving.

Severus was taken aback by the Gryffindor's boldness, but then his will easily withered at receiving her passionate kiss. She was so sincere, so tolerant, so inviting that Severus couldn't stop himself. He had never received anything that touched upon this rush or level of yearning before, and he wanted to taste just a little bit more of her sweetness before the witch rejected him outright for good. And he knew she would do so. Very soon.

Hermione was the first to pull back, but both were bereft of air and breathing hard. Hermione tried to recompose herself, though it was fairly difficult with those beautiful, intoxicating irises blazing into her own, filled with such need. _For her_. It was almost too much.

"Severus," she rasped, taking hold of both his hands and placing them in her lap, "what's going on? _Tell me_."

She felt his hands trembling, and the unnatural nervousness Severus projected only heightened Hermione's own. But her kiss and touch seemed to be the very push that he needed. Severus grunted to clear his throat, but also in an attempt to regain some self-control.

"Hermione," he began unsteadily; it didn't befit him at all. "I have told you before that I'm not who you think I am, but that isn't entirely true." He stopped to survey her reaction, which was only to wrinkle her brow. To his relief, however, her gaze was still soft. For now. "When you confronted me months ago about still being a Death Eater... I wasn't entirely forthright with you."

Hermione's heart began to race, and a dreaded notion started to formulate in her mind, though she tried to remain visibly neutral and allow Severus to continue uninterrupted. She swallowed and kept her eyes locked on his.

"The conclusion you reached late last year wasn't completely unfounded. You are far too clever to have _not_ drawn such deductions about me. And you were very right when you told me that I've brought a lot of that upon myself. I've never sought to make anyone believe anything in particular, or sway anyone's low opinions of me, but I - I want _you_ to know who and what I am. I'm not even sure why; this is all very untoward and out of character for me, and yet I..." Severus gazed at her without blinking, and his grip on her hands tightened. "I guess you've worn me down and have helped me realize, more than you know, that maybe the risk is worth it..."

Hermione's caramel eyes softened further, and for a moment, her uneasy feelings disappeared. But then Severus tightened his grip on her hands again and bent his head to conceal his face. Hermione knew that whatever he was about to disclose, he was deeply ashamed of, and she prayed that the worrying conjecture in the back of her mind was wrong.

"Hermione," Severus murmured, straining to say the words, "I _am_ still a Death Eater, but only in craft. I've been so ever since the Dark Lord returned. I'm a spy for Dumbledore, and a spy for the Dark Lord. But I am loyal only to one, and even then not entirely, as I haven't shared all of myself with anyone my whole life and probably never will. But the other doesn't know of my true mask; _he can't know_. If - If he ever finds out that I've been disloyal to him, then _I am a dead man..._"

Hermione's breathing had quickened as she stared into the face—_or was this a mask, too?_—of Severus Snape, but not in the manner she had done moments ago. Severus caught the distraught emotion that tore across Hermione's eyes immediately: fear.

"Hermione, I'm a double agent. I spy for the Headmaster, I spy for the Order, and I spy for Lord Voldemort. But I'm on your side, Hermione. I swear it."

"...Wha - What?"

"The Dark Lord and his followers do not suspect me of any wrongdoing, and they aren't aware that I report all of their moves to Dumbledore. In return, I have to offer up_ something_ of value to the Dark Lord, or he'd suspect me. I have been most fortunate to gain his full confidence. He confides in me a great deal—more than anyone else—and what he shares I report to Dumbledore, and, he, to the Order. I have found it too difficult to be amongst that company, as you are already aware and know why.

"But as a Death Eater, I must partake in a lot of gruesome things that I despise..."

Severus paused, extremely reluctant to continue, especially at discerning the trepidation in the fetching young witch at his side. It all but sucked the very life out of him to receive confirmation of her newfound doubts.

Severus suspected that he was about to lose her, and it pained him more than he ever imagined it could. He tried to force the words out of himself. There was no going back now.

"As one of his followers, as in the past when I was a young man, I have done things that would disgust you. And I won't sugarcoat any of it for you, Hermione. You're as much an adult as I would expect. I won't deny to you that I've tortured, manipulated, and violated many innocent lives." Hermione stopped breathing altogether now, and a look of utter desperation forced its way to Severus's exterior. He inched closer, anxious for her to hear him out before she stalked off for good. "Please, Hermione... I hate what I've done, and I despise what I must do to maintain the Dark Lord's favor. Dumbledore and the Order do not know the lengths that I am forced to go to to extract information, but I do it because _it has to be done_. And no else could stomach it, or get away unscathed and without question, or possibly live with themselves...

"Please understand me when I tell you that I fucking hate myself for it. I loathe the terrible things that I've done, and I lament them every day. _Every single day_. They - They haunt me every waking moment. They're why I don't sleep, don't eat, and don't communicate. Because it is too strenuous to live with myself, and I cannot expect you or anyone else to partake in my nightmares with me. You cannot begin to understand the horrors that I've seen or what I've endured, Hermione, and I don't ever want you to. _Ever_. And that's all irrelevant to what I'm trying to tell you tonight..."

Severus squeezed Hermione's hands even more, holding firm in the hopes that she wouldn't break away just yet. He anticipated that it would happen at any given moment now and was determined to prevent it for as long as possible.

"There are reasons for why I am such an exceptional Legilimens and Occlumens, Hermione, because _I have to be_. Otherwise, I would never have gained the Dark Lord's trust. He is far too cunning, far too clever—even for you—and if anyone else in the Order attempted what I do every day, they wouldn't last a day; make no mistake. I don't say that to gloat, it's simply just too much for almost anyone to bear or handle. For_ me_, it's my life, and my obligation. And the Dark Lord does trust me - _completely_ - which puts me at great personal risk. Every hour, every day, every moment. I am under constant scrutiny all the time.

"Dumbledore trusts me, but even he doesn't know everything, and nor should he. But he trusts me, nevertheless. And that is not unfounded, no matter what Potter or anyone else may think. I have put my life on the line for Potter countless times, despite how ungrateful a brat as he is, and the Headmaster's well attuned to the double life I lead. He's the only one who's known, Hermione. All this time, Dumbledore's been the sole individual who knows my true identity.

"_You_ are the second. And probably the last. And if that is so, then I'd very much like it to be _you_."

Severus was shocked by just how much he meant that confession, and despite her own reservations, Hermione couldn't help being drawn to those delicate words. "Severus..." she breathed, stunned, but the echo of his name was all Severus needed to hear.

"You - You've come to mean a great deal to me, Hermione, and you deserve this much after everything you've endured in an attempt to get to know me—_the real me_. I cannot deny this to you any longer, even if it compromises me. You've been the only person who has dared to get close enough, and not just to scoop for information—I know that now—but to understand _me_.

"I - I know I push your efforts away most of the time when you try, but I don't want you to stop. I don't want you to give up on me, Hermione. Please don't... Please don't give up on me..."

Hermione felt the breath she had been holding finally exit her lungs, but she was hardly poised or calm anymore. Her head was spinning, and the dark figure clutching her hands so desperately, though still tangible and very present, was _not_ the same individual she had been conversing with only five minutes ago. He was somebody else; someone she couldn't be sure of just yet. Even with her newfound doubts, Hermione _wanted_ to believe him, but found herself conflicted and shocked by his revelations.

"So you..." Hermione struggled to find her voice; her throat was parched. "So you_ are_ a Death Eater then?"

Severus's mouth tightened in a flicker of consternation. "Yes, Hermione, but only in pretense. I'm a Death Eater, yes, as you guessed on your own, but that is not who I really am.

"I don't share their warped beliefs about pureblood supremacy, I don't care for their revolting methods for passing the time, and I certainly don't share their pleasure in torture as a form of entertainment. _I'm not one of them_, Hermione, but I... I have to pretend to be. _All the time_.

"And it makes me sick to my stomach. I'm not surprised you, your peers, or even my colleagues believe me to be on the wrong side. Even many of the snakes in my own House are convinced that I'm still a true Death Eater, and as loyal to the Dark Lord as I ever was."

"And you were," Hermione whispered, finding it difficult now to meet his eyes, "at one time..."

Severus's mouth twitched unhappily, and his voice grew darker, even sinister. "I have told you before, Hermione, I was young and naïve. It's no excuse, but there you have it. I switched sides when I learned that the Dark Lord was planning on going after the Potters. I proclaimed my allegiance to Dumbledore and became his mole, and I've never turned back. I've never gone back on my word. And I never will, even if it may seem so in the future..."

Hermione couldn't quite gather everything Severus was sharing. She bit her lower lip, bringing her eyes upward to meet his, but with some reluctance. "So you - you're working for Lord Voldemort then?"

"Only to extract information from him—"

"So you lied to me."

Severus went rigid, and Hermione felt his grip on her hands loosen considerably. "Hermione, I had to."

"So you_ were_ summoned that time that you clutched your arm." It was more of a direct statement than a question, and Severus didn't move. His eyes had hardened, and Hermione almost lamented her words, but she was too far gone now to be gracious or careful. "So you didn't walk around the grounds, as you said you were doing."

"No, I did not."

"Very well." Hermione lowered her head in injury; it made Severus's chest heave.

"Hermione," he issued more emphatically, "I couldn't tell you. _I simply couldn't_."

"I - I know. But you still lied to me, Severus, and now... Now you're telling me you're a Death Eater and work for Voldemort but are also working for Dumbledore. I just..." Hermione's cheeks turned a crimson hue, showcasing her inward turmoil and conflicting beliefs. "I don't know what to think, Severus. I don't know how to process this. I don't know—"

"If you trust me anymore..."

Hermione met Severus's eyes directly and was shaken by the perceptible and gripping sadness she found. Severus looked beyond miserable—hopeless, too—and turned his head away from her in defeat. He removed his hands from hers and slunk forward, allowing his hair to fall forward once more to shield his face from view.

"Severus," Hermione implored delicately, "please try to understand. I _want_ to trust you. I really do." When he didn't move or say anything, Hermione scooted as close to him as possible and retook possession of his hand closest to her, clasping it tight. For whatever reason, she wasn't frightened, despite everything she now knew. "This is _a lot_ for me to process."

"I know." His reply was both desolate and heartbroken.

"I just... I wasn't expecting this. Granted, I really didn't know what you might reveal to me, but it certainly wasn't anything on this level. I'm shocked. I suppose I just have a lot of questions I need to ask you in order to make more sense of things."

To her surprise, Severus chortled, albeit almost inaudibly, and the sound sent a wonderful ripple through her chest she had so come to appreciate. It was still very fresh and new, and yet sublime. To hear the wizard's soft laughter was also encouraging, and for whatever reason, it gave her reason to hope.

"Always questions," he murmured, not meeting her eyes.

Hermione reacted readily. "Don't act so surprised."

"I'm not."

"Well?"

Severus exhaled, his thumb gently tracing the dip between Hermione's pollex and index finger. "Very well, if you insist, but please, Hermione..."

"I won't press you, Severus. If I touch on something that's too difficult for you to talk about, let me know, and we'll move on."

"All right."

Hermione reflected in that moment how much the dark man sounded and looked more like a battered child than a grown adult. There was something tattered and terribly vulnerable in his hunched over stance, the way he spoke so tentatively, and even the innocent manner in which he held her hand. She didn't know what compelled her next move—he had only minutes ago proclaimed himself a Death Eater to her face, after all—but Hermione extended her free hand and brushed Severus's fine hairs behind his ear, gently weaving the strands through her fingers as she surveyed his profile.

"I appreciate what you said," she offered softly, "about wanting it to be _me_; about wanting me to be the one to know the real you." There was something so pure and honest in that proclamation Hermione couldn't deny, and it gave her further reason to hope.

"It's true," Severus returned feebly, still not looking at her.

"I know it is. And I believe you."

"But why?"

"Why what, Severus?"

Severus finally peered over at her, the blackness conveying a misery that shot straight to Hermione's heart. "...Why are you still here?"

Hermione was stumped at first and unsure how to answer. "Oh! I..."

"Yes?"

Hermione thought long and hard about everything that had been disclosed, though it was a bit like searching for a broken-winged key amongst thousands, until she finally molded a conclusion that, to her, made sense, not just in her mind but in her heart. If nothing else, she knew this feeling to be true. She squeezed his hand, and spoke with urgency.

"Because you told me you're a Death Eater but that you despise it. Because you gave up a great secret and are entrusting me not to blow your cover. Because you've put yourself at great personal risk by opening up to me this way, without knowing what I might do or how I might respond. And because you wouldn't have told me otherwise unless you felt _something_ for me..."

Hermione's fingers massaged the side of his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, then the dip in the curved lips she savored. Despite everything, Hermione still wanted to kiss them again. Eventually, her fingers came to rest on his cheek, and she felt his hand weave more securely around the other she held on to as he stared deeply into her eyes, no longer with desolation but with longing.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to..."

Hermione shook her head very slowly, already aware of what Severus wanted to convey but was struggling to get out. "I can't begin to imagine what this has been like for you, to keep this all to yourself. I can't imagine what you must be going through, Severus..."

"I can't share much of that with you, Hermione. It's - It's too..."

"It's all right. You don't have to; I don't expect it."

Severus closed his eyes, his countenance a mask of restraint as he allowed Hermione to stroke the side of his face. He wanted to memorize those wonderful hands of hers, and never wanted to forget the feel of them, so delicate and warm; again, so much like Hermione, so much like _her_.

"That night," he murmured, his voice drifting, "that you took care of me..."

"Yes?"

"And you asked me if I had been performing Legilimency before our practice session..."

Hermione's nerves heightened, but she pressed his hand, urging him to continue. "Yes?"

"I was, that very night. All evening long."

Hermione eyed him over, alert. "Did he ask you to?"

"Yes. I am commanded to delve into people's minds quite often; I'm the most proficient at it. It's my duty."

"_Who_, Severus? _Why?_"

There was an unsettling calmness in his demeanor that unhinged her. Not because of what they were discussing, but because he appeared entirely numb to all of it, as if he had wholeheartedly accepted this to be his life and all it would ever amount to.

"Muggle-borns," he answered inanimately. "It's mostly simply to inflict torture until the Dark Lord tells me or someone else to dispose of them."

"D - Dispose?"

She knew what he meant, of course, but couldn't stop herself from repeating it. Severus's bleak response didn't help matters.

"Yes."

"Does he ever ask _you_ to perform the _Killing Curse?_"

Severus didn't blink, but there was a hesitation before he answered. "Not yet."

"But you would obey him without question?"

"I would very much be dead if I didn't."

Hermione's eyebrows came together, and she stopped massaging his cheek, simply cupping it against her palm. She hated how devoid of feeling he had grown in a matter of minutes, knowing it was the only way to protect himself, probably from insanity. She despised the Dark Lord already, but now loathed him even more for the man he had irrevocably damaged and was robbing her of.

"What else does he force you to do, Severus?" she asked, her voice hushed.

"All manners of torture."

"On Muggle-borns?"

"Mostly, yes, and my fellow Death Eaters as well."

Hermione jolted. "What?"

"For his personal amusement. He'll have us take out our anger, frustrations, but mostly boredom, on one another."

"Have - Have you..."

"Have I been cursed and hexed?" Severus gave an austere sort of snicker that put Hermione's stomach in knots. "Yes, of course, countless times." He paused, surveying Hermione's concern, before adding, "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does, Severus! Does Dumbledore know that you're going through all this?"

"Yes, Hermione. He's no fool."

"But you've never discussed it with him, have you?"

"Of course not. Believe me, Dumbledore doesn't _want_ to know the specifics of what I endure for him. It would only bring him guilt, and the old man can't be bothered with that."

That didn't sit well with Hermione, and she couldn't help but question the great Headmaster, probably for the first time in her entire life. Did he not care? Judging by Severus's acid response, she gathered he mustn't, but it didn't seem in Dumbledore's nature or disposition not to care. He had always been so good to her, but especially to Harry. She forced her unsettling reservations to the back of her mind and asked another question.

"And your injuries..."

"I'm a Potions-maker, Hermione. I can tend to my wounds just fine."

Hermione didn't want to get off_ that_ subject, but there were too many looming questions she couldn't ignore. "And the Dark Lord's never suspected you?"

"No, never." He snorted, a very dark look surfacing. "He's used Legilimency on me many times but has come to believe the images I've offered up to him."

Hermione arched an eyebrow in awe. "You mean... You give him fabricated memories?"

"Yes."

"How on earth—"

"I won't have enough time in the year to teach you how, but it _is_ possible to learn."

"He's a bigger fool than I thought."

Severus's sable eyes narrowed. "Don't underestimate him, Hermione. The Dark Lord is cunning and manipulative. He's tried unsuccessfully in the past to confound my mind, to confuse the memories I've given in an attempt to delve deeper. I've always had to remain three steps ahead, and it's not easy. Don't ever mistake just how crafty or dangerous or powerful the Dark Lord is."

"I - I won't."

"He's a maniac; a psychotic without _any_ regard whatsoever for the sanctity of human life, not even his most trusted servants like myself. He wouldn't hesitate to kill me or Bellatrix or anyone else if it meant getting him what he wanted. He doesn't care for anyone or anything."

Hermione gulped. She knew all of this, but hearing it through the severity of Severus's tone of voice sharpened her morbid sense of the man, if he could be called such a thing. "How do you do it?" she whispered so faintly it barely touched the air around them. "How do you withstand it?"

Severus's gaze softened, but only just. "With difficulty," was all he could muster in return; Hermione couldn't bring herself to pry him for a better answer.

_Oh, Severus..._

"I... I'm so sorry..."

"Always apologizing, too," he purred, shaking his head at her with disapproval, but with a hint of an attractive smile.

It brought Hermione relief, even comfort, and she found herself smiling back. "I can't help it."

"I've worked that out by now."

"Don't be fresh."

"I'll stop being fresh with you when you cease apologizing for matters outside of your control, and for which you've had no part in."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fair enough." She paused to examine their hands, still fastened to each other, before speaking again. "And the Horcruxes?"

Severus's irises shimmered for a fleeting moment. "What about them?"

"How much do you actually know?"

"Hermione—"

"You've brought me into this charade, so you're going to have to play fair now." Severus opened his mouth, but Hermione was quicker. "I can push on _this_ subject, Severus; I've earned the right."

"You're bold, Gryffindor. Too bold."

"Does that frighten you?"

"Terribly. It makes me quiver in my boots," he drawled without so much as flinching.

"Shut up, and don't get me off topic."

"Very well."

"_How much do you know?_"

"Not enough, I'm afraid. I know of only five items for sure; the others are merely guesses. And for all I know, there could be more than what I'm thinking."

"Go on."

"The diary, as you yourself stated before, was a Horcrux. When Potter destroyed it in the Chamber of Secrets, a part of Voldemort's soul died with it; that's indisputable, and Dumbledore and I both reached that conclusion easily enough.

"Another Horcrux lies in the Lestrange family vault at Gringotts, and I only know of it on account of overhearing Bellatrix talk about it when she thought she was being discrete. She's the only one of his followers he's ever entrusted with a part of his soul, and I think you know why."

"Because she'd follow him to the bitter end," Hermione returned with a shudder.

"Indeed. If the Dark Lord asked Bellatrix to hang herself with her own net of hair or jump off a cliff, she wouldn't hesitate, and would do so without question. The woman is beyond deranged, and beyond anyone's help."

"What _is_ the Horcrux in her vault?"

"It's believed to be the prized cup of Helga Hufflepuff."

Hermione's brow furrowed, stunned. "What? But why would he choose—"

"I believe—no, I'm certain—that the Dark Lord's collected an item from every House."

"I see... Did you overhear Bellatrix say this?"

"In a cryptic, roundabout way, yes. The Dark Lord entrusted her with the item a long time ago when he first rose to power, when I first became a Death Eater. But he created it well before that time."

"How do you think he came to possess it?"

"Well, I researched the cup, at the time merely out of curiosity. I was young, and it was fascinating to me. Through my own investigation, I learned that it was passed down through the centuries to various Hufflepuff descendants. The last known heir to own the cup was Hepzibah Smith. It's a long, complicated story, but Smith was murdered and the cup disappeared. It's never been found.

"At the time, Smith knew the Dark Lord—then Tom Riddle—who often visited Borgin and Burkes where he was working. Suffice it to say, she showed it off to him; a very unwise move, of course.

"She also had another prized heirloom in her possession: the locket of Salazar Slytherin." Hermione blinked hard, stunned by yet another revelation. "She told him about that as well. She was murdered shortly after the Dark Lord started his employment. Both the cup and the locket were stolen at the time of her death. Coincidence? I think not."

"How did she come to possess something—"

"Not of her own family heirloom? I questioned the same thing, so I delved further. For some time, it was known to be in the Gaunt family—descendants of Salazar Slytherin—and, more specifically, in Marvolo Gaunt's possession. When he and his son, who knew the Dark Lord personally when he was still Tom Riddle, were sent to Azkaban, his daughter sold the locket for a terribly meager price, and eventually it ended up in Smith's hands.

"Marvolo Gaunt also owned a ring—a heirloom of the House of Gaunt—which had been passed down through generations until the Dark Lord stole it from Morfin, Marvolo's son, and framed him for the murder of his father and grandparents, the Riddles."

"Merlin... So the diary, the ring, the locket, the cup..."

"And Quirrell." Severus gave a tired sigh. "I forgot about him."

"Oh, well, that makes sense." Hermione's mind was overloaded, and she was starting to get a headache. She scrutinized Severus through narrowed eyes. "Why hasn't the Dark Lord ever shared any of this with you?"

She had her own suspicions but preferred to hear them from Severus himself. Severus's expressionless countenance didn't falter, and he bluntly replied, "The Dark Lord would be a real idiot to share this information with any of us, including me. I'm surprised he even trusted Bellatrix with such knowledge at all, let alone the task of safeguarding one of them. She's a loose cannon—always has been—and as dedicated as she is to her master, I still think him a fool for telling her.

"I think you already know _why_ I don't know, Hermione. Imagine what any of his followers might do if they learned that the Dark Lord had made Horcruxes. What if one of us turned on him? What if we shared it with wizards outside of our circle? What if word got back to Dumbledore, the only wizard he's feared all his life? It's far too great a risk, even for the Dark Lord, to share it with his most trusted followers.

"I'm amongst that selective group, but even he isn't dumb enough to share it with me, and for that, I have to give him credit. But he's also naïve to think none of us might be clever enough to figure his secrets out on our own."

"Like you..."

Severus eyed her softly, in a manner she found quite beautiful. "Indeed."

"Does Dumbledore know? You mentioned about him wanting to confirm the Horcrux theory through Slughorn, but does he know about the actual locket—"

"Yes, he knows, and he confirmed my belief in what Horcruxes might exist when I learned of the memories he's gathered on Voldemort over the years." Severus snorted mockingly. "Dumbledore thinks I didn't know, and I finally confronted him about it. He may think me too thick to know about his and Potter's little group therapy sessions, but I do. I'm no fool, even if he treats me as such from time to time.

"Dumbledore's located the ring already and destroyed it. He thinks he's on to where the locket may be as well. That's why he's been frequently absent from the school lately."

_And hasn't bothered to tell me a bloody thing._

The shock on Hermione's face was clear as day; it was also explicit in her rather breathless reply. "Dumbledore destroyed one of the actual Horcruxes? Merlin... So this really isn't a theory at all. It's - It's all real."

Severus sighed heavily, and his voice sounded drained of energy. "Yes, very much so."

"_Why didn't you tell me?_"

"Hermione—"

"Why on earth can't we tell Harry about this?"

"If it were up to me, Potter would have known a long time ago," Severus hissed, his reply tasting of bitterness, "but that decision ultimately lies with Dumbledore. I have done everything I can to..." He took a deep breath, still holding tight to her hand, but his eyes closed, fighting off the depleted magic perceivable in his entire body.

"It's all right, Severus," Hermione reassured him, though inwardly she was screaming to inform her best friend, and didn't know how she was going to proceed from here. She also didn't know what was at the tail end of Severus's sentence, only that he was visibly exhausted, and she didn't have the heart to press him much further. "I - I just have one further question for you—for now—if that's all right?"

Severus opened his eyes and gave a weary smirk. "What is it?"

"What are your other guesses?"

"Ahhh." Severus drew inward for a minute of reflection, and then sat back on the couch. Hermione did likewise, watching him intently as he stared off at nothing in particular. "Well, if he possesses something from all of the founders of Hogwarts, that leaves Ravenclaw and Gryffindor...

"Rowena Ravenclaw had a diadem at one time in her possession, known as the 'lost diadem.' Obviously, it's never been found. Something tells me that the Dark Lord discovered its whereabouts. I'm not sure how, and this is merely intuition, but I believe he's found the diadem, and hidden it away somewhere nearby, perhaps even here at the school."

"_Here?_" Hermione interrupted, before awareness befell her. "The Room of Requirement... That's why you had that scribbled down."

For the first time that evening, Severus shot her a veritable smile, a small gesture that made her heart skip a beat. "Perhaps your reputation precedes you, after all."

"Oh, come off it."

Hermione tried to look cross, but it was a terribly failed effort. She was blushing furiously.

Severus continued solemnly, "It would be a highly-prized item, and I don't know of any other such relic of that kind of value that would have come from Ravenclaw House.

"As for Godric Gryffindor, I confess, I'm at a loss... The sword is what he passed on, and I don't know of what else the Dark Lord would consider to be of the same quality. And the sword is obviously _not_ a Horcrux, but he must have made one out of _something_ valuable that once belonged to Gryffindor, or that was passed down through his descendants."

"Do you suppose that that's it then?"

"No."

Hermione's eyes expanded again. "_More?_"

"Nagini," he whispered, almost with wonder. "She might be. I've long considered her a possibility. She's never out of his sight, always by his side. It wouldn't be unlike the Dark Lord to mock everyone's intelligence in plain view."

"I see... Well, it would make sense."

Severus shut his eyes again, this time leaning his head back against the sofa with a soft sigh. She could see the depletion in his haggard features, now somewhat relaxed, as if a great weight had been lifted. It prodded her next move.

Hermione curled her legs up beside the slouched Potions Master and leaned into him, removing her hand from his so she could wrap her arms around his waist. She felt Severus's body tense around her, but she waited, laying her head against his shoulder as his body finally reclined into her embrace.

Hermione felt Severus's arms wrap themselves around her in return. _He's getting better at this_, she reflected with a contented smile. Severus brought her into his hold and placed his chin on top of her head, enjoying the softness of her curls, that vanilla fragrance she wore—wholesome and sweet—and the unfamiliar sensations that crept up on him once again.

_She hasn't forsaken me yet_, he thought, astounded. _She didn't run off. She stayed..._

Hearing Hermione stifle a breath, Severus peered down to find her youthful features contorted. "I've regrettably shared too much," he whispered, which brought Hermione's eyes to his in a heartbeat.

"No, it's all right, Severus. This is just_ a lot_ for me to take in..."

"I understand."

Severus braced himself, thinking, with dread, that he might have reflected on her actions too soon. But he continued to hug her close, praying she wouldn't move away from him. A short interlude of silence passed between them before Hermione spoke again.

"Perhaps some Billie Holiday might help my mind stop racing."

A deep, throaty chuckle issued from the man in her arms. Severus lifted his hand most gracefully, and the quiet atmosphere was soon filled with a recognizable tune, though Hermione still didn't know the words by heart.

The piano playing was soothing, however, as was the rich voice that crooned into the darkened room. It may have been unspoken, but Hermione understood why Severus listened to this song and likely played it often. It was, in fact, calming, allowing them both to retreat to another time and place that seemed rather blissful and carefree. Hermione listened to the lyrics for a while, and suspected Severus of doing the same at her side, just listening...

"Severus?"

"Yes?" he purred close to her ear, making her spine tingle.

"You _do_ feel something for me, don't you? I - I feel like I'm going mad not knowing for sure... We haven't exactly talked about it, about what's happening between us..."

"Later, Hermione," she heard him offer in a gentle manner she still wasn't accustomed to. His answer only brought her disappointment, but she knew she couldn't badger him anymore. "Let's talk about this later; tomorrow even. For now, I think this is more than enough." Her body went limp in his arms, which did not escape Severus's keen awareness, for he then spoke more emphatically, "I _do_ feel for you, Hermione. I - I'm very unaccustomed to this. It's all shamefully new to me."

"But it's new to me, too, Severus," she returned lightly, bringing him into a firmer embrace again, afraid that he might pull away at any second as was his nature.

"Well, it _should_ be new to you. You're young."

"Oh, so what does that make you?"

"Old, out of practice, and terribly pathetic."

"Shut up." Hermione's hair brushed Severus's chin as she gave him an affectionate regard that sent a heated rippling through his chest; it felt wonderful. "It_ is_ a shame though that you've been so out of practice," she bated with a sly grin that lit up her face. "You're a very good kisser, you know..."

For a fleeting moment, Hermione's mind touched on the kisses she had experienced with Ron in the short span they had been dating, and it took every fiber of her being not to cringe. It would certainly have given Severus the wrong impression at that moment, so she did her best to refrain.

"Mmm, yes, well, you're quite good yourself." A familiar crease formed between his eyes as he studied her expression. "And I really shouldn't be telling you these things."

"But you'll tell me everything else?" she teased, ignoring his emotional qualms.

"Point taken."

"Aren't we past whether or not this is considered appropriate?"

"I don't know. As you said, we still haven't discussed it."

Hermione contemplated that for a brief moment, then extended her smile and leaned into Severus's shoulder. His arms drew tighter around her, and Hermione settled in, snug and secure in the nook of his arm.

She loved these new feelings of affection that pulsated through every part of her body, though mostly her heart. She had no way of knowing what Severus was thinking for sure, but she reckoned his thoughts _had_ to be similar, or he would never have confessed such dark secrets to her, kissed her passionately, or embraced her the way he did now...

"You're right," she conceded softly, contented for the time being, "let's talk about this some other night."

With that, the unconventional pair sat on the couch in a comfortable silence, simply holding one another as Billie Holiday's voice serenaded them to sleep once more. Whatever setbacks they had experienced in the past months fell away as they slept, neither accustomed to not slumbering alone, and finding themselves quite receptive to this newness.

Before falling asleep, however, both secretly considered—unsure of what the other may be thinking—that perhaps this 'friendship' that was blossoming into something much more might just be what neither had ever expected to find: _love_.

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**A/N #2: Whew!  
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	23. Wizards Who Fall

**A/N: We're progressing nicely, yes? Another heartfelt chapter I hope you enjoy.  
**

******_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

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**Chapter 23: Wizards Who Fall**

The 'conversation' didn't happen as soon as Hermione would have liked. Severus was busy doing all manner of things in the week that followed—whether it was potion orders while she worked on homework, correspondences, or grading—it become very clear to Hermione right away that Severus was too busy and, as always, excessively overworked and stressed. His frequent disappearances on non-detention nights when Hermione tried to stop by created a new level of worry for her as well.

The only positive to Severus being too preoccupied for her was that it allowed Hermione time to reflect on everything he had disclosed or hinted at, as well as another uncomfortable reality that was making itself increasingly aware to her: Harry and Ron.

Hermione was now privy to vital information Harry ought to know that might actually help him defeat Voldemort, but she had refrained from unveiling anything to him. Hermione thought she was coming to terms with that unfortunate reality, but learning more in depth about the Horcruxes—and knowing that even Dumbledore was keeping secrets from Harry—unhinged her to the point of sickness.

Ron was also growing irritable, and for good reason. As he had been rightfully griping to her over the past week, she "never had time for him," and seemed to "prefer books over relationships." That hurt, but Hermione couldn't blame him. As far as she was concerned, she deserved his anger and resentment. She was supposed to be with _him_, and though she had been infatuated with Ron at one time, she no longer felt bound to Ron in any way, shape, or form.

Then there was the fact that she had kissed another man—twice—and confirmed what her heart already knew but kept trying to refute: she preferred Severus Snape. She had a deeply-held affection for the professor that was simply nonexistent with Ron.

There was no 'butterflies-in-the-stomach' when Ron drew near, no blushing when he looked at her a certain way, not even much physical contact, which Ron begrudged her for. "What's your problem?" he confronted her after Potions earlier that week. He had reached for her hand, and she swiped hers away rather awkwardly.

"Sorry, um, ink stain," she lied, feeling like the biggest half-wit on the planet, and a terrible liar to boot.

Then he challenged her once again in the common room the following evening. She had 'gone to the library,' and returned disappointed at not finding Severus in his office or classroom, both of which were locked.

"'Mione, why don't I see you anymore?"

"Sorry, Ron?"

"_You're always at the bloody library!_"

Hermione tried to stay neutral. "And this is a surprise to you?"

"_Every night?_ I mean, for Merlin's sake, 'Mione, is it really necessary to spend so much time trying to avoid me?"

The dejection lingering in Ron's question twisted Hermione's insides. "Ron..."

"You _are_ avoiding me, 'Mione! What the hell's going on?"

"Ron... I..."

"I knew it. There_ is_ someone else, isn't there?"

Hermione felt trapped. She didn't want to lie—_Merlin, Ron and Harry can never find out!_—but couldn't possibly face telling Ron that her feelings had changed. If anything, seeing the hurt etched all over his beet red face made Hermione feel guiltier than ever.

Her heart sank as she reflected over her circumstances. Where was this even going with Severus, if it _was_ going anywhere at all? He was her instructor and couldn't be seen cavorting with her publicly. There would be no open relationship for the pair of them. Everything was locked away, behind closed doors, and not being able to tell a soul dampened Hermione's spirits.

But if people knew, if she and Severus were ever discovered...

_Lie. There's nothing for it._

"Ron, there - there isn't someone else," she fibbed, biting her lip nervously. "I just... Things are getting bad. You've seen the _Prophet_. And Harry's become obsessed with that ruddy book, and he doesn't talk to us much anymore about what's expected of him.

"I - I just don't think this is a good time for us to do this, Ron, given what's happening; given what's out there waiting for us. We really need to be focused on Harry, and what he has to do."

Ron stared dumbfounded for a long time, his face a contortion of confusion, anger, and then shock. "This is about _Harry?_"

Ron clenched his shaking fists and began to breathe heavily. Hermione shot to her feet, startled.

"Ron, don't you think we should be—"

"_It's him_, isn't it?" he fumed, much louder than Hermione expected, and a look of horror surfaced at the dawning realization of what he was insinuating.

"_No, Ron!_ That's not what I meant!"

"Oh, I think you did! I should have known! You two have always had a 'thing' for each other, haven't you?"

"My god, Ron, _NO!_ I don't have feelings like that for Harry! You're completely off base! Merlin's sake, you should know that by now!"

"NO!" Ron shook violently. "I was right! You're lying! I can tell! I can see it!"

Hermione stood with her mouth hanging open, completely aghast. "I - I'm not lying, Ron—"

At that moment, Harry emerged from the stairs, eying his friends with trepidation. "Hey... What's going on?" he asked timidly.

Ron spun on his heel and stared Harry down with a hatred his friend had never seen before; not even in their fourth year when they had fumed for months had Ron looked at him like _that_.

"You and Hermione, that's what!" he roared, his temper heightening.

Harry looked at Ron anew, as if a garden gnome had sprouted straight out of his head. "_What?_"

"He won't listen to me!" Hermione exclaimed, "He thinks there's something—"

"_YOU AND HERMIONE!_" the ginger repeated. "You _do_ like her, don't you?"

Finally, Harry understood, and he gaped at Ron in astonishment. "Ron, I don't like Hermione like that! She's like a sister to me, mate! _You know that!_"

"BULLOCKS!"

"Ron—" Hermione tried again, reaching out to him as his rage tipped over.

Several people were now making their way down the stairs, curious about the noisy quarrel and Ron didn't waste any time. He lunged at Harry and wrapped his hands around Harry's neck, sending him crashing into the wall.

"_RON!_" Hermione screamed, running over to try to pry Ron's hands away.

"What - the - hell!" Harry squirmed and tried to free himself, just as Hermione tried to get Ron to back off.

Then Harry found his inner strength and shoved back with all his might. Ron went stumbling backwards into a desk chair and toppled over onto the floor. The matching rage in Harry's green eyes was acute, but Hermione tried to reach for his arm, only to find her efforts being pushed away a second time.

"I don't know what's happening to you, Ron," Harry spat heatedly, keeping his voice low so not everyone could overhear, "but you've gone completely mental!"

Ron, sprawled out on the floor, stared up at his best friend with his eyes burning. "I haven't gone mad—"

"YES, YOU HAVE!"

Hermione could only stare on, crushed and feeling more guilt-ridden than ever. Her eyes started to swim with tears, and she stepped forward to try to regain Ron's focus.

"You're wrong, Ron," she whispered, "so dead wrong. Don't do this. We all need each other, now more than ever..."

Ron's response felt like a slap to the face for both of them as he sputtered a defiant, "NO! Piss off!," got to his feet, and stormed out of the common room, leaving his friends stupefied and incapacitated.

"Enjoying the view?" Harry sniped at all the gaping faces watching them from the stairs. The students quickly scurried away, gossiping to each other as they went. Once Harry heard several doors close and the voices die away, he turned to Hermione questionably. "What the hell happened?"

"I... I guess I just broke up with Ron."

"What? Why?"

_Because I have feelings for someone else; someone you and Ron despise above all others and are convinced isn't on our side. And you'd be sickened and think I've gone mental for having feelings for such a man..._

"Because I don't think we should be entering into a relationship right now, Harry. And I think you know why. I - I can't be boggled down worrying about appeasing Ron's needs all the time when it's_ you_ who needs us. I'm not sure in what capacity or what that may be just yet, but I don't think it's a smart idea right now."

Harry's stunned expression altered as he considered her rationale silently. Hermione thought it to be a partly legitimate explanation, but it wasn't the truth either. She hated lying to her best friend, but how on earth could she possibly tell him?

She was already withholding essential information Harry should know about, and now she was additionally lying to him about the man she was in love with. Severus Snape was the one person Harry had ever truly despised—probably more than Voldemort—and he would likely never forgive her for befriending the wizard if he knew, let alone if he found out that she had kissed him, too.

"You're right," she heard Harry whisper, his mouth twisting. Hermione suspected what he was thinking about—Ginny—and she reacted by wrapping her arms around his neck in a quick, firm hug. When she pulled away, Hermione could see the pain had lessened, but only a little. "So Ron rushed to the conclusion that we're secretly infatuated with each other?"

Despite the circumstances, Hermione couldn't help but giggle. It was all so ridiculous, and Harry laughed right along with her.

"He's going to hate me for a while," she bemoaned, turning serious.

"He's going to hate us _both_," Harry corrected. He shook his head of messy hair. "We'll just need to give him some time to cool off and realize what an arse he's being."

Hermione exhaled and nodded in agreement. The next few days—perhaps weeks—would be uncomfortable and agonizing, and Hermione secretly prayed that her Ron would could back around and not despise her for the rest of his life.

* * *

"I see Crooks has been keeping you company," said Hermione, spotting her fluffy, orange feline on top of Severus's desk when she entered his classroom.

Severus simply smirked and continued to scribble something onto a piece of parchment, squinting his eyes against the harsh candlelight. It was a Wednesday evening, a usual night of 'detention,' as it were, though Hermione couldn't bring herself to even call it that anymore.

She meandered to Severus's desk rather than taking a seat. He didn't look up from what he was doing, seemingly too engrossed, so Hermione gently pressed his shoulder.

"Can't I help you?"

Severus blinked and peered up at her, but his bloodshot eyes were half opened, and the dark circles underneath them were worrisome at such a close proximity. She instinctively reached out and ran her fingers along his brow, then through his long tresses, loving the gentle sigh of content she received in return.

She could get used to this. No, she already was...

"I've been acting very untoward to you lately, haven't I?" he purred with a trace of a smile that actually reached his eyes.

"Yes, you have." She paused to bite her lower lip, now slightly apprehensive. "Are we ever going to—"

"Talk?" There was no irritation, much to Hermione's relief. "Yes, as soon as I'm finished grading these essays."

Hermione frowned as her attention drifted towards the rather large stack of papers Severus was currently trudging through, then a handful of potion orders she caught at the edge of his desk, and another heap of various exams yet to be graded. "Severus," she quietly implored, "_please_ let me help you? I could work on these potion orders?" Severus gave her a somber, though curious look, to which Hermione reacted before he could make an excuse. "I did get an 'Outstanding' on my Potions O.W.L., Severus. Believe it or not, I _can_ actually brew a draught or two. I may not be a master like you, but I'm more than adequate to do at least half of these."

Severus's curious expression turned into a smirk again. "You'll _try_," he challenged, and Hermione tended to his unnatural playfulness with an impish smile.

"Watch me."

"You'd do that?" he asked, genuinely taken aback by her gesture of kindness.

_Merlin, to never have anyone around or to offer help..._

"_Of course_, Severus. I think, with all the pressure you're under right now, you could use a second pair of hands; three or four, more likely." Her hand glided from his hair and came to rest on his back. "Please, Severus, let me help."

Severus was still reluctant, but eventually, after debating the matter internally, he consented with another half-smile. "Very well, know-it-all."

"Watch it, Professor. I have a very nasty streak, and it's best not to cross me when I'm doing something _nice_."

"Oh, I believe it."

Severus was on the verge of extending his neck upward to kiss her lips, now closer than before, but refrained. He kept forgetting this was not the time or place for such consorting, though the idea was very tempting...

_This shouldn't be happening at all, Severus_, his mind secretly badgered, as usual.

Hermione set to work on a variety of orders from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, as well as a few apothecaries, including Slug & Jiggers. It was more grueling than she expected, but that partially had to do with the pressure she placed on herself to complete as many as possible. She could feel Severus's eyes boring into the back of her head as she labored away, no doubt checking discretely to see how she was making out. It didn't boost her confidence, but eventually she settled into a rhythm and lost track of time.

Four hours later, the silk-like register of Severus's voice interrupted her concentration, and she nearly dropped her stirring rod into her cauldron. She cursed and shot the dark wizard now at her side an aggravated glare.

"Must you always sneak up on me like that?"

Severus's robust laughter interrupted her anger. It was distinctive, and sounded so appealing—not to mention attractive—that Hermione's agitation melted away. Severus's deep laughter matched the cavernous depths of his black eyes, and there was a true glistening there that didn't show itself often. It sucked her right in.

"You're a little too easy to sneak up on, Hermione. It's worrisome."

"Oh, rubbish. It's not easy for anyone else; _it's just you_."

"I find that hard to believe."

"You would."

Another bit of soft laughter, and Hermione felt one of Severus's warm hands slide across her shoulders to rest on her arm, gently pressing her to his chest. Being embraced in such a simple way felt admittedly overwhelming to Hermione, but in a wonderful, giddy sort of way.

"Might we talk now?" he inquired after a moment.

"Patience," Hermione teased, blushing as she stirred the contents of a more complicated Sleeping Draught. "I'm nearly finished."

"I don't like waiting," he hissed in her ear.

His tone sent a chill down her spine that she loved. She hitched a breath, hoping Severus hadn't noticed.

"Stubborn sod."

"Mmm, perhaps."

"Well, you'll just have to wait. I'm not going to let my remarkable efforts go to waste on this one."

"You assume too much," he snorted, peering down at her intently.

"Oh? Well, in that case, it's your fault. _You're_ the one who taught me, and gave me an Outstanding. If I'm inadequate, the failure's yours."

"In that case, I _am_ at a loss. But I don't believe my efforts were entirely wasted on you..."

Hermione cocked her head, eying him sportingly. "Entirely? Is that your twisted version of a compliment?"

"I'm not good at it."

Hermione couldn't stop herself from snickering. "No, indeed, you're not!"

Severus's expression turned serious. "I require your patience."

"Just as I need yours, for the moment."

"Very well," he sighed, sounding more contented than annoyed.

Hermione grinned and turned away to finish her work, but the Potions Master was proving quite the distraction. He didn't leave her side and, instead, hovered over her shoulder, playing to her nerves at being under scrutiny. Hermione found it funny at first, but by the end, she didn't like it one bit. Severus, on the other hand, couldn't have looked prouder at his ability to unhinge her with such little effort.

When Hermione's Sleeping Draught was complete, she and Crookshanks made their way up to Severus's office, the only place they seemed to be able to be together without the fear of unwanted eyes. Hermione sat down on the stiff, worn sofa and fiddled with her hands.

Why was she suddenly nervous? Severus didn't appear to be, but then he was also a far better master at disguise. She hoped she would be able to read his emotions more easily this time as he took a seat beside her.

Severus gave her his intense regard, but something was off. He half reached for her hand, his fingers lightly brushing hers, but then seemed to think better of it. Hermione quickly took matters into her own hands and gathered his in hers, which seemed to put him at ease a bit.

"Would you like a smoke break?"

At her suggestion, Severus stifled a laugh. "No." He gave her a sheepish, subtle grin that heightened her curiosity. "Kicked the habit."

"_Really?_"

"Really."

"Was that for my benefit or yours?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

Hermione smiled. "I'll take it that it was for me then."

Severus looked away, this time growing visibly nervous. "I'm sorry. I'm not good at this sort of thing."

"Neither am I," she tried to assure him when he wouldn't look at her; he was staring down at their intertwined hands, lost in thought.

"Hermione, I have told you before how inappropriate this is. I - I'm your professor. It is entirely unfounded and wrong of me to take advantage of your kindness."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, perplexed. "But you aren't, Severus. I kissed you, remember?"

"And I should have pulled away. I should never have allowed it to happen, Hermione. You have been entrusted into my supervision, and I shouldn't be doing any of this."

Hermione's heart started to race, panic rushing through her limbs, straight to her chest. "Severus... Please... Don't..."

He finally met her worried gaze, and his dark eyes were surprisingly soft and gentle, though still seemingly tormented. "I won't deny that I care for you, Hermione. I - I don't understand why. I don't understand any of this. I have labored over the matter for months, but there is no use in denying my feelings any longer... Especially now that I've confided in you.

"I deeply care for you; I want you to know that. There is a connection between us—though I've tried to convince myself for a while now that it was just a whim or that you didn't really feel anything in return—and it's something that confounds me daily. I don't understand..."

His face illustrated his discomfort now, and Hermione inadvertently squeezed his hand tighter, continuing to safeguard it in her lap. "I'm at a loss as to how you could possibly want to befriend me, let alone feel anything more. I'm not a nice person, for one, and have been terribly unkind to you in the past. I still am cruel in many respects. I'm difficult and harsh and not at all graceful in expressing myself. And I," he paused, his eyes almost slits as he tried not to grind his teeth together, "I'm not the sort of person any sensible young lady would be attracted to. I don't see how you could find _this_ remotely interesting. Either you are completely mad, or hallucinating, or perhaps both, but for the life of me I cannot grasp your feelings towards me. I wish I knew, I wish I could make sense of your regard, but I can't. I - I need your help..."

Severus ceased speaking and drew his head forward to allow his hair to fall all around him. Hermione shook her head and whisked the hairs away with her free hand, resting it upon his cheek. Severus closed his eyes and took in a sharp breath, leaning into her touch in such a vulnerable manner that Hermione's heart wanted to shatter.

"Severus," she implored, her voice exceedingly gentle and kind, "I'm glad to see you being so forthright with me. You express yourself much better than you think. It's your expressions and your actions that are more confusing at times, but I'm getting better at reading you and understanding what they all mean. It will take me a long time to decode you, but you're worth it to me.

"Yes, you _have_ been unkind to me in the past, but I've long suspected that a lot of that has to do with Harry. He's my best friend; we're always together. I think you lash out at Ron and me _because of Harry_. I don't know the whole history between you both, or why you hate each other so much, and now's not the time to get into all that. But I think there are more reasonable explanations behind the anger you've used towards me, and that's something I _would_ like to understand, sooner rather than later."

"You are referring to what I said to you in your fourth year," he grumbled, looking at her with a new expression of shame and self-loathing. Hermione almost jerked, remembering the harsh remark Severus had made very well, before nodding.

Severus sighed heavily. "You have every right to ask. I was under a lot of stress at the time, Hermione. I always am, however, so that is not enough of an excuse.

"The Mark was growing darker on my arm, and my fears were playing out before me around the clock; I was admittedly in denial at the start that the Dark Lord was on the verge of returning. I didn't want to believe the Mark was actually changing. I didn't want to think that things were about to turn nightmarish, and I certainly didn't want to see the confirmation on my skin at every waking moment.

"I probably got less sleep then than I do now, mainly because I was terribly anxious about what to expect. The tournament was an added stressor Dumbledore and I didn't need, not with the Dark Lord about to return, and we had no idea how he would do so, or when...

"I'd been at Hogwarts and working under Dumbledore for over a decade, Hermione. I never searched for the Dark Lord after he vanished, and I was terrified of how he would receive me back into his circle. I half convinced myself that he would, in all likelihood, kill me once I was summoned to his side—whenever that might be—and I didn't know when it would come, but that it would come soon. And I had no way of preparing myself...

"Draco is a brat, but I know the Malfoys well; Lucius and I were at school together. If I was at all sympathetic to you that day, Hermione, I would have risked Draco's questioning. I suspect he might have even informed his parents if he saw me going easy on a Muggle-born witch.

"I thought fast, I reacted, and I did what I felt was necessary at the time, but only to protect myself. I know how selfish of me that was. But I'm on pins and needles all the time, Hermione. You're the _only_ person who's seen this side to me, and this is all very difficult and nerve-wracking for me to show you."

Severus ran his fingers through his hair, his fingers twisting through the thick strands, trying to stop the shakes that were coming on. He quickly cleared his throat.

"I apologize for what I said to you, Hermione. By all accounts, it's unforgivable, and you are entirely within your right never to forgive me for what I said. You were only fourteen—a mere girl—and even_ I_ know what it means to be a teenager and go through the motions, and having your peers pick on you is hard enough. But being an adult, a teacher who's supposed to nurture and encourage you—something everyone knows I'm no good at whatsoever—makes what I did to you so much worse...

"I'm truly sorry, Hermione. You didn't deserve it. It was appalling of me, and believe it or not, I_ did_ regret saying it later, but there is no way you would have known. I'm cold and rigid and nasty, and I deserve your disgust. I should have apologized to you straightaway, and for that, I'm sorry, too."

"Severus, I've told you before, you_ don't_ disgust me." Hermione extended her free hand to stroke his cheek, hoping that he might feel the sincerity in her touch, if not her words. "Thank you for telling me. Your apology is appreciated, and I know you mean it. I suspected it had something to do with Voldemort's return, but only lately, and only because I've gotten to know you a lot better.

"If I hadn't bothered with you, I would still think you were being cruel for cruelty's sake, that you meant what you said, and that you don't possess a gentle bone in your body. But I now know that's not true, and I won't hold it against you."

The surprise and relief that Severus showed her made Hermione's heart drop. He didn't expect to be forgiven; he most likely was afraid of the topic surfacing at all, and had fully braced himself for her to rebuff him.

_Poor, adorable man..._

Hermione was certainly getting better at detecting his moods—at what lay beyond this mask of indifference—and suddenly became aware of the trembling hand encased by her own, which only confirmed her suspicions. She pressed his hand again.

"Thank you," Severus whispered, his voice slightly unsteady. "You are far too quick to forgive me, Hermione, but I... I do very much appreciate it."

"Severus, you're so much harder on yourself than anyone else is. I understand the world has treated you horribly, but that doesn't mean you'll _always_ be mistreated like this, by _everyone_. You won't by me, I can promise you."

_If only you knew how much that will change_, Severus lamented; the morbid reflection left a nauseating ache in the pit of his stomach.

"Thank you..." he managed.

Hermione smiled affectionately, her other hand continuing to caress his cheek. "As to your terribly low opinion of yourself, I'm not one to talk. You've seen how bad my self-image issues are... I really wish you hadn't seen any of that. I was beyond mortified—I still am—but you were very gentlemanly about it, which I appreciate."

"You are poorly mistaken about the manner in which you view yourself, Hermione; _gravely_ misconstrued."

"Am I?" she responded timidly, touched and taken aback by that bit of commentary.

"Yes, very much so." Severus reached out to twirl his fingers through her curls and swept a few of them back from her face so as to touch her rosy cheek. "You are beautiful, Hermione," he whispered softly and delicately. It caused Hermione's stomach to flutter excitedly, along with every other part of her body. "You are so beautiful and fiercely bright and funny and decent and wholesome and...

"I am entirely unworthy. You are a very deserving person, and you deserve far more than I could possibly offer you. And if I were a smart man, I would put a stop to this here and now, and let you tread off to find that better wizard who could make you happy..."

"Severus, don't say that." She scolded him with her eyes.

"This isn't right, though, Hermione. It's highly dangerous, for that matter. And it's all incredibly selfish of me to allow this to continue but I... I can't help myself anymore. I - I need you. I need you, Hermione; _I want you_."

Hermione gazed at Severus without blinking, soaking in every contour of his countenance that matched the conflict within. The undeniable longing evinced in the blackness of his eyes tugged at her heartstrings. Yes, there was no denying it. He really did need her. He genuinely did want _her_.

Hermione reacted readily and brought her hand down his cheek to greedily entangle her fingers through his hair. She bent forward so that their noses practically touched.

"You aren't selfish, Severus. You're human. And you _are_ worthy of my affection; that's something I'd like to help you realize. And I... I need you, too; I haven't been coming to your office virtually every evening for just someone to converse with. It's _you_ that I want to see, Severus, every day, all the time... I want to continue to get to know you, because you _are_ deserving of it.

"I - I know just as well as you that these are dangerous waters we're treading. I really wish it could be different. But I'm a grown up now, Severus. I'm capable of making decisions on my own, and I'm aware of the consequences. I can't deny_ this_ when it feels so _right_. I've been trying to convince myself that I'm just losing my mind, but that isn't true.

"It's you, Severus. It could have been anyone, but _it's you_..."

Hermione watched the dark wizard's eyes alter and shift, reflective and moved and undoubtedly surprised by her confession. There was a pain there, too, that Hermione instantly gravitated towards. But before she could make any kind of remark, Severus leaned in and let his forehead touch hers. He exhaled deeply, shuddering as Hermione's words penetrated through his normally unyielding, tough exterior to a tender place no one else saw but her.

"I never anticipated it to be you in a thousand lifetimes, Hermione. I've never expected this of anyone, and I still can't quite grasp it, but _you_—you're changing me. You've broken through to me in a way no one else has. Most have never tried or simply gave up on me..."

Hermione knew of whom Severus spoke with such frankness and misery, and she tried not to let her anger overpower her reply. "Lily gave up far too quickly, Severus. For as long as you two knew each other, you didn't deserve such swift rejection. She shouldn't have been so hasty to dismiss your friendship. You need to tell yourself that, Severus, repeatedly, if you must.

"You made a mistake, but the blame you've placed on yourself ever since is far too great. You need to forgive yourself."

"There is so much more to it than you know, Hermione."

He closed his eyes, fighting off ghostly images from his past. Hermione's voice, however, broke through it all, bringing him back to the present.

"Then tell me about it, Severus." Hermione inched her head forward to kiss his brow, taking in his wonderful warmth against her lips, and felt him respond with another tremor before clinging harder to her hand still folded in his.

"I don't deserve your affections, Hermione," he said in a tormented whisper and with a shame that yanked at Hermione's heartstrings. He was going to be far more difficult to comfort and bring peace of mind to than she ever imagined.

"_Yes, you do, Severus_. I'll just have to help you see how worthy of me you truly are."

"You are too wise for your years."

Hermione chuckled, lightly brushing at a few loose strands of his hair with her free hand. "My parents tell me that quite a lot, actually."

"Well, they're right."

Hermione paused and brought her hand to Severus's chin, bringing his face up to meet hers. "How old are you anyway?"

A flicker of angst, then a delicate smirk, emerged. "How old do you think I am?"

Hermione pouted. "That's not fair, Severus."

"I'd rather hear your guesses."

"Just so I can shell out a number so off base that you'll simply get cross with me?"

"Perhaps..."

"Bastard."

"You do realize, Hermione, that I agree with you on that point, so it's hardly an insult?"

"You're so aggravating."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "As are you, insufferable—"

"Doesn't bother me anymore, remember?"

Severus eyed her reflectively. "I shall have to remedy that then."

"You won't push me away so easily, Severus. And stop avoiding the question. _How old are you?_"

Hermione truthfully hadn't thought about it all that much until recently. He certainly looked fairly older than her, but wizarding age versus Muggle age was far trickier to decipher, and Severus always looked so severely worn and tired out most of the time that Hermione suspected him of being younger than he appeared.

"Guess," he retorted, causing Hermione to growl in the same irritated fashion as he.

"Ugh, stubborn sod! All right, fine. Thirty?"

Severus let out a sarcastic snort. "Hardly. Don't be polite."

"Um, thirty-five?"

"Mmm, closer..."

"Forty-five?"

"Now you're insulting me."

"I told you I would. Thirty-six?"

"Mmm, much warmer," he purred, causing her mouth to twitch excitedly.

"Thirty-seven?"

Severus's mouth curled into an alluring smile that Hermione matched. "Finally. That took you far too long, clever witch."

Hermione purposely ignored his baiting. "Wow, you're practically an old man."

"I _am_ an old man, compared to you."

"Not really," Hermione confessed, and she meant it. It bothered her much less than she expected it to. "My grandparents were twelve years apart."

"Twelve isn't the same as twenty."

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious."

"Unfortunately, I must with you."

Hermione jabbed him in the shoulder, but Severus's reflexes were just as quick. He removed his hand from hers and hauled her towards him. Hermione gasped, and then giggled at being locked in the powerful wizard's firm grip. Her nose grazed his as their eyes bore into one another's with a newfound playfulness.

"You are being exceedingly unkind tonight," she teased, unable to stop her laughter.

"It's my specialty," he growled in return, but Hermione shook her thick curls back and forth.

"Oh, shut it, would you? There's a real person underneath that cold, hard exterior. You aren't as inhuman and unemotional as you'd like everyone to believe you to be."

"You really _are_ insufferable."

"Is that why you've taken such a liking to me?"

Hermione wasn't sure what type of response to expect, but there was a short lapse in conversation that followed. Severus simply surveyed her youthful glow, rather in awe. Then he surprised her by bringing his lips to hers, his movements deliberately slow and controlled, in an effort to take his time and really savor the moment.

Hermione was completely unfamiliar with the sensations that swept over her each time they kissed. She allowed them all to consume her senses again, as she responded back in earnest. She pushed him back against the couch aggressively and, within moments, was straddled on top of Severus's lap with her hands cradling his face, enjoying the heated touch of the wizard's own fingers as they glided over the smallness of her back, wrapping themselves around her to thrust her against him.

The deep moan of pleasure that escaped Severus's mouth soon after caused Hermione to shudder with delight. She loved kissing him, relished the taste of him in her mouth, and didn't want it to end, but she was also losing air. Fast. Finally, both pulled away rather desperately, needing a small break to catch their breaths.

"Yes," came Severus's hoarse response, as he ran his fingers through her mass of soft curls, "that_ is_ why I've taken such a liking to you, as crazy as it is."

"I figured," Hermione tittered breathlessly, suddenly aware that she had the Potions Master pinned to the sofa. "This is quite a compromising position you're in, Professor..."

The dark smirk Severus gave was enough to drive Hermione over the edge. No one _ever_ looked at her that way—with such obvious want and desire—as if she were the most gorgeous, awe-inspiring creature there ever was. Ron could never gaze at her in such an earth-shattering way that left her head spinning.

Hermione loved it and desperately craved more. This time, she brought her mouth to his and slipped her tongue inside Severus's mouth in need. She may have been new to this, but every way she moved felt so perfectly in synch with Severus, not at all questionable or awkward as Ron's snogging was.

_And that's what it was_, her mind thought as it drifted for a second. Hermione Granger was snogging Professor Snape, and it didn't matter. It didn't matter at all because, to them, it felt appropriate; _it felt meant to be._

"Easy, lioness," Severus chuckled, easing back for air. "You_ are_ growing bolder."

Hermione bit her lip, suddenly self-conscious. "Did I do something wrong?"

She was relieved, and newly excited, when Severus laughed heartily and shook his head. He reached one of his hands up to stroke along her flushed cheek.

"Not at all, but you're very pushy when you want something."

Hermione snickered even louder. "You don't like being pushed?"

"No... But you're rather persuasive."

"Always need to be in control, eh?"

"Always."

"I'm sorry," she fumbled.

"Will you stop apologizing?"

"...Sorry."

Severus snarled, but it only made Hermione giggle. She didn't care if it was silly, or if she sounded ridiculous. She was on cloud nine, not at all ready to come down.

"I shouldn't have said anything. You are far too self-conscious."

"Hey, you're not one to talk, Professor."

"Indeed, probably not, but I'm older than you."

"Oh, Merlin... If you start using that line to try to win every argument—"

"But I can."

Hermione dramatically rolled her eyes and brought her lips to his forehead again, enjoying the sound of his heavy, warm breaths against her face, knowing_ she_ was the cause of such arousal. "I could get used to this," she confessed aloud at last, and her sweetness seemed to tug at the guarded man in front of her.

"So could I." Severus's face turned sour. "I should still stop this though."

"But you won't."

"When you smile at me like _that_, you make it exceedingly difficult."

"Then I'll be sure to keep doing it."

Severus paused to brush at her wild mane, twirling the strands around his fingers, relishing the texture—so soft, and yet, untamed. "I - I can't make any promises, Hermione..."

Hermione's smile lessened, the gravity of their situation bringing her back to reality for a moment. "I know you can't, Severus. I don't know what's going to happen, or where this might lead but I'm willing to try, if you are?"

Every thought rummaging through Severus's mind told him to cease, to give up, to reject Hermione now and make it easier on both of them. She shouldn't be pulled into his world; it would only put her in harm's way, and she was already in danger, without even knowing it...

_Stop this, Severus. Now. This is madness. You can't do this to her. This is a fancy; it'll pass. She will leave you, and you'll both end up hurt._

_And there's Lily. Lily... Whatever about Lily?_

"Severus?"

Severus regained his focus, aware of Hermione's visibly nervous twitching. "I don't want to hurt you, Hermione," he answered solemnly, overrun by the soothing caress of her palm on his cheek.

"You aren't hurting me, Severus."

"But I - I will."

Hermione reared back a little but didn't remove her hand. "What makes you say that?"

Severus's charcoal-colored eyes saddened as he stared up at her. "Because I ultimately hurt and disappoint everyone. I don't want to do the same to you. I don't want to hurt you, too..."

"Oh, Severus," Hermione soberly shook her head, "I have faith that you won't. And you _don't_ disappointment me. How will we know where this can go if you're not willing to try? Please?"

There was a hint of desperation in Hermione's voice that brought Severus to a standstill. It was almost childlike, but it was also the sincerest gesture he had ever received in his life. She really _did_ want to try; she really _did_ want to be with _him_. The concept that someone could actually be in want of him was so overpowering that it left Severus bereft of words. He grunted and tried to regain his usual monotone voice, but this time with the intent of ignoring the warnings still berating him in his head.

"Very well."

Hermione's face lit up, taking all of Severus's reservations with it, if only temporarily. "You mean it?"

Gazing up at the beautiful witch on top of him, there was no denying his deeply-held regard any longer. He brushed her cheek thoughtfully, surveying her radiance with a gratitude he couldn't possibly put into words.

"Yes, I do."

And to Severus Snape's own astonishment, he really_ did_ mean it.

* * *

**A/N #2: So, things are good. For now.**


	24. The Half Blood Prince

**Important Note: As a head's up, this chapter contains content about Peter Pettigrew. I'll reserve my explanation for the angle I've taken at the end.  
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**As an additional note, this is also the longest chapter in the story so far. Lots of content to sink your teeth into. Enjoy!  
**

******_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 24: The Half-Blood Prince**

As far as Hermione could tell, and if she were to base anything that was happening on her feelings alone, things were progressing well. Her only disappointment was that she couldn't share her elation with anyone. And it was just that: _she was extremely happy_; blissful even.

The only hurdle standing in Hermione's way was mustering up the courage to confess about Ron. She hadn't told Severus that they dated for a very brief time following their outing to The Three Broomsticks. And kissing Severus when she had just started dating her friend never sat well with her, despite how _right_ her feelings for the professor felt, at least, to her.

Therefore, one evening as they worked on another concoction of Severus's research for a superior anti-venom potion, she blurted it out ridiculously fast and braced herself, praying he wouldn't take it too badly. She also made a point of mentioning how quickly they broke up, too, hoping that might soften the blow. She was shell shocked at how the sensitive wizard took the news.

Severus snorted and rolled his eyes dramatically, giving her a strange, all-knowing smirk she didn't quite understand. "Hermione, you told me that night following your little detention-warranted, dinner escapade that he asked you out, remember?"

"So?" she prodded, confused.

"Shouldn't that have been an indication, especially after I shot you down? I can put two-and-two together, you know."

"Oh..."

Severus arched an eyebrow as he cast ingredients into the bubbling cauldron. "So what is it?"

"Only that I've kissed you and confessed my feelings but didn't tell you about Ron..."

"You assumed that I haven't known, Hermione."

"Well... What?"

"Obviously, I _have_ known about the two of you, and haven't asked you about it, have I?"

"Yes, well..." Hermione raised her own eyebrow and gave him a skeptical regard. "You mean to tell me you've known and didn't care?"

Severus gave another defiant snort. "I figured you wouldn't be able to stomach that brainless prat too long." Then he added more quietly, his cheeks glowing, "I simply hoped you'd come to your senses, sooner rather than later..."

Hermione stared at him for a long moment, and then shook her head contentedly. She couldn't help but smile at his fresh self-consciousness. It made her stomach do somersaults.

"So you held out for me, did you?" she prompted happily.

"Don't flatter yourself." He quickly turned away from her to focus on their potion, but it was obvious he was trying to hide his humiliation at having his feelings called out.

Hermione's smile broadened. "That's really sweet, you know. In a twisted sort of way."

Severus snarled, though not abrasively, and Hermione burst into laughter. She certainly felt a lot better now that that was off her chest. Ron wasn't mentioned the rest of the evening, much to her relief, and, she suspected, Severus's as well.

After all, there was no denying any longer how Severus made her feel. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach whenever she first caught sight of him, let alone at the way he so often looked at her. Her breath would stall whenever he purred in that velvety voice either close to her face or next to her ears, and a simple brush of his hand against her own was enough to send her into fits of incessant smiling.

Hermione was spending virtually every evening now in Severus's company, and almost always in his office, their only place of refuge where both could be entirely themselves. There was more than one disturbance, however, during Hermione's evening visits, and a few close calls at that.

McGonagall stopped by on occasion, often unannounced, and Severus made a point of speaking to her outside of his office. He kept his wards up as an added precaution, but with Hermione coming by virtually every night, he heightened the enchantments; not that any wizard would have had a prayer of getting in anyhow.

"You _are_ paranoid," she teased him more than once, to which he merely rolled his eyes and ignored her.

Not that they were doing anything that would warrant a scolding, but catching the Gryffindor lying contentedly next to the Potions Master on the sofa in a too-friendly-to-be-strictly-friendly position, with her head either situated comfortably against his shoulder or on his lap and a hand intertwined in his, would have raised a few questionable eyebrows. Catching them snogging, too, would have been more than troublesome.

As Hermione spread herself out on the professor's couch one evening with a book propped up against her knees and Crookshanks reclined over her feet, purring softly with his eyes shut, her reading was momentarily interrupted by a question from Severus.

"What do Potter and Weasley think you're doing every evening that you come here?"

Hermione casually turned her head. Severus had several books of his own spread out over his desk as he jotted notes onto a weathered piece of parchment; he paused to hear what her answer would be.

"The library," she answered with a playful grin that made his heart flutter. She may not have known the power she now held over him, but it was increasing, nonetheless.

Severus arched an eyebrow. "_Every night?_"

"Is that really so hard to believe? I _do_ have a habit of spending an awful lot of time there."

"But not anymore?"

"Not in the evenings anymore, no."

Hermione extended her grin before returning to her reading material, thinking Severus was finished conversing for the time being. The long periods of silence that often passed between them were now comfortable and expected. They could be in a room together for an hour or two without speaking a word, then address one another as if there hadn't been any lapse in conversation whatsoever. Hermione found it quite nice and relaxing, and not something she could do too often with the boys, least of all Ron.

"Why did you start coming here so often?"

Hermione turned her attention to the dark wizard seated near the crackling fireplace, his silhouette outlined by the engulfing flames. Her brow wrinkled as she observed him. His expression was soft, but there was an evident intrigue in those charcoal-colored eyes that mesmerized like always.

"Because I found you interesting."

"Interesting?" he repeated, not at all convinced. "Even after how I treated you?"

"You're nasty to everyone, Severus. I hardly saw your treatment towards me as discriminatory."

Severus was frowning, and the groove that formed between his eyebrows marked his confusion. "Even after what I said to you in the library?"

Hermione considered his question thoughtfully. He almost seemed to regret having asked, and Hermione found his small bouts of apprehension and uncertainty more and more captivating. She knew he would find that embarrassing rather than sweet if she told him so, so she mused over it for herself alone.

"Yes, even after what you said to me in the library."

A few stark hairs fell forward, into his eyes. "I don't understand," he confessed quietly. "I was very unkind to you, Hermione. Why?"

Hermione slowly closed her book and scooted her feet carefully away from Crookshanks, who simply turned his furry head to eye his mistress. She sat up and gazed at him head on, and then shook her massive curls ever so gently.

"I've never taken you at face value, Severus. I try not to judge people by what lies on the surface, least of all _you_. You've never disguised how complicated you are. Harry and Ron don't want to acknowledge that there's more to you than meets the eye. They'd prefer to think you spiteful and bitter and without a glimmer of humanity beneath. I suspect most people haven't bothered to find out who you_ truly_ are or considered the possibility that you aren't just a miserable hermit. But it isn't all that hard to see that there's _more_ to you than that."

"That still doesn't answer my question."

Hermione waited a moment before rising from the couch to go to Severus's side. He leaned back and stared up at her, confirming from such a close proximity that he still didn't quite believe the answer she had given him.

Hermione smiled warmly and situated herself on his lap with ease, happy when he willingly wrapped his arms around her and swaddled her against his chest, as if he expected her to change her mind and get up.

"Because I'm a glutton for verbal abuse," she teased.

"That's not funny."

Hermione giggled at his severe scowl and nuzzled close, her kind eyes momentarily leaving his to admire the buttons along his frock coat. Her fingers absently circled them as her mind drifted. Her silence and expression made Severus's brow furrow.

"Because I rather enjoy these buttons," she murmured in a seductive tone that brought a ferocious sensation that shot straight to Severus's groin.

"Evil witch," he smirked, catching his breath.

Hermione leaned in and kissed him. She felt Severus tense and his fingers dig into her lower back as he brought her closer, evidently desiring nothing more than to deepen the kiss. When they both pulled back, their mouths lingered, practically touching, as neither really wanted to stop, but Hermione still hadn't addressed his question, and she could tell he was desperately in need of some reassurance.

"All right then," she paused momentarily. "I admire you."

The crease between Severus's eyes deepened. "Pardon?"

"Is that so hard to believe, Severus?" she tittered lightly.

"Of course it is."

There was a twinge of frustration in his reply that Hermione found endearing. He really hated being confused; and having anyone know it, for that matter.

"Don't let what I'm about to tell you go to your head, but it's actually relatively _easy_ to admire you. You're a brilliant wizard, Severus. We all know it, even if you frighten the hell out of everyone.

"Your skills, your reflexes, and your particular, powerful brand of magic are galvanizing to anyone who pays any ounce of attention. I really don't know another wizard, besides perhaps Dumbledore, who possesses _your_ level of talent and extensive knowledge, and I don't think anyone else does either.

"I still remember vividly when you took on Lockhart in my second year. He may have been completely inept, but I've never seen anyone duel so fast, or conjure the kind of force you showed behind your incantation. It was admittedly pretty frightening to me at the time...

"And you're smart, Severus, immensely smart; someone who can most certainly feed _my_ intellectual curiosity. No one else comes close. That's half the reason I always came to you for extra credit: because you always _challenged_ me. Any of the other professors gave me assignments I could handle easily enough. _You_, on the other hand, presented me with much harder trials, and I realize now that that helped me more than I ever thought it would.

"I love how avid a reader you are, too, and how you're constantly expanding your knowledge. C'mon, Severus. Why wouldn't someone like me be impressed by all that?" She traced one of his high cheekbones with her index finger, giving him a pretty, wry smile. "Or not find you attractive?"

Severus didn't answer right away. He was legitimately taken aback by her praises, and hardly accustomed to such positivity, especially when it was about him. No one ever complimented him, and no one ever _admired_ him, for that matter. No, she must be out of her mind...

"I'm sorry," he whispered rather painfully after looking her over, reading her expression as genuine, "I still don't quite understand..."

Hermione sighed and shook her head. She leaned in and kissed the tip of Severus's pointed nose, a small act that he deeply appreciated, and nestled her own against his. "You're adorable when you're confused," she professed, unwilling to stop herself from sharing her observations this time.

A heat trickled from Severus's neck up to his normally ashen cheeks, and he growled at becoming so visibly affected by her. "I'm _not_ adorable, Hermione. That term will never apply to me."

"Yes, it will, and it does."

"Am not."

"I'll be the judge of how attractive you are, Severus, seeing as your self-esteem is about as high as Flitwick."

"You're just deranged, know-it-all."

"Thanks for returning my compliments."

"Isn't the fact that I can't understand how someone like _you_ could find anything remotely attractive in someone like _me_ enough of a compliment?"

"You're terrible at this, you know that?"

"That shouldn't be a surprise for someone as clever as you, witch."

"Cut it out."

"It's true," he returned stubbornly. Hermione knew she would never win; not tonight, anyhow.

Hermione sighed again, but in defeat, and placed a tender kiss on the wizard's cheek. _Her wizard._ Could she even think so at this point? Was it too early to make that assumption? She couldn't help but wonder if the same consideration weighed on Severus at all, too.

"I hate how little you think of yourself," she said, almost in the form of a moan. "I understand where it comes from, but I still hate it. You're not at all the monster or ugly brute you think you are, Severus. I wish you'd believe me."

_You have no idea how wrong you are._ Severus swallowed hard, finding it suddenly difficult to stare into those heartfelt eyes of hers, filled with affection he couldn't make any sense of.

"I don't deserve your affections," he alleged in a soft whisper, acknowledging his own sadness for her to see.

"See, this is what I mean. Why do you say things like that, Severus? It's infuriating!"

"Because you deserve better, Hermione. You're worthy of so much more than _this_..."

Hermione pouted and brought him firmly into her hold, gripping him as tightly as she could. He didn't protest her possessiveness, which was a relief, but his expression was still severely self-critical and, to Hermione, agonizing to look at.

"Stop it," she ordered, running a hand through his tresses and hearing the shattered sigh this small act brought. "I won't talk to you about how I feel any more if you're just going to rebut everything I say."

Severus seized her hand and clutched it to his chest, against his buttons which now drove her mad. "Hermione, please try to understand, this is all very difficult for me to grasp. No one has ever expressed any sort of interest in me the way you have. _No one._"

"Really? What about Lily?"

Severus's eyes narrowed, and she almost expected to him to become cross with her, but he didn't. Rather, he was sour as his eyes grew reflective.

"No, she never expressed a romantic interest. I was only a friend, and even then, once we started at Hogwarts, I question whether we were ever truly best friends at all..."

"I'm sorry, Severus."

"Don't be. You treat your friends as they should be treated: with kindness and respect. Mind you, Potter and Weasley are hardly deserving of it, but you're a good person, Hermione; that's obvious. You treat those you care about far better than Lily ever treated me. You needn't feel bad."

"And the Marauders?" Hermione chanced asking.

Several sharp lines formed at the edges of Severus's mouth. "What about them?"

"Did she ever stand up for you? I - I would imagine there were many more incidents of abuse than the one Harry saw..."

Severus's eyes were about as dark as they could possibly be. For a second, Hermione was almost frightened, but when he spoke, it was all reflective, tasted entirely of bitterness, and none of it was meant for her.

"Yes, there were many instances with the Marauders. Lily stood up against them a few times, but very selectively, and if Potter were at all truthful with you about the memory he saw last year in my Pensieve, he would have told you this: Lily may have come to my defense that day, but I still caught that subtle smile of amusement on her face when I was hung upside down and exposed for everyone to see.

"I was an embarrassment to her by that point. She rarely ever chanced being seen with me, and I'm fully aware that even_ she_ found at least some minor entertainment later on in Potter's and Black's continued bullying.

"I gave it back to them whenever possible, so I am partially at fault, and for my own actions, they are just that. Lily wasn't the loyal friend I thought she'd be. In the end, when push came to shove, she sided with them over me, and didn't put much effort in dissuading them from going after me whenever they saw fit to after she disowned me as a friend."

"Why didn't she forgive you?" It was more of an angry statement than a question, and one that made very little sense to her. "We all slip up and say things we don't mean. I've been on the receiving end of being called a Mudblood many ti—"

"Don't use that word!" Severus snapped, causing her to jump in his arms. "Don't say it! I don't want to hear it!"

"Severus—"

"_Don't._ It's vile and cruel, Hermione. I won't hear anyone use it except those that I'm forced to hear it from, and certainly not you."

Hermione scanned him quietly, befuddled by his outburst, until it hit her. "You haven't forgiven yourself, have you?" Severus blinked, and his colorless, expressive eyes began to harden. "Severus, you _have_ to forgive yourself for that. It was one time. It was one incident—"

"And how would you know?"

Hermione despised how cold his demeanor had grown in a matter of seconds. "Because I'm capable of inferring a thing or two correctly about you, and if she meant as much to you as is to be believed, and if you hate the term as much as you claim, you would never have used it again unless, as you say, you were _forced_ to say it."

"Don't tell me to forgive myself. You have no right."

His voice was surprisingly unsteady, and he suddenly appeared highly self-critical again and run down. He buried his remorse behind his hair and turned away from her. Hermione, however, grabbed hold of his chin and forced him to look at her.

"Severus, that was how many years ago? I know what happened to the Potters was horrible, and must have been excruciating for you considering how much Lily still meant to you, but that's no excuse for hating yourself this much. And I, for one, cannot stand how much power you still give to a dead woman who never saw fit to forgive you for one slip of the tongue!"

"Hermione, I've told you before, there's much more to it than that."

Hermione surveyed him tentatively. "Can you tell me?"

"I... I'm not sure that I can."

"If you're worried that I'll tell Harry—"

"He's your best friend, Hermione. You might be tempted to, especially if you knew what it was."

"Severus..."

"If I tell you, Hermione, you must swear to me _not_ to tell Potter. He despises me enough as it is, not that I particularly care, but there are still things he'll need to know—_from me_—and I can't have another resentment of his hanging over my head. It'll just make things more difficult for me than they already are. I have enough to deal with. I can't have any more of it weighing down on me."

Hermione's eyebrows tapered at this fresh bit of news. "What things do you need to tell Harry?"

"One question at a time."

Hermione pouted but didn't retort. She waited, mindful that he was trying to formulate his response carefully before deciding to tell her whatever specifics he thought appropriate. He reached around her back and shifted her closer to him, which she willfully allowed. Her fingers unconsciously began to circle a few of his buttons again, only this time near his cravat; it would have brought a pleasurable smile to Severus's face if what he was about to share didn't weigh so heavily on his heart, and had for a very long time.

"It's my fault that the Potters are dead."

Hermione stared at Severus without blinking. Everything had suddenly come to a screeching halt.

"What?" she breathed, stunned.

Severus's reserve unnerved her as he continued, "While I was still working for the Dark Lord, and before I permanently switched sides, I purposely eavesdropped on a conversation between Dumbledore and Trelawney at the Hog's Head Inn. She was interviewing for the Divination post at the time.

"In the midst of the interview, she prophesied that a child would be born at the end of July who would vanquish the Dark Lord, and of those who had thrice defied him. I didn't know of whom she spoke of at the time; I didn't know it was the Potters. I should have known, and I'm a ruddy fool for not considering them as a possibility.

"While I was listening to their conversation, the bartender discovered me, and my opportunity to hear the conversation in full was lost. I was thrown out. Naturally, I reported what I'd heard to the Dark Lord. I was fearful of him, but I still had this sick, insane desire to please him. Merlin knows why...

"Being a Death Eater still felt like the only place I belonged; perhaps my only option in life to become something greater than myself. I didn't have a sense of belonging anywhere else, so I stayed, and I spied for him and told him the Prophecy, hoping it would bring me higher within his favor, and it worked.

"I never expected him to decide that the Prophecy was about the Potters; if I'd gathered that knowledge on my own—and if I hadn't been such an ignorant arse—I'd have never told him.

"I tried to dissuade him. I tried to bring him around to the idea that it could have very well been the Longbottoms, but his mind was made up. I'm sure you think this all sounds quite sickening and selfish of me, to have told the Dark Lord to go after the Longbottoms rather than the Potters. But I... I cared about Lily, even though she hated me by then and would probably never have forgiven me, even had she lived, and I was concerned for her safety.

"As soon as I realized he intended to go after her, I went to Dumbledore and begged him to spare her life, to do anything within his power to keep the Potters safe, and that I'd do whatever he wanted in return. It was then that I switched alliances and became a double agent.

"It all ended up being for naught, however, as you well know. The Potters went into hiding, and the Dark Lord discovered their whereabouts. We all thought it was Black, of course, but you know that's no longer true. I still sense it must have been someone close to them that gave them up, perhaps to spare their own lives. But the Dark Lord killed Lily. And I was the one who later discovered her..."

Severus's voice tailed off, and he didn't speak again. There was a mist in his black eyes, and he now wore an expression of terrible forlornness and agony. His pain made Hermione's own far more acute. It was then that she realized that there were tears in her own eyes, and that she was on the verge of crying as well.

A part of her was not only devastated for him but shocked. _He doesn't know about Pettigrew. Merlin, all this time, he's never known it was him..._

Hermione never expected to hear all this; to learn that Severus had inadvertently given up the Potters to Voldemort. _If Harry knew_, she considered for a fleeting moment before wiping her eyes, and giving the dark wizard her undivided attention.

"Severus, you didn't know..."

At this, however, Severus cringed in disagreement. "It doesn't change what I did, Hermione. You cannot make excuses for what happened. I reported the Prophecy. If I hadn't—if I had stopped to think for just one bloody moment—Lily, she'd..." A muscle twitched in his cheek. "She'd still be alive."

"You don't know that for certain, Severus. You can't possibly know that for sure."

Severus turned away from her, absently looking at nothing in particular, but his gaze was far away. Hermione reached out and delicately wove a few strands behind his ear. His eyes fluttered and came back to her, but his expression was unchanged.

"You were young and naïve, yes, and you said yourself that you were sickened by being a member of Voldemort's circle. I think you _would_ have gotten out of that hellhole eventually, regardless if there was a prophecy about Harry or not. You are inherently a good person, Severus, even if you don't believe it yourself. _I know you are._ You would have become a double agent anyhow.

"Lily was the push you needed to switch sides, but I think, even without what you heard and consequently did, you'd have found your way out of the darkness on your own. I know you would have, Severus."

"What does that have to do with—"

"_Everything_," Hermione emphasized, as she continued to run her fingers through his hair, reading his face as best she could. "You tried to save her, Severus. He would have discovered the Prophecy eventually—perhaps in a different way—or maybe not at all, but I think we both can safely assume that he'd still have gone after the Potters regardless. They'd refused him, so it was only a matter of time.

"There isn't any more you could have done, Severus. You can't beat yourself up over this. What's done is done; you can't change it."

She knew he wasn't convinced, which ruffled her considerably. He gave a dejected scowl and narrowed his eyes at her.

"I killed her, Hermione. Have you heard anything I just told you? _I killed her._ I'm responsible for killing your best friend's mother and leaving him orphaned and alone. Doesn't that disgust you at all?"

Hermione eyed him seriously before she inclined forward to place an affirmative kiss on his lips that left him speechless. It served as her answer. Severus tried to utter her name, to push her away even, but was quickly overpowered. Though his actions repulsed him, Severus allowed Hermione to kiss him again, to weave her fingers through his hair and pull him into her world, into the very essence of her and all that was wholesome and good.

When their lips parted, Hermione stared hard into Severus's dazed eyes and didn't back away, instead keeping her face very close to his. "You did _not_ kill Lily Potter. Do you hear me, Severus? If it takes me a lifetime to embed that reality into your thick skull, I'll do so. You can say you had a hand in the matter, and that is very well true, but the outcome would_ still_ be the outcome that it was. Harry _is_ the Chosen One, and he was always destined to be so, as painful as that is for me to say...

"Severus, we all make mistakes—some greater and more damaging than others—but anyone who is a decent human being is entitled to forgiveness. You_ need_ to forgive yourself. That's not something I can give you; it can only come from you. But if there's any way I can help you to forgive yourself and move on, then I'll do it. I'll keep reiterating the truth until you want to curse me into the next life. I'll keep repeating that you didn't kill Lily, and that you deserved to be forgiven by her for your transgression, because_ that's the truth_. And there's absolutely no valid reason—none whatsoever—for continuing to torture yourself over two mistakes you made in your whole life."

By the time she had finished making her opinions known, Severus's hands were trembling on her back, and Hermione carefully brought him to her in one delicate tug, folding her arms around his neck. She felt him bury himself into the nape of her neck, masking his face within her thick, chestnut curls. He didn't cry, he didn't retort, he didn't say anything; he simply held onto her and shook for an extended period of time.

Hermione had no idea if this was an improvement, or how long it might take Severus to move past the pain of what he couldn't take back, but he was more damaged than even she had originally considered. As his body trembled against hers, Hermione allowed herself to hope that somehow—just maybe—once this war ended, and they had all the time in the world, that she could help put the emotionally tattered wizard back together again. Perhaps even give him a happier life, if she dared to think they might have a future together. It might prove to be something, she hoped, worth sticking around for...

Hermione knew something else that needed to be done: Severus had to know about Peter Pettigrew. For a brief moment, she considered asking Harry's permission, but that was foolish. Harry would only question why, and it would just lead to more complications. There was nothing wrong with telling him anyhow, was there?

_Not now, Hermione. Wait. This isn't the right moment._

It was a feat Hermione reflected upon as they sat together in that quiet embrace, holding steadfast to each other as the fireplace roared and kept them warm. Outside, beyond the castle walls, the world continued to darken around them.

* * *

"Harry, why do you sleep with that under your pillow? You're completely obsessed with it."

Harry shot Hermione an offended look. "I am not, 'Mione!"

"Yes, you are!"

Harry mumbled something she couldn't hear as they made their way to the greenhouses for Herbology. "Any luck with Ron?" he asked, diverting from the subject.

"Of course not. He'll talk to you again before he'll ever speak to me."

It had been weeks since the fight in the common room, and Ron still hadn't budged or communicated with either of them. What made that reality less painful for Hermione was remembering how well matters were going between Severus and her. Progress was slow but steady.

_Progress? Who are you kidding, Hermione? You're falling for him..._

Hermione suddenly stopped walking, and Harry nearly tripped over his feet as he spun around to see what was keeping her. "'Mione? Something wrong?"

"Um, no, sorry; I was just thinking."

"About what?"

_You'd keel over dead if I told you, or ride me off first..._

"Just about how school's almost over; term went fast this year, didn't it?"

Harry gave her a suspicious, sidelong glance. "_That's_ what you were thinking about?"

"Leave it alone, Harry, please!"

"Erm, all right." Harry adjusted his glasses but said nothing else, though his curiosity had heightened.

Ron ignored them in Herbology as usual, just as he did in every other subject they shared, grumbling under his breath, with what had become a permanent, unattractive scowl etched across his mouth. At the end of Herbology, Hermione decided she would risk an earlier visit to Severus than usual and was just heading off towards the D.A.D.A. classroom when Harry inquired after her.

"Where you going?"

"Oh! Um, I have to ask Professor Snape a question about our essays. Two of my sources contradict each other, and I'd like Snape's opinion."

_You're getting a little too good at this, Hermione..._

"Opinion?" Harry ogled Hermione as if she had turned into a Grindylow.

Hermione did her best not to glare. "Yes. Why not? The man's smart, Harry, and personally, I'd prefer to do well than to let this go."

"Yeah, but..."

"But what?"

Hermione braced herself, prepared for some misapprehended remark from her best friend. Harry and literally everyone else were complaining about the D.A.D.A. professor as much as ever, and it was never in a friendly manner or with any ounce of respect or understanding. Even without knowing the intricate details, Hermione understood the gravity of Severus's dangerous situation. When he had opened up to her just weeks ago, it was written all over his face.

_If only they knew what he's doing; what he's up against. If only Harry knew the truth..._

"Erm, you two seem to be getting along really well?"

Hermione abruptly stopped walking again; panic was creeping to the surface, but she took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, except..."

"_What_, Harry?"

"You seem to be kind of, um, well, fond of him."

"Fond?" Hermione crinkled her nose.

_How the hell did Harry figure that out? Bugger!_

"Sorry," Harry apologized, looking rather squeamish, "that sounds really disgusting, I know, but, um, well..."

"Actually it - it's not disgusting, per say..."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying you think Snape's _decent_ looking?"

Hermione knew her face had turned bright red. She could feel the burn on her cheeks. _Oh, bugger! Hermione! Shut up!_

"Not exactly. Only, Harry, he's actually not such a bad person."

Harry's face went from jolly to sour in an instant. "Speak for yourself."

"Harry—"

"Forget about it. If you're going to see him, don't forget to ask him about the Half-Blood Prince, all right?"

"Oh! Right..."

"But don't mention I have the book, 'Mione! If Snape finds out—"

"Harry, I wouldn't rat on you, all right?"

Harry flashed her a playful grin again. "Yeah, well, even so." He wandered away from her and into the herd of students making their way to their common rooms or their next classes. "See you later!"

"See you!"

Hermione turned away to D.A.D.A., taking the time to stroll and wander as the corridors leading her to that part of the castle were near empty. Here, she let her mind wander.

She had forgotten to ask Severus about the Half-Blood Prince, particularly in the midst of everything _else_ developing between them. She should probably have been more alarmed, anxious, even leery of Severus's intentions, but somehow, somewhere, in the back of her mind, Hermione trusted him more than she ever had. The more she got to know him, the more she realized just how deeply misunderstood he was. Her perception of him had been quite off, but Harry's, Ron's, and the rest of the school's was even worse.

It dampened Hermione's spirits, knowing Severus was, for the most part, hated by all, and yet, no one had bothered to get to know him for nearly all of his life. No one had taken the time to read past the introduction or throw back the veil to what really lied beneath the surface: a human being, a real person, a vulnerable man who just needed a little more care and patience to get to know.

Hermione was greeted at the door by Crookshanks. "Well, well. I see you're in need of a visit, too, Crooks?"

Crookshanks meowed in agreement, so Hermione heaved the door open and walked in with the feline at her feet. She was a bit taken aback to find Severus pacing back and forth, agitated and clearly out of sorts. He didn't look up when she entered, but Hermione knew he was well aware of her presence. He was lithe and quick as a cat himself and would have jumped on her before she could get the door completely open if he suspected her of being anyone else.

"Severus?" She walked to the front of the room where he was striding to and fro with his hands behind his back, wearing a profound grimace that spread to his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Severus blinked in her direction but kept up his relentless pacing, breathing a heavy sigh or two before running his elegant fingers through his hair. He stopped mid-pace, opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it and closed his mouth again.

_Now he wants to move up his plans. And there will be no persuading him otherwise. Damn it, Severus, why didn't you start to come up with a solution sooner? Albus doesn't care! He thinks you'll simply be able to weasel her out of this. He has no idea! Not a bloody clue! The selfish bastard! Damn it, what am I going to do now?_

"_SEVERUS!_"

Severus abruptly halted and stared at Hermione. Her frantic eyes brought him back to reality, and he quickly gathered that his hands were shaking quite violently at his sides. Even his legs were threatening to give way.

"What on earth is wrong?" Hermione asked, reaching out to grab him by the arm.

_You can't tell her, Severus. You simply can't. Not until you have something in place._

"I - I can't tell you."

Hermione frowned, unconvinced. "Severus, you're clearly distraught. What's going on?"

"Hermione, don't push me," he warned, his voice low and strained.

Hermione reared back, looking him over carefully. Severus could sense the wheels turning behind her eyes, wanting to make sense of his strange behavior. He wanted to tell her; he wanted to wake up from this nightmare, but it wasn't to be.

"All right... Well, why don't you sit down, at the very least?"

"I— Yes, very well."

Severus stalked to his desk and slunk down into his chair, placing his elbows over his rolls of parchment to sit his chin in his hands. He stared at a harsh, hovering candle nearby and wouldn't meet Hermione's troubled gaze as she came to join him.

"You're going strange on me again."

"What?" Severus grunted, realizing how peculiar he must appear, and took to adjusting his cravat. "My apologizes. What are you doing here so early?"

"You don't sound happy to see me."

"I never am."

"Liar."

Severus finally relaxed his shoulders a little and gave her his dark smirk. "What do you want?"

Hermione angled her head. "I have a question to ask you about some research I've been doing."

"Oh? One of yours and Potter's new adventures into matters that don't concern you?"

Hermione ignored his commentary and propped herself up on his desk, crossing her arms to stare him down with a humorous smile. "I found a name written in a book but can't find a reference to it anywhere."

"Since when do you have time to research for leisure?"

"Your latest essay on ghosts was rather easy, Professor."

"_Easy?_" Severus hissed and narrowed his eyebrows. "In that case, I shall be sure to take extra measures in grading _your_ efforts, Miss Granger, if you find it so tediously elementary."

"Oh, come off it. You don't intimidate me anymore."

"I should."

"Why? Because you're morbidly unpleasant and wear black?"

"No, because of what I told you before." He paused to scrutinize Hermione's alluring features, still soft and unmoved despite his efforts to unhinge her. "You are an unusual person, Hermione."

"Unusual?" Hermione went bashful, but was also puzzled. "Is that your idea of a compliment?"

"I meant it as such."

"Well, that's something you need to work on." She paused, watching his eyes shift. "Are you sure it isn't something you can discuss?"

"No, it isn't, know-it-all."

"Stop that—"

"Hermione, I value your discretion, but I can't disclose everything to you. Please let it go."

"Very well." Hermione shifted her feet awkwardly, her disappointment readable.

"What is it you wanted to ask me?"

"Well, I've been trying to find some information on someone and so far have been out of luck..."

"You? Out of resources?" Severus snorted, and Hermione attempted to stare him down reproachfully but found the act difficult. "That seems very unlikely."

"Well, believe it."

"So why come to me?"

Hermione moved closer so that her thigh touched his. His tense reaction was expected, but then he relaxed nearly as quickly. Hermione reached out and lightly brushed a few straggly hairs away from Severus's eyes, watching as he closed them when her fingers made contact with his skin.

"Well, I thought perhaps you might have gone to school together," she whispered, drawing closer, "or perhaps you knew or heard of this person."

Severus's black lashes fluttered. "Because I'm much _older_ than you, yes?"

"Don't be fresh."

"Then don't insult me," he growled back, but Hermione didn't take him seriously. She scooted onto his lap, feeling the warmth of his large hands as they wrapped themselves around her. "So who is it?" he asked.

It took every ounce of Hermione's composure not to shudder in bliss at that deep, silk-like purr. She smiled and delicately brought her lips to his, moving them gradually, basking in her newfound boldness. This was all so unlike her, but he was driving her insane, and she needed to taste him. She had been craving him all day.

"Hermione," Severus rasped, pulling away to catch his breath, though the dark smile he bore only egged her on, "what is this? What's going on?"

Hermione couldn't answer. Instead, she brought her mouth to his once more, slipping her tongue inside his mouth in earnest. A wonderful groan echoed at the back of Severus's throat, and Hermione reacted willingly.

The kisses intensified, and Hermione felt a rush of her own when the Potions Master's tongue entered her mouth. Hermione gasped, digging her fingers into his hair as she hauled him against her, into her, wanting to feel the warmth of his body.

She was lost; lost to whatever spell this was. It was marvelous, and burned from somewhere deep inside. And then it abruptly went cold. Severus's mouth tore away from hers, and Hermione's eyes were met with enlarged, black irises, heavy breathing, and a heat between her thighs that instantly made her blush. Severus's erection. It was fighting for release from his trousers, and she, too, was very much on fire, in desperate need of him. What would that be like?

Hermione was straddling Severus's lap with his hands gripping her arms, lugging her against him. A small amount of sweat had broken out on his forehead, and he looked just as shocked to find them in this position as she, and equally aroused.

"So much for asking questions," she breathed lightly, stifling a fit of giggles as she held onto a fist full of his buttons.

Luckily, Severus reacted readily and a delicious curl formed at the edges of his mouth. "You are more conniving a Gryffindor than I thought..."

"Oh, bollocks!"

"Hermione, we can't get caught like this..."

Hermione jerked. "Oh! Right."

Disappointed, she removed herself from her position on the professor's lap, trying to ignore his arousal that made her want to grin from ear to ear. She didn't think herself capable of provoking such an eager response from a man, but she certainly wanted more of it.

Severus remained seated and adjusted a few of the buttons along the front of his coat. "Now then," he cleared his throat, "this person you've been trying to find information on?"

"Yes... He goes by a peculiar name that I can't find a reference to anywhere." Hermione whipped her hair off her shoulder and gazed down at Severus curiously. "Do you know anyone who went by the title of the Half-Blood Prince?"

A sudden flash penetrated Severus's eyes, making her brow furrow. "What?" he asked rather dangerously, in a manner she couldn't account for.

"The Half-Blood Prince? You're familiar with the name?"

"What is this?"

Hermione tapered her eyebrows. "What's _what_, Severus?"

A heat rose in the center of his chest, and he tried to regain his self-composure, despite his surprise. "How do you know of that name?" he hissed with narrowed eyes.

"I..."

Severus shot to his feet, causing Hermione to stumble backwards against the edge of his desk. Crookshanks, too, rose from his comfortable repose and hissed, annoyed by the disruption.

"Hermione, what are you doing?"

"Severus, what—"

"_Answer me!_"

"Why are you getting yourself so worked up?"

Severus ran a trembling hand through his now damp tresses and exhaled heavily. "Answer my question, Hermione," he breathed more delicately. "How do you know of that name?"

"I - I saw it in a book."

"What book?"

Hermione panicked. She wasn't out to get Harry in trouble, and now she was finding herself unexpectedly backed into a corner.

"An old Potions text."

"Where is this book?"

"I - I don't know—"

Severus loomed over her with a glare that sent a shiver down Hermione's spine, and not in any sort of enticing manner. "I think you do."

"Severus! What the—"

"Professor Snape! PROFESSOR SNAPE!" came a first year's unsteady, frightened voice, forcing Severus to back away from Hermione fast.

The small student came charging through the doorway, panting and frantic, his blue eyes widened in alarm. He was clearly a Slytherin, but Hermione had no idea who he was.

"What is it?" Severus growled irritably.

"Please, sir! You have to come quick! Draco! He—"

The eerie howling of Moaning Myrtle's screams further alerted Severus and Hermione that something was terribly wrong. As Hermione passed around Severus's desk to follow him, Severus whipped his dark head around and stared her down defiantly.

"Stay here!" he demanded. Hermione opened her mouth to protest but swiftly thought better of it and stepped back.

Severus exited the room with the first year and the echoes of Myrtle's cries following them down the corridor. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and waited, her heart pounding.

_What just happened? What did I do to set him off like that?_

Hermione was just about to start pacing the floor when the resolution came to her promptly and without warning. "Merlin..." she murmured aloud, even though no one was around to hear. "Severus... He's the Half-Blood Prince..."

_Bloody brilliant, Hermione! Just brilliant. What the hell do I do now?_

Hermione started to rush towards the door, then backed away and turned around, trying to think fast. Her mind was on overdrive. She spun on her heel again to perhaps exit the classroom when the door flew open, and Harry came charging in with a most bewildered look. His face was a shade whiter than normal, and it made Hermione stop in her tracks.

"Harry!"

"'Mione!" he replied, his voice shaking.

"What's the matter?"

"I..."

"Harry?" Hermione touched his shoulder, and Harry moved away rather skittishly. "Harry, what's the matter?"

"Snape just took Draco to the hospital wing..."

"What happened?"

"I... It's my fault."

"What's your fault?"

"I hexed him."

"What?" Hermione's caramel irises expanded. "Why?"

"I - I used a spell from the book..."

Hermione forced herself to remain calm, remembering what she had only just discovered moments before. "What spell, Harry?"

"_Sectumsempra_. It said in the book that it was for enemies..."

Hermione grew leery but asked anyhow, "What does it do?"

"I - I didn't know it would do what it did, 'Mione! I didn't know! _Honest!_"

"It's all right, Harry, calm down. Just tell me."

"It caused all sorts of gashes to break out on Draco's face and body. He was bleeding really, really bad. There was blood and glass everywhere. If Snape hadn't gotten there in time, I -I think I might have..."

Hermione swallowed hard and guided Harry by the arm into a nearby desk chair. "Here, Harry, sit. I trust Snape told you to come here?"

"Yeah... 'Mione, I'm in for it now. I think I'm going to be expelled for this."

"Harry, don't say that. We'll figure something out. Just tell Snape about the book—"

"_No!_"

"Chances are he'll already know where you got the dark spell from anyhow."

Harry peered up at Hermione with skeptical green eyes. "What do you mean? You didn't tell him, did you?"

"I - I was sort of backed into a corner, Harry—"

"_'Mione!_"

"It's too late now! It's for the best, Harry, _honestly!_ Look what that ruddy book taught you to do!"

Harry didn't say anything else, nor did he have time to. Severus came charging through the door unannounced, his black robes billowing behind him as he entered with a most infuriated look. Hermione drew back, prepared for something dreadful.

"Potter!" he snapped, showing his teeth. He extended one elegant hand in front of the boy's face. "Hand it over. _Now!_"

Harry hesitated for only a moment before reaching into his bag to retrieve the tattered Potions text. Hermione watched Severus scrutinize it carefully, his colorless eyes focused and intense as his fingers rubbed at the worn cover, then whisked through the pages as she and Harry waited with bated breath.

Finally, after a minute or two, Severus stared down at Harry, who met his heated expression with equal disdain. "Detention, Potter. Every Saturday for the rest of the school year." Harry's jaw tightened, but he didn't fight the man's orders. Severus held up the book, looking from him to Hermione with suspicious intent. "How did you come by this book?"

"I... Um..."

"It was in the Potions lab, Professor," Hermione spoke up. "There were two textbooks left. Harry grabbed this one. He didn't know what it was at first—"

"Don't make excuses for him, Miss Granger."

"It's true," Harry spat.

"Then you should have turned it in immediately, Potter. Now your high scores in Potions are finally clear. You're not only simpleminded and arrogant, but you're also a cheat. How admirable."

"I'm not a cheat!" Harry exclaimed, but Severus loomed over him in a flash, leaving the boy with nowhere to go.

"You _are_ a cheat, Potter, and you will reap the consequences! Mr. Malfoy has sustained life-threatening injuries thanks to you! Your actions will not go unpunished, and you will not be allowed to continue Potions with this textbook in your possession, is that clear?"

Harry avoided eye contact, bringing his lips together sourly. "Yes, sir."

"Very well. I'll be informing McGonagall, Slughorn, and Dumbledore of your actions at first opportunity and let them decide the appropriate actions. Now go. I expect to see you at eight o'clock Saturday morning, Potter. Don't be late, or you'll regret it."

Harry didn't hesitate and flew out of the room as fast as his legs would carry him, leaving Hermione dumbfounded where she stood. It took a moment for her to gather that she was gawking at a closed doorway and by the time she made sense of her surroundings again, Severus had walked away. He was seated at his desk again, staring at nothing in particular, but looking quite put out and depleted of energy.

Hermione cautiously made her way over to him and gently touched his shoulder. Crookshanks pawed at Severus's left hand lying loosely on his desk, but Severus didn't move.

"Severus," Hermione whispered, taking a moment to bite her lip. "Are you..."

"What?"

Hermione lowered her voice. "You're the Half-Blood Prince, aren't you?"

There was an excruciatingly long pause before Severus finally answered, "Yes, I am."

"_You are?_"

"Yes." He peered up at her emotionlessly, with the blank stare that she was starting to despise. Only now she felt crushed and guilty.

"So that spell..."

"Yes, I came up with it."

"But - But _how?_"

"Too much time spent alone and thinking about how to get back at my father and my enemies at school. I've already told you this, Hermione."

"Yes, but a lot of those spells are..."

"Dark Magic? Of course they are. Why are you so shocked?"

"I - I guess I didn't know how deep your fascination into the Dark Arts went."

"You are having second thoughts about me then?"

His voice was remote but still hinted at a certain moroseness, and it pained Hermione to hear. "No, of course not!" she answered hastily, gripping his shoulder tight.

"Yes, you are."

"Look, Severus, I'm trying to make sense of all this—"

"You knew Potter had this book in his possession?"

Hermione hesitated and removed her grasp from his shoulder immediately. "Yes..."

"And you never saw fit to tell me or one of the other teachers?"

"I - I tried to get _Harry_ to do that, Severus. I wasn't going to rat on my best friend!"

"So you were just going to allow him to continue to cheat his way up to the top of your Advanced Potions class?"

"Severus, that isn't fair—"

"Don't speak to me about fairness!" he snarled, this time with an acidic tone Hermione was familiar with. "I'm disappointed, Hermione."

Severus threw the book down on his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. His words stung Hermione more than she expected, and she backed away quietly without issue.

"I - I'm sorry, Severus."

Not sure what else to say, and feeling more raw than she had for some time, Hermione turned to make her leave when she felt his cold hand snatch her wrist, pulling her back towards him. "Don't go."

"But—"

"Please stay. I... I apologize. I don't mean to take my anger out on you."

Hermione peered down into his harsh features. Anyone else wouldn't have detected the subtle sincerity in his voice or the small glimmer in his eyes, but Hermione saw it without falter. She allowed him to haul her back into his personal space and wrapped an arm around his neck.

"So you_ are_ the Half-Blood Prince then?" Hermione whispered, hardly able to grasp the concept. And yet, it somehow made perfect sense.

"Indeed."

"No wonder the handwriting was so familiar."

"I'm surprised you and Potter didn't pick up on it sooner."

Hermione gave a half smile and lazily ran her fingers along his scalp. Severus leaned into her hand and closed his eyes, willingly allowing the young woman to indulge him in her delicate caress.

"Did you plant that book in the Potions lab for Harry to find?"

Severus opened his eyes, the infamous crease forming between his eyebrows. "No, of course not."

"I believe you."

"You think it was planted?"

"I - I don't know... Seems rather coincidental though, don't you think?"

"Perhaps."

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Who's Eileen? Eileen Prince?"

Severus stared for a long while before gradually bringing Hermione's small hand brushing his hair into his grasp. He held it against his chest and stared intently. Hermione wanted to blush but was too busy not breathing for the time being.

"My mother," he answered, almost in a broken whisper.

"Eileen? That's her name?"

"Yes."

"And Prince?"

"It was my mother's maiden name. She came from a line of pureblood wizards. With my father being Muggle-born, it makes me a half-blood."

"I always assumed..."

"That I was a pureblood?"

Hermione nodded, and Severus's soft fingers came to rest along her jaw. "Most people are surprised to learn that. Most Slytherins _are_ purebloods, after all. I was an exception. And no one really knew about it unless I made it their business. I was mostly able to go about undetected."

"Did - Did you share their beliefs back then? I know you don't now, but did you at one time?"

Severus's gaze was serene but deploring, giving away his answer before it came. "Yes, I did, for a short time. My hatred of Muggle-borns stemmed from my father. Once he was gone, I didn't really see a point to my ignorant abhorrence any longer. Of course, I had to play along though. It was too late by then."

"I see..."

"Hermione, there's nothing wrong with being—"

"I know."

"Are you sure?"

Hermione reached up with her free hand to kiss the inside of Severus's palm. His heat was comforting against her lips.

"Yes, I do," she muttered quietly, giving him a soft smile. For a long time, they gazed at one another without speaking before Hermione finally broke the stillness, nodding towards the shabby book in plain sight. "What will you do with it?"

"Tuck it away. It's been in my family for a long time, and I lost sight of it years ago. I won't be so careless again."

"And the contents?"

"They are what they are, Hermione."

"Will Draco be all right?"

"I should hope so. I performed the same healing spell I used on your head. Hopefully the damage isn't irreversible..."

"Or you would be dead?" she completed his sentence quietly.

Severus stiffened. Hermione also went rigid but continued to clasp his hands. "So you know about that, too?"

It was more of a direct threat than a question, but Hermione gulped all the same. "Harry overheard you talking about an Unbreakable Vow before Christmas break..."

"I'm not surprised."

"Severus, please—"

"What else have you overheard, Hermione?"

"Nothing. That's all. I swear it."

"I hope you aren't lying to me."

"Severus—"

"Because I've trusted you."

"In the past tense?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"Severus, I'm not spying on you. I would have no legitimate reason for doing so."

Severus did his best not to snort. _I can think of several..._ He naturally kept that thought to himself.

"Very well."

"Are you angry with me?"

The timidity in Hermione's question was unmistakable, and Severus shook his head with a weighty sigh. "No, I'm not, but there are some things I wish you didn't know about."

"So you really _did_ take the Unbreakable Vow to protect Draco?"

"Yes..."

"From what?"

"_That_ I will not disclose to you, Hermione, so don't push me."

Hermione sighed, defeated. "All right."

"Anything else?"

"I... No... Just don't be too harsh on Harry, would you? We_ do_ still need him to defeat Voldemort at some point."

Severus gave her a wicked smirk that spread to his raven eyes. "With any luck, my dear, he may come up with some unknowable skill to defy us all."

"Don't be cruel, Severus."

"I'm the instructor. You don't call the shots."

Hermione glided her hand down Severus's buttons one by one, delighting in the feel of each individual fastening. "Yes, but I carry some very heavy-handed secrets about you now, Professor."

Hermione heard Severus hitch a breath as she drew her face close to his. "You should be more careful about who you meddle with, young witch."

"Says the snake being overwrought by his student."

"Who says I'm overwrought?"

"_I do_," Hermione hissed playfully before breaching Severus's lips with a kiss that left him stunned.

He easily succumbed, which only heightened Hermione's drive to delve further, but then Severus's firm hands pulled her back. "Hermione, we can't," he breathed excitedly.

Hermione pouted, disappointed. "But—"

"We can't."

Hermione's shoulders buckled, bringing her forehead to his. "This is so unfair."

"No more talk about fairness," Severus attempted to tease, grazing her lips with his fingers. "You need to get going. And take this fur ball with you."

"I have no control over him anymore."

"How unfortunate."

"Shut it. You don't mind him all that much, so quit your griping. I daresay he likes _you_ more than _me_ now, which is very worrisome."

"In that case, he's welcome to stay, but not you."

"Oh, so you're kicking me out, but my cat gets a reprieve?"

Severus bared his teeth, giving her a seductive smirk that all but sucked the very life out of her. "Yes," he purred, "that's right, know-it-all. Get lost."

* * *

"Severus?"

"That doesn't sound good."

"Come again?"

"The way you just said my name," Severus returned in his usual deep purr that drove Hermione crazy. He was hunched over his book as they sat outside on the quiet, secluded rooftop, wearing a provocative smirk.

Even though it was mid-May, the weather remained relatively cool, even with most of the snow now gone. Severus was perched against the wall, twirling his wand in between his fingers as he read. Hermione was grateful it was the weekend. She had spent virtually the entire day with Severus, and could only laugh about how her friends were probably wondering at this very moment where she was, and what the heck she was up to. Hermione had been telling them for quite some time now that, aside from extra credit, she was still researching the Half-Blood Prince, but she was starting to wonder how much longer she could get away with that excuse.

Hermione turned away from the ledge where she had been staring out at the Black Lake for some time, reminiscing on the past year. It had been such a whirlwind of surprises, many of them more wonderful than she ever could have imagined, and it made her smile as she reflected soundlessly whilst Severus read.

Hermione leaned against the ledge. She folded her arms over her chest and peered down at Severus several feet away, her tension mounting. She had been trying to work up the nerve to tell him about Pettigrew for over a week but knew it wouldn't be a pleasant conversation, and was fully prepared for Severus to shut down once the news came out. Hermione purposely waited all day, but it was no use avoiding the dreaded conversation any longer. He needed to know; he deserved to know _who_, in actuality, betrayed his one-time best friend and woman she was starting to sense might have meant more to him than that...

Hermione willed herself not to think on _that_ probability any further and bit her lip. "I need to tell you something..."

Severus gazed up casually from his book, his expression inscrutable, but Hermione knew he was much more interested than he appeared. He had inadvertently stopped twirling his wand.

"Yes?"

"It - It's about the person who told Voldemort where the Potters were hiding."

Hermione waited, witnessing the subtle alteration in Severus's eyes. They glimmered with heightened curiosity, and an inkling of trepidation.

"Oh?" he inquired far too casually. "What about it?"

Hermione bit her lip harder. "I - I know who it is..."

Her confession came out more like a painful whisper, almost as if she were ashamed. She waited again, not at all willing to rush this conversation, no matter how badly she wanted it to be over with.

Severus was slow in his response; or rather, contemplative. He tossed his book aside and propped up his knees, folding his hands over them with his wand still clutched in his grasp.

"Go on," he insisted, surveying her thoughtfully.

"Well, a few years ago, when we discovered Sirius in the Shrieking Shack... You remember?"

"I ended up being unconscious for most of that ridiculous escapade, but do continue."

"Um, well, Remus and Sirius told Harry who actually betrayed the Potters. Up until then, we'd all assumed it was Sirius, but as you already know, it wasn't actually him. The person who did it... He, himself, confessed to it. We all heard it." Severus's eyes narrowed, and Hermione knew he had figured the riddle out well before she answered. "It was Peter Pettigrew."

Severus's entire face darkened before her eyes, manifesting into something that almost bordered on savagery. She hesitated a moment longer before walking over to join him. She crouched down and placed her hands over his, rubbing them gently. His hands were clasping his wand as tightly as they could, his knuckles whitening as he tried to keep his temper under control. Hermione could see the inward wrestle of emotions, the wheels spinning behind the eyes.

"I'm sorry, Severus. I - I assumed you already knew. I would have told you a lot sooner if I was aware that you didn't know..."

Severus, however, didn't answer her. He stared—or glared, rather—past her towards the edge of the rooftop, his mind otherwise engaged. His mouth was pulled taut, his nostrils flaring with an inner fury and pain.

"I should have known," he managed through gritted teeth. "Pettigrew. _Of course_, Pettigrew! I should have known it was him."

"I... I guess Sirius or Dumbledore or no one ever told you?"

"Of course not!" he spat bitterly, causing her to wince. "Black wouldn't have shared a thing with me anyhow, nor would Lupin or the rest of the Order. They all despise me. I show up, I relay what I know or what I can offer, then I leave. And Albus... I would have thought _he'd_ at the very least..."

Severus shifted about on the ground and snarled, his face morphing into a mixture of anger, sorrow, and pain. Hermione bit her lip hard, hating to see him changing before her eyes.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked with caution, mindful of his dramatic mood swings, which she had become much more attuned to. Her thumbs stroked the back of his hands, and that seemed to bring his focus back to her.

"No," he grumbled, sounding alarmingly shattered.

It was enough to increase Hermione's concerns. "Should I not have told you?"

"No, you did the right thing." He inclined his head, his thick locks falling forward around his face, concealing the desolation in his eyes. "Thank you, Hermione..."

Hermione nodded, but his gratitude did little to ease her worry. "Do you want to be left alone?"

Severus blinked hard, and the tightness around his mouth softened, as did his gaze. "No. Please..." His appeal was almost childlike to her ears, and nearly broke her heart. "Stay?"

It was more than enough to make her concede. "All right." She continued to stroke his knuckles with her thumbs.

After a pause, Severus shifted his long legs and invited her into his fold. "Come," he whispered, motioning to her with his arms extended.

Hermione readily accepted and crawled in between his legs. She wove her arms around his torso and felt the familiar security of his arms bundle themselves around her. He placed his chin comfortably against the top of her wild curls and let out a prolonged sigh, either of content or misery, she wasn't sure.

For a time, there were hardly any noises, save for the natural sounds that echoed from the Forbidden Forest, or an occasional bird tweeting in a nearby tree, or the sound of each other's even breaths. Hermione rubbed her cheek against a few of Severus's buttons.

_Merlin, she loved those._ Lately, it had become quite tempting to rip them off, but completely inappropriate. _Bad timing, Hermione. Very bad timing. Get a grip._

"What are you thinking?" she murmured, breaking the stillness. She felt Severus's chin shift against the top of her head.

"About what I would have done had I known, and what I'd like to do to him now."

"Oh. Well, keep that thought to yourself." She was relieved to hear him chuckle, even if it was brief.

After another gentle silence passed between them, Severus whispered quite close to her ear, "I'm glad I have you..."

Hermione hadn't expected that. She opened her eyes and peered up at him. The look of contentment she found made her breath stall. He actually seemed calmer and more serene than she ever would have expected, swaddled against her with a most affectionate gaze meant exclusively for her.

Suddenly, the warm suppleness of his lips met her forehead, the contact both tender and sweet. "Thank you for telling me," he expressed again in his silk-like purr.

Hermione inadvertently shivered, which Severus took as an indication that she was somehow cold. He fastened his arms even more tightly around her and nuzzled his protruding nose against her forehead.

Hermione swirled her fingers around a few of his buttons, feeling much more reassured than she had hoped. The conversation had gone better than expected.

"Just don't go brooding on me later, all right?"

"What do you mean?"

"I_ know_ how you get, Severus."

"That easy now, is it?"

"Not necessarily, but you _do_ give yourself a rather hard time."

"I shall have to remedy that."

"If you're talking about how you badger and beat yourself up, then yes, that _is_ something that we'll have to work on. But if you're talking about trying to mask your feelings around me better, it won't work, so don't try."

There were an unexpected few more pecks to her brow, to the top of her head, and further nudging against her assortment of curls. Hermione smiled happily and leaned into him, enjoying his attentive coddling. She reared her head back to meet his lips. They explored each other's mouths again, just as they had countless times before, moving amorously in sync with one another.

For Hermione, it was sheer bliss, this continuous exploration of one another. Only she wanted more, desired greatly to delve much further, and it always seemed that Severus wanted to as well, but then he would pull back at some point, preventing them from going any further. She detested that.

As expected, Severus finally removed his lips from hers, feeling her excited breaths hot against his face. He pecked the top of her button nose, and received a giggled response from the witch that made his heart flutter.

Had he ever felt like this? Yes, he had loved Lily, but had he ever felt _this_ way with her?

"Merlin, you're beautiful," he confessed, not really aware of what he was saying until well after it was out in the open.

Hermione's reaction was to blush profusely. "Oh, rubbish." She prodded a few of his buttons and laughed, only now out of nerves.

"But you are, Hermione. You're very, _very_ beautiful..."

Hermione held her breath, her eyes soaking in the dark wizard as her mind tried to take in those few, chosen words. "Am I?" she managed after a time, inwardly filled with anticipation.

"_Yes_," Severus returned, his low rumble making her spine tingle.

Hermione's response was to shudder in his arms again, her breathing obstructed as Severus delicately perched his lips against her cheeks. They moved slowly, tenderly, around her face—touching every small freckle, every sensitive nerve—in an attempt to memorize the delectable contours of her countenance.

Whenever Severus momentarily stopped, he would repeat that wholesome declaration to her, and each time it made her insides dance. No one _ever_ told her she was beautiful. Sure, they would say she was smart, bossy, or annoying, but compliments were never given to her on how she_ looked_, and she certainly never expected the term 'beautiful' to apply to her.

But in that wonderful moment, as Severus's soft mouth mapped its way across her face, she couldn't help herself. _She believed him._ Yes, she _was_ beautiful. _He_ made her feel beautiful, and for the first time in her life.

"Let me return the favor," she said.

Hermione was rather enjoying this newfound Gryffindor boldness of hers, and she could tell Severus found it just as pleasurable and intriguing. Her hands gingerly slid up the front of his coat, making sure to massage the countless buttons that would most surely be her undoing one of these days. Her hands halted at his cravat, and her sly smile extended as she attempted to slowly pull it off.

But just as she did so, Severus's tranquil disposition changed. He reached up and pried her hands away, giving her a serious frown she didn't understand.

"There's nothing beneath there you want to see."

It took Hermione a moment to comprehend what he said. Her eyebrows came together, confused. "What do you mean?"

"My face is one thing, Hermione," he answered slowly, "my body—_this_—is another. You don't want to see it, trust me..."

"Bloody hell are you ever self-conscious," she blurted out before she could stop herself, giving him a reproachful stare that, to her surprise, made him laugh, albeit only a little.

"No, it's not _that_, Hermione. I know my body is hardly perfect. It's other matters, which I'm not ready to disclose to you just yet."

Hermione reared back and arched an eyebrow in the same way as he so often did. "All right, now you're starting to make me a little nervous... So what? Do you have a third nipple or something?"

The animated look he gave her followed by the eruption of guffawing as she had never heard before made her smile broaden. When Severus laughed—when he _really_ let himself go—it was an absolutely infatuating sight, not to mention glorious to the ears. The wrinkles that formed at the corners of his eyes and the way he threw his head back, letting out a deep guffaw that was both spirited and tantalizing, drove Hermione crazy. She loved it.

Once he was through laughing, Severus decidedly shook his head. "Merlin help me if I ever had such a problem." He nodded towards his coat. "This thing would never come off. _Ever_."

"Then what the hell are you insinuating?"

Severus teased her with another devilish smirk. "Sometime I'll let you see, but not now. I'm not ready to frighten you off just yet."

"You're infuriating. And I'm not going anywhere, so show me!"

"You're quite a demanding little lioness."

"And you're just figuring this out now?"

"Witch."

"Bastard. I don't like being toyed with, you know."

"I know," he hummed, his eyes twinkling in a rare form of contented satisfaction.

Hermione's pupils dilated. "You really _are_ a sod, Severus Snape."

Severus leaned forward until his nose practically touched hers. "And you're just figuring this out now?"

With that, he reached round and pulled her forcefully into his arms again, kissing her in earnest. Hermione tittered against his mouth at first but then gleefully submitted to his sensual caress, just as the sun finally disappeared behind the horizon.

* * *

**A/N #2****: For those interested, I decided to play the card that Severus _didn't_ know about Pettigrew's involvement in Lily's death for several reasons. 1). If Severus had known, I find it hard to believe - and I may be alone on this - that our cunning Potions Master wouldn't have found _some_ way to undermine the man or get him killed before the end of the war. He loved and adored Lily, and I think the knowledge of knowing who, in actuality, killed him would have been enough incentive for Severus to try something discretely, and without a direct hand in the matter. 2). I also have a very difficult time believing Severus would let Pettigrew take one step into his house if he'd known him to be Lily's traitor. Its just never made sense to me in hindsight, unless he _wasn't_ aware of the fact.  
**

**This is just my take, and yet, another debatable theme I'm weaving into this story.  
**

**We're very close to the end of _The Half-Blood Prince_...**


	25. To Know Thyself

**A/N: My apologies for the late update. I've been going through some personal matters that have made the act of writing difficult. I will try to get back onto my usual updating schedule.  
**

**Readers of the original _Unquestionable Love_ might recognize a scene or two that happen here. I've added to them, however, so they aren't merely a rehash of material. They've been extended.  
**

******_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 25: To Know Thyself**

"Severus..." said a soft, eerie voice he recognized, its owner emerging from a gloom-infested corner of what appeared to be some kind of rundown shack.

"My Lord," Severus replied with a quick bow of his black head before he stood up straighter, if that were possible, his arms laced behind his back.

He had been long prepared for Voldemort's orders. It was nearing the end of term, almost the beginning of June, and time was running out.

"I trust Draco is preparing himself for the task ahead?"

It was not a question. The Dark Lord circled Severus slowly, deliberately, in his long, dark robes that glided airily along the uneven floorboards. Nagini slithered at his side as usual, every so often raising her head to stare up at Severus curiously.

"The boy is preparing well enough, my Lord," Severus lied, shielding his mind to block Voldemort from detecting his fib.

"Well enough?" Lord Voldemort hissed, not at all happy with this news.

Severus, however, did not cower or flinch at his master's raised voice. "I continue to question his ability to carry out this task, my Lord, but I have confidence that, when the moment arrives, he may prove us all wrong."

"He _must_ go through with the plan, Severus. There will be no mercy for the Malfoy family if he doesn't..."

"I assure you, my Lord, if Draco is incapable of killing Professor Dumbledore, _I_ will handle the matter myself."

Severus had grown weary of this declaration months ago. Every time he repeated the proclamation to kill the Headmaster, it depleted his energy further, severing him limb by limb. If he could, he would have sunk into the floor and evaporated. But he couldn't.

"I trust you will, Severus... Dumbledore must be dealt with. And soon."

"He _will_ be dealt with," Severus asserted with the utmost composure, "and he will have no idea of what he's in for."

_If only that were true..._

"Yes..." Lord Voldemort hissed, lacing his fingers together with an evil smile lining his thin mouth. "You will perform the deed if the need arises?"

"Yes, my Lord," Severus replied without hesitation, repeating the words he had declared long ago. "I will kill Albus Dumbledore if I must. I will not fail you."

"Excellent. Bellatrix and the others will be entering Hogwarts as planned. I trust you to make yourself scarce; we don't want Dumbledore getting wind of the plan."

"He won't, my Lord."

"He'd better not." Severus stood silent, waiting respectfully for his master to continue. "I am most pleased with your efforts, Severus. You have proven yourself time and again to be one of my most trusted compatriots. I expect you to keep Bellatrix under control. She may _not_ harm Potter. Anyone else is fair game."

"I will do so, my Lord."

"Very well." He gave the professor his creepy, yellow-tainted, catlike grin; one Severus would never get used to, nor forget. "Next time I see you, there will be a new Headmaster at Hogwarts."

Severus returned the Dark Lord's elated smile; inside, his lungs were caving into his stomach. "Indeed, my Lord..."

* * *

"Severus? Are you all right?"

"No, of course not, Albus."

"You agreed."

"I know I did. That doesn't mean I have to respect your decision."

"I wish you would."

"Damn it, man! It's not _your_ soul that will be ripped apart by this! It's not you who will weather the aftermath of everything that will happen here. Consider yourself fortunate. I wish our roles were reversed. I wish it were me!"

"Don't say that, Severus. You are far more resilient than I. And that is saying something."

"Don't."

"It's true... I don't know of another wizard who can do what you can do, nor another who will endure what you will to protect Harry. I'm counting on you, Severus. We all are."

"That's because I was never given the chance to refuse!"

"Ahhh, but you were, Severus. You _did_ choose. And you chose correctly."

"No politics, Albus—"

"Only truth."

Severus and Dumbledore stared at each other across the small gap that divided them in the Headmaster's office. A brilliant moon shone through one of the tall glass windows, trickling a strange, bluish light down into the center of the room. Only a handful of candles were lit, but the space was mostly engulfed in shadow, illustrating to the two powerful men in the room the gravity of the situation, and how everything was about to change...

"I trust Harry got you what you sought from Slughorn?"

"He did, yes. He confirmed that Slughorn was the one who informed Tom about the Horcruxes."

"But that still doesn't help us in locating—"

"No, it doesn't, but I believe I've found the locket, as I've already told you. I intend to take Harry with me to fetch it."

"When?"

"Tomorrow evening."

"_Tomorrow?_"

"You yourself said that Bellatrix and the others will be infiltrating Hogwarts tomorrow evening. Therefore, I mustn't delay."

"But..."

Severus lost his sense of speech. It seemed to be all happening so fast now, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Nothing at all. And Hermione...

_Hermione..._

"Severus," Dumbledore urged, bringing Severus out of his reflections. He was now standing in front of him and placed his aged hands gently on the Slytherin's shoulders. The look he bore was that of a father gazing upon a son, and it took Severus aback, leaving him jolted and slightly sickened. "A lot is riding on you, I know. I can't imagine what you must be going through. I daresay befriending Miss Granger over this past term has to have been one of the few surprises I'm grateful for. I don't know how much you've confided in her—I can't imagine much, knowing how careful and guarded you are—but for what little comfort her friendship has provided you, I'm glad of it.

"_Harry will need you_, Severus. You know you can't disclose anything to him until the opportune moment. You must be patient, and only once Voldemort is weakened. Miss Granger must be prepared as well. I know you've been trying to prep her carefully and discreetly, but it might be worth giving her a little more information before tomorrow night.

"After tomorrow, everything will change. And you will probably never get another opportunity to tell her what needs to be done..."

"Are you suggesting I tell her of Voldemort's plan?"

"No, Severus. She can't know, as much as you would wish her to. We need to let it appear as if things are going according to Voldemort's will. But if there is a way to tell her more about the Horcruxes—"

"I've told her everything I know, Albus."

Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise. "You have?"

"Yes." He paused. "With the exception of Potter.

"Oh... Well, that is good."

"Should I tell her about you and Potter? Your plans?"

"I told Harry we would go tomorrow. I'm sure Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are already well-informed."

"Very well."

"Severus?"

Severus gazed at Dumbledore expressionlessly, knowing it would be the last time he would ever look into those twinkling, all-knowing blue eyes; those half-moon spectacles; and that elderly face that could at once shake him to anger, but then bring him back around to the utmost respect in a matter of moments.

"You may feel very much on your own in the months to come, but you aren't alone. Remember that."

Severus didn't know what to say, and in truth, there wasn't much he could think of. He bowed to the Headmaster respectfully, making sure to keep his pale face rigid and unmoved, and slowly took his leave from Dumbledore's office. The last time that it would be his. The last night that it would belong to the one wizard Voldemort feared the most.

* * *

Hermione had been anxious ever since Harry informed her earlier that night that he and Dumbledore would be off to locate one of the Horcruxes. It was dangerous, and she would not be permitted to help. Granted, anyone would feel safe with Dumbledore in tow, but even Hermione was having her reservations about him now. The Headmaster hadn't looked well in recent weeks and hardly anyone but Severus or Harry was known to have seen him.

Severus's presence, too, had grown scarce, and Hermione knew why. He was always being summoned, and there were days during D.A.D.A. when he looked on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion. No one else seemed to notice this alarming change, however.

Draco was also frequently absent from class, something that Harry stewed over quite a bit. Ron had slowly made his way back into their circle as well, grumbling a half-arsed apology for his actions, but it was clear he was still very much resentful towards Hermione and wasn't about to let her forget how he felt. Harry's upcoming dangerous adventure with Dumbledore seemed to lessen Ron's agitation a bit, which was about the only thing Hermione was thankful for at present.

There was an unsettling fear in the air. Everyone felt it. Even the staff was starting to act relatively testy and worried. Hermione was desperate to talk it over with Severus, but he was hardly ever available anymore, and when he did show up for her continued detention sessions, he wasn't able to speak much on account of everything he had to do, and Hermione didn't have the heart to press him where it wasn't warranted.

But something was terribly wrong...

The night Harry told her about going to find the locket with Dumbledore, Hermione decided to chance another midnight outing to Severus's office. She knew she would probably regret it because the professor more than likely wouldn't be there anyhow, but the Gryffindor in her was willing to take her chances.

Hermione slipped into a pair of worn jeans and a light sweatshirt, threw back her hair into a loose ponytail, and tip toed out of the common room clutching two books that she had taken out of the library earlier that day in the hopes of asking Severus more about the locket. Crookshanks lazily stayed on his comfortable perch at the end of her bed, giving her a very reproachful regard as she quietly left the room.

Hermione strode briskly through the corridors. It may have been early June, but the nights at Hogwarts were still a little chillier than the norm. She was just turning a corner when she spotted the familiar silhouette of Severus at the end of the hallway in front of a Hogwarts statue. He seemed to spot her at the very same moment as she and froze, his robes flaring out behind him against the gentle breeze.

"Severus!" she exclaimed, though still trying to keep quiet. She made a mad dash towards him and was puzzled when he backed away instead of approaching her.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione could just make out his face in the darkness against a nearby flaming torch. He looked frazzled and out of sorts, and not at all in the mood to be disturbed, which immediately disappointed her.

"'Miss Granger'?" she repeated, scrunching up her nose.

Severus cleared his throat and gave her his stern upper lip. "You should get back to bed. Now. What have I told you about wandering the corridors at night?"

"But I—"

"Haven't you learned?"

"I was just—"

"I'm not interested in any childish excuses. Get back to Gryffindor Tower."

"Severus, why on earth—"

"_Go now!_" he barked with a force that startled her. He started to storm off in the opposite direction when Hermione reached out to seize his arm. He threw his head around with an animal-like snarl. "Miss Granger, would you desist?"

Severus made an elegant wave of his arm to prevent her from touching him and strolled onward, leaving her dumbfounded. Hermione wasn't about to give up so easily though and scampered after him, her caramel irises staring up at him imploringly when she reached his side again.

"Oh, so it's 'Miss Granger' now, is it?" she exclaimed heatedly as she attempted to keep pace with him. Severus, however, plunged down another dim corridor at full speed in an obvious attempt to lose her, causing Hermione to question whether he even knew where he was going.

"That was a mistake!" Severus spat as they rounded a corner. "It was highly inappropriate and I renounce it!"

Hermione felt as if the wind had been sucked out of her lungs. "What?"

"I should never have called you by your first name, Miss Granger, and I will abstain from doing so in the future."

Jolted and not knowing what else to say for the moment, Hermione grumbled, "You would," rather painfully and turned away from him, staring straight ahead but refusing to fall back.

Severus glanced sideways at her, his pallid face softening only momentarily at observing the injury he had caused; but Hermione took no notice of it. She was far too hurt, her emotional reaction visible by her reddened cheeks and pursed lips.

Severus sighed and abruptly quit walking, causing Hermione to stumble forward. She had been practically tripping over herself to keep up with him, and his sudden stop threw her off balance. She clutched the two thick books she was carrying to her chest and glared up at him, waiting.

"It's not suitable for me to address you in such a way, Miss Granger. You should be well aware of that."

"But I thought..."

"What?" he growled, scrunching his pointed nose most unpleasantly.

"I thought we were _friends_..."

Her voice lingered on the last word, a mixture of awe and yearning decipherable in how it was so carefully phrased. She felt stupid for saying it. After all, as far as she was concerned—and she thought Severus thought so as well—they were _more_ than friends now. So much more...

Hermione reverted from looking him in the eyes anymore and, instead, turned her gaze to the stone floor. Severus's glower subsided, but only a little.

"Miss Granger... I am your professor. I cannot be your friend."

"What?" Hermione breathed, her eyes meeting his again despite her intentions not to look. Another wounded expression surfaced. "That's not..."

"What, Miss Granger?"

Hermione pouted, her lower lip starting to quiver. "That's not what you said before..."

"I shouldn't have said it."

Hermione could hardly comprehend what was happening anymore. How had things drastically changed so quickly?

"How can you..." Her question drifted away with the night air, leaving her mouth hanging open.

In the heat of the moment, Severus grew impatient and rounded on her quickly. "How can I _what?_ Spit it out, Miss Granger! You're testing my patience!"

"Oh, never mind!"

"Indeed!"

Hermione huffed and stomped her foot on the floor. Severus placed his hands behind his back as he stared down at her with clear indignation and an unnerving calmness that only made her feel worse. _Much worse._

"Acting like a child will get you nowhere in life, Granger. I suggest you use words to formulate your thoughts rather than reverting to temper tantrums like that of a five-year-old. It's unbecoming."

Hermione's cheeks flushed an even brighter shade of red. "You...!" she started, her voice now trembling along with her lower lip.

"Your gift of vocabulary, Granger, continues to astound me. Are you quite through?"

"You - You are despicable!"

"How illuminating," Severus drawled, showcasing his trademark scowl.

"I don't know why I ever trusted you! You're an arrogant, bitter, deceitful man! And you think of no one but yourself!"

Severus let out a weary sigh. "In that case, you will have to excuse me. I have more important things to do than stand here and listen to you stammer on about how horrid I am. Goodnight, Granger."

"_It's Hermione!_" she snapped, her eyebrows coming together as she fought back tears. "And you know it!"

"I already told you, Grang—"

"Why are you doing this? What have I done?"

Severus stepped back and ran his long fingers through his tresses. He didn't want to end it this way; he didn't want to end it at all, but he hardly knew how else to approach things anymore. He was raw and unwound and at odds with everything and everyone, including her.

"You haven't done anything—" he started to explain with another heavy sigh before Hermione interrupted him.

"Then what's changed in the past twenty-four hours?"

"I - I can't—"

"You can't tell me, right?"

It was a challenge but marked by an underlying desire to help. Severus, however, growled excitedly, frustrated with her prodding.

"Why don't you go back to that block-headed buffoon you're so enraptured with, Mr. Weasley, and leave me be? Your constant barraging and need to disrupt my life have grown beyond tiresome, Granger! _ENOUGH!_"

Hermione's eyes widened. "What?"

"Are you incapable of understanding?"

"No, Sev—" she quickly stopped and corrected herself, "_Sir!_"

"Very well, then!"

He started to walk away from her, though there was a flash of guilt written on his exhausted countenance as he left. He was well aware of hurting Hermione, and it obviously pained him to do so, but she had not seen this swift reflection. It was gone as quickly as it had come.

"Sev—Snape, please!" Hermione begged, sounding desperate and not at all in control anymore. "I - I just want to help you! Please, don't walk away from me..."

Severus hesitantly turned around, his cloak sweeping the floor along with his stride. He surveyed her face through narrowed, spiritless eyes. After a long pause, he finally addressed her, and, when he did, his voice was low and barely above a whisper, even though no one was around to overhear.

"You cannot help me, Miss Granger... Go away."

"But—"

"It's late, and if you don't return to your dormitory immediately, Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris will find you soon enough. I will _not_ weasel you out of a detention should you get yourself caught. Now go."

"_Please!_" Hermione insisted, stepping forward even though she knew it was probably futile. "I know something's wrong. I can see it in your eyes. You can't fool me. What is it?" When Severus continued to stare at her silently, she took another careful step towards him, almost afraid he would Disapparate on her if she came any closer. "You can tell me, Severus..."

This time, there was no flash of anger or scolding for addressing him so inappropriately. His shoulders stiffened, but it was the only part of him that reacted. Hermione waited for Severus to respond but, to her dismay, he said nothing, only projected that penetrating gaze he so often used when he was staring straight through someone to their very soul.

"It's him, isn't it?" she pressed, reaching out to the dark wizard before thinking better of it. "What do you know, Severus? What does Voldemort want of you now? Has it anything to do with Harry? Is he in danger?"

"Miss Gran—"

"_Hermione_," she repeated, this time with calmness. Before he could say something snide, she added hastily, "No one's here. It's only you and me. Why can't you call me that when it's just us? I _am_ your f - friend," she paused on the rest of her sentence, feeling terribly fragile, "if nothing else. I don't care what you say..."

_I'm more than that to you, I know it..._

"I don't wish for yours or anyone's company," Severus grumbled, giving her a cold look that made her shiver. The unhappiness in his voice, however, betrayed his words. "Leave me alone."

"Severus..."

"I can never fall in love again."

His words lingered in the air far after he had spoken them aloud, and Hermione felt as if a knife had sliced its way through her heart. She stepped back, aghast and lost for words. Tears were prickling her eyes as she tried to prevent them from falling.

"Severus... How can you say that?"

"What else is there to say?" he returned quietly, leaving her bereft of air.

"What we have... Everything that's happened between us... Does - Does that mean _nothing_ to you?"

Severus flinched ever so slightly, his hands balling into fists. The tears that finally fell down Hermione's cheeks made him anguished and squeamish all at once. He hated himself. He needed to get away from her immediately, and yet, his feet were molded to where he stood. He was virtually paralyzed. Unwilling to go, unwilling to stay.

"I can't do this," he struggled to get out after a moment.

Hermione reared back as if she had been personally struck. "Why, Severus?" she choked. "_Why?_"

"I don't know."

"What did I do? Please tell me what I've done?"

"It's not you, Hermione," he whispered, delicately saying her name at last. "It's me."

Hermione quickly wiped her tears on her sleeve, stifling the sobs that were making their way to the surface. "If it's not me, then what's changed in you?"

"Nothing's changed."

"_Huh?_"

"I... I told you. I am incapable of falling in love again. It was a mistake, on my part, to believe I could."

Hermione could only stare, pained and stripped of composure. Finally, she took another step towards him, her voice barely above the summer breeze that swept in from the courtyard nearby.

"But I... I thought..."

Severus waited, and then straightened his shoulders. The words were on the tip of his tongue, and it took all the magical energy he had to put an end to everything.

"You thought wrong."

Severus couldn't take it any longer. He didn't want to study the sorrow that poured over Hermione's face, stung and struck down by his final blow. If he stayed another moment, he would cave and bring the distraught and horribly injured Hermione into his arms and confess that he was a liar and a bastard, both of which were true. The hurt written all over Hermione's beautiful face was enough to discourage him, and Severus forced himself to push on, away from her, for what he suspected would be the very last time.

And this time, Hermione didn't call after him, simply too rattled to do so. She stood, frozen, watching as Severus's dark silhouette disappeared into the shadows at the end of the hallway, leaving her confused, emotionally raw, and entirely alone.

Severus dashed to the D.A.D.A. room and up the stairs to his office. He collapsed into his leather chair and rubbed at his temples, heaving a burdened sigh as he did so. He whisked his wand in a circle and an image conjured into the air, meant for his eyes only.

The vivid picture that formed showed him binding hands with someone—a handsome woman with long blonde hair. She was beautiful, but her eyes were forlorn and crushed. Tears were pouring down her face. Narcissa Malfoy.

Someone else was present, too. A disheveled, frightening-looking woman with black, lumpy hair that resembled that of a skunk's tail. Bellatrix.

A ripple of bright light twisted around Severus's and Narcissa's arms as they gripped each other tight. The Unbreakable Vow...

"I promised," Severus murmured to himself, staring at the image with an acid reflection that only grew the longer he stared at the unfolding memory. He suddenly brought a hand to his head and closed his eyes. "I can't do this," he said resignedly, sounding and looking beyond fatigued.

After a long moment, he flicked his wrist and the image reverted back into his wand. He leaned against his chair and stared lazily at the unlit fireplace. With another swift wave of his wand, bursts of flame brought the space much-desired light and warmth.

"Hermione," he whispered aloud. This time, it carried all the tenderness and delicacy with how he truly regarded the young woman. "What will you think of me, _my Hermione_, when this is over?"

It was a rhetorical question, not meant for anyone's ears, but the gravity of it fell upon the room and lingered, unwelcomed. Severus already knew the answer. She would despise him; hate him just as the rest of the wizarding world would come to do in a matter of hours...

* * *

"Hurry!" Bellatrix squealed with delight, skipping a few steps, as if she were marking some great celebration.

She and several Death Eaters made their way towards the Astronomy Tower. The Vanishing Cabinet had worked its magic, and now it was time to ensure that the young Malfoy fulfilled his pledge of finishing what he started.

Severus sensed their progression with his intuitive, heavily guarded magic, even from afar, as he, too, made his way towards the Astronomy Tower to meet them all. His very brisk walk felt entirely too slow. It was equivalent to an out-of-body experience, in which the wizard was watching himself progress, ascending towards his fate like a man walking the plank to his demise.

He thought of Lily, reminding himself that this was all for her—it had always been for her—and prayed for the courage he would need in just a few moments time; he knew he could do it, and that he must, but his conscience and racing heart held him back now that the moment was near.

Severus thought it had something to do with Lily. He even thought it might be about Harry; as misguided as the boy may be about Severus's intentions, Severus had always protected him to the best of his ability. Was it regret for his treatment of the orphaned boy that now caused this hesitation?

_No..._ Then it came to him as unforgivably as a severe punch to the stomach: _Hermione._

"Please forgive me," he begged aloud, whispering against the stifling night air. "It's not what it seems. _It's not what it seems..._"

_She'll never draw that conclusion, Severus. After this, she'll never be naïve enough to trust you ever again..._

Severus progressed up the steps, as if in slow motion. He could hear muffled voices coming from the top floor. As he had concluded earlier, they were already here. And Draco... Would he do it? Would he miraculously save Severus the agony of performing the Unforgivable Curse himself?

_Don't, Severus. The boy's soul needn't be contaminated for your unworthy sake. He deserves a chance. Your soul is already damaged and was forsaken long ago. You have to do this..._

Then Severus reached the top, and for a split second, his legs froze. He could sense Harry crouched and hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak nearby, locked in a body-bind, and felt additionally weakened on the spot. The boy would witness everything. Severus hadn't been sure if Harry would be here tonight, but knowing that he was present made this more difficult than it was already turning out to be. How Dumbledore ever expected Harry to trust him—to believe Severus once he told the boy everything he needed to know—after _this_ would be truly miraculous...

As Severus stepped onto the platform, the swarm of Death Eaters parted like the Red Sea. Draco stepped back and shot Severus an expression of relief and appreciation, that changed to one of horror at what his godfather was about to do.

Severus locked eyes on his master, the elderly, mighty wizard he respected and loathed simultaneously. That man was no more. Dumbledore was clinging to the stone wall, half slunk against it, looking entirely feeble and defeated.

"Severus, please..." Dumbledore pleaded softly, in a gentle tone that scorched through Severus's veins and caused his mouth to run dry.

For one defining moment, Severus's mind wandered to a certain young woman, the sole individual who, in only a few short months, had become his one source of comfort and companionship these past lonely seventeen years. _Hermione._

_I'm so sorry_, he wanted to shout from the rooftops, hoping the Gryffindor might even be awake to hear his desperate cry for forgiveness. _This isn't me. It isn't. I NEVER WANTED ANY OF THIS!_

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

His lips performed the Killing Curse before his mind could fully grasp the magnitude of the spell he had unleashed, and in a flash of green light, the lifeless body of Albus Dumbledore gracefully descended from the ledge, taking all the former projections of loyalty and allegiance of one Severus Snape with him. Severus watched Dumbledore's body disappear from the Astronomy Tower, and felt the cruel embrace of exile wrap him in its hold for what Severus determined must be for good. Or the rest of his life, however short it may be.

_Now, Severus Snape, you are truly alone..._

* * *

**A/N #2: And so ends _The Half-Blood Prince_. Well, _almost_. Time for _Deathly Hallows_..._  
_**


	26. The Lonely Road

**Chapter 26: The Lonely Road**

The whole of the Death Eaters had gathered on the night of the break in at Hogwarts in a remote, undisclosed, wooded area that Voldemort had been frequenting for months. Their anxiety mounted when Severus, Draco, and the others Apparated onto the grounds, shielded by a handful of trees and a light gust that fought them on their way towards their destination.

Voldemort was standing in the middle of them all, twirling his wand in hand, his face austere, waiting. Severus stopped a few feet before him and inclined his head. Draco and the others followed suit, and the young Malfoy concealed himself behind his godfather, terrified beyond measure. He hadn't performed the task as instructed, and had just watched his Headmaster die before his very eyes. He could hardly wrap his brain around the events that had transpired over the past twenty or so minutes, and prayed Severus would protect him from the Dark Lord's wrath once he learned of Draco's failure to carry out his orders.

"_Well?_" asked one of Voldemort's followers, a short, pudgy sort of man who was too agitated to keep quiet, echoing the desperate curiosity of all.

Severus kept his face reserved, and stared straight into his master's eyes. "It is done," he declared without feeling.

A reverberation of glee followed this incredible news. There was much sinful snickering, high-pitched cackles, and sinister remarks about the mighty wizard's demise, but Severus paid none of that any mind. He focused instead on the Dark Lord's reaction, which was one of wicked satisfaction and violent delight. His face broke out into a catlike grin, the visibility of his rotting teeth spreading from ear to ear.

"The great Albus Dumbledore is no more," Voldemort proclaimed, entranced by the weight of those words. The Death Eaters responded respectfully, echoing howls of praise. Once the eruption quieted, Voldemort folded his hands together and gazed at Severus proudly. "You have done well, Severus. _Exceedingly well..._"

Severus felt as if he were on autopilot. Surprisingly, despite having to keep his facade intact, he didn't feel much of anything. He had been stripped raw by the unforgivable act he had performed, and despite his sharp mind and attention, hadn't quite grasped the notion of the immensity of his actions. He had just permanently corrupted his soul, and by committing an unpardonable act that would leave him irreversibly damaged.

"Thank you, my Lord," he responded in his monotonous tone.

Voldemort turned his attention to the half-masked figure hiding behind Severus's robes. "Draco," he whispered eerily.

Draco stiffened, but then slowly emerged from behind Severus's back, his skin white as a ghost's. His lower lip began to tremble when he spotted his parents amongst the gatherers to Voldemort's right. His mother looked positively frightened, and his father looked as if he had been through hell and back. They both reached out to their son, but then quickly lowered their arms. They could do nothing for him, and could only pray that the Dark Lord would show him—would show the entire Malfoy family—mercy.

"Y - Yes, my - my Lord?" Draco squeaked, his voice catching in his throat.

Severus stepped aside, but flashed Draco an encouraging look. Draco prayed that he hadn't just imagined it.

"You were unable to perform the Killing Curse?"

"I..."

"You did not follow through on my orders?"

"I... My Lord..."

"He successfully transported Bellatrix and the others to Hogwarts, my Lord," Severus spoke up, knowing this would be his sole opportunity to save his godson from most certain death. "The Vanishing Cabinet was, indeed, a great success. He did very well on that task.

"Draco disarmed Dumbledore and held him hostage until our arrival. I stepped in to take over for Draco strictly for _personal_ reasons. I ask for your forgiveness, my Lord. I know it was not your order, nor my task to accomplish, but my adrenaline and selfish need for satisfaction were too great at the time to subdue.

"I wanted to kill Dumbledore, my Lord; I yearned for the opportunity to kill the old brute who'd sought to suppress me all these years. Forgive me, my Lord. If there is anyone who is to blame for Draco not carrying out your demands, it is I."

Bellatrix let out a disgruntled snort from behind them and peeked her head around to get Voldemort's attention. "My Lord, Draco_ did_ get us into Hogwarts as promised, but he hesitated. He fully hesitated. I saw it! Snape here stepped in because he _had_ to, because Draco didn't have the stomach to do it in the end; not for some silly shot at personal glory—"

"_Sister!_" Narcissa implored, unable to repress the urge to speak.

Voldemort raised one hand, which immediately silenced everyone. He stepped forward, his red eyes fixed on the professor.

"I know you wanted satisfaction, Severus. I have long sensed that from you. Oh, yes, I have sensed it...

"Perhaps you should have waited a little longer to give Draco the chance to reconsider his actions, but no matter. Dumbledore is dead, and you have proven yourself to everyone here." He turned to Bellatrix, who looked on the verge of a tangent, but she quickly shut her mouth when her master addressed her, "Isn't that right, Bellatrix?"

Severus casually reared his head around towards the loony, resentful witch—the sole individual amongst the Death Eaters who didn't trust Severus worth a damn—and waited with a triumphant smirk. He may have hated himself, but this was a small dose of satisfaction he _would_ willingly allow himself to indulge in.

"Yes, my Lord," she muttered quietly, and diverted her eyes from Severus.

"Very well." Voldemort passed Severus and stopped before Draco, who gulped and looked as if he might be sick all over the powerful wizard's robes. "You made a great first step into our circle, Draco. I will forgive your lapse of fortitude this one time..."

Narcissa and Lucius let out the breaths they had been sucking in, and Draco stepped back with relief, undoubtedly on the verge of passing out. Voldemort called upon several individuals to begin rallying their allies, to which they and several more Disapparated on the spot. Voldemort allowed the majority to disperse but made a point of relaying to the Malfoys that their estate would now serve as headquarters.

As he conversed with a freshly timid Lucius and Narcissa, Draco grabbed hold of Severus's arm, and the professor nearly flew back at the boy's unexpected touch. "Tha - Thank you, S - Severus. I... I don't know how to..."

"Quiet, Draco," Severus commanded, and the boy closed his mouth, a bit stung by his godfather's snippy response.

He slowly made his way over to his parents and the Dark Lord, and Severus was momentarily distracted by the sight of his godson, white as a sheet with his head hanging low, to find that Bellatrix had joined him at his side.

"I'm not fooled by you, Snivellus," she squawked, and Severus cast her a look of utter disdain. "You may have won over the Dark Lord for the time being, but one day soon he'll see right through you like _I_ do!"

"You're a fool, Bellatrix," Severus returned with a purposefully bating sneer, "and a mad cow. Nothing you say will ever be taken seriously by the Dark Lord; you needn't bother threatening me. I deceived Dumbledore, I killed the old man, and I am as faithful and as justified a follower as you. Pray, what have you done of any particular importance to our cause, Bellatrix, besides fawn over the Dark Lord like a bitch in heat?"

Bellatrix's pupils dilated, and the angry flush that broke out on her face brought her reputation of lunacy into full force. As her quivering hand reached for her wand, she was met with Severus's own that struck her right beneath her chin. She gasped, and for a fleeting moment, looked truly frightened for her life.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Severus purred dangerously. "You'd upset the Dark Lord by hexing his most loyal supporter; his most trusted servant who just killed Hogwarts' Headmaster."

Bellatrix snarled abrasively and bore her teeth. "_You bastard!_ You lying, cheating, no good—"

"Careful, Bellatrix," Severus warned, keeping his voice unnervingly steady. "You are at a disadvantage. And your reflexes will never be quicker than mine."

Bellatrix let out a defining cry of exasperation. "You - You fiend! _I know what you are!_ You don't bloody fool me! And you will regret this!"

Severus angled his head slightly and shot her a smile he knew would make her blood boil. It probably _was_ a mistake to instigate the crazy witch further, but Severus was so raw at the moment, he really couldn't care less for his own life.

"We shall see," he provoked softly.

Finally, Severus lowered his wand. Bellatrix shot him one last wild glare of hatred and stomped off, her mad mass of curls waving wildly as she left. Severus hitched a sharp breath, grateful that she had not seen fit to make matters worse or more of a headache for him than they already were.

He was already sick to his stomach, internally had never felt worse in his life, and yearned to be alone, if only for a moment, to berate himself accordingly for what he had done. By all accounts, he wished himself to die, but there was nothing for it. He would have to continue, if only for Harry, and to ensure that the boy learned everything before the end.

_Lily... Was it worth it?_

Then another person crossed his mind, swiftly taking over the love that he had conjured up in his head for the once green-eyed, red-haired beauty. This woman was one of a very different glamour, however, but equally as radiant and far more disarming than Lily, whom Severus had pined after most of his life. Unlike his now dead lover, this lady was very much alive, glowing, and more present to him than any person had ever been in his whole life.

_Hermione..._ Severus closed his eyes; he didn't wish to block her out, but the excruciating pang that shot through his chest had left him incapacitated, and he couldn't bear to take in the place he found himself in now. _Please don't forsake me. Please... Don't give up on me. Please..._

* * *

Hermione sat in isolation on the secluded rooftop she and Severus had once frequented together. No one would find her here, and that was just as well. She wanted to be alone. She _needed_ to be alone.

_How could I have been so wrong about you?_

It seemed the only logical question her mind was capable of grasping. The great Albus Dumbledore was dead; murdered in cold blood. Her best friend had witnessed it all, and it was Severus Snape who had performed the Killing Curse and then abandoned the school to its ruin.

At first, when Harry relayed the events of the pasty twenty-four hours to her, Ron, and Ginny in the common room, Hermione couldn't believe it. Her heart felt like it had been plucked right out of her chest and squeezed tortuously before her eyes.

_There must be some mistake. Harry's in shock. There were a number of Death Eaters present on the Astronomy Tower. It could have been Bellatrix who killed Dumbledore. Yes, it must have been her, or one of the others... Severus would never do such a thing! He - He couldn't. He respected Dumbledore; he worked for him and the Order for nearly two decades. He was on our side! He was on mine... Severus would never have killed Dumbledore!_

The notion just didn't seem plausible; it wasn't reminiscent of the man she knew. Not the terribly misunderstood wizard she had grown to love, who had been prepping her for months, opening himself up to her as he had never done with anyone else, offering her a sincere glimpse into who he was: a good, albeit damaged, soul. An assassin? That just wasn't _him..._

_Who are you kidding, Hermione? He did it... Severus Snape betrayed you. He used you, he never gave a damn, and now he's up and abandoned you without so much as a goodbye..._

Hermione wove her arms more tightly around herself, staring out upon the open grounds as the sun was starting to set behind the tall trees of the Forbidden Forest. Somewhere out there was Severus Snape—a murderer, a liar, and a free man—while she stood here, left to make sense of everything the man had run away from, without any prior word or explanation or a single care in the world. She wanted to cry, and suspected at some point she would finally break down, but for now, she was far too numb and shocked for tears.

In less than a day, her entire world—the whole of the wizarding world—had been turned upside down. Hermione had expected for some time now that things would get worse, that life would grow considerably darker before the sun finally rose again, but she never anticipated _this_. Nothing that bordered on this magnitude of despair...

What would they do with Dumbledore gone? How would Hogwarts survive? What would Harry do now? What would the Order do without almighty Dumbledore at its head?

McGonagall, now acting as Headmistress, was reconvening the Order and arranging for Dumbledore's funeral, but so much was still uncertain, unclear, and unsure. Hermione had tried to think logically and consider their next moves, but it was no use. She was simply too distraught to think rationally right now, and suspected she would remain so for quite some time.

_Severus... You told me to trust you, to believe in you, to not give up on you. And now look what you've done to me!_

Hermione scowled heavily and ground her teeth together. She wasn't resolved yet—the pain was still too near to her heart—but she had probably never been as enraged with anyone as much as she was with the Potions Master right now; not even Ron left her this shaken and distressed.

"Harry was right," she sputtered aloud, her words bitter and cold despite the warm summer breeze, "Ron was right; _everyone was right about you, Severus_. And I ignored them all. I defended you, and look how you've repaid my trust!"

What was he doing now, at this very moment? Receiving elated praises from Voldemort over his decisive undermining and killing of the world's greatest wizard? Celebrating this 'victory' with his fellow Death Eaters? Did he carry even a shred of remorse for his abominable actions? Was he even thinking of her?

_What does it matter, Hermione? And why should you care now?_

"I hope I see you again, Severus," she stated in a low, pained whisper, "just so I have the opportunity to hurt you myself. Just as you've hurt me..."

Hermione tore herself away from the roof top at least, determined never to come here again. Today, she would rejoin Harry and Ron, and never look back on the events of the past several months ever again.

"Not ever!" she exclaimed. She flung open the door and disappeared down the stairs, tears prickling her eyes but never falling.

* * *

Dumbledore's funeral was as somber an affair as could be expected. Many came from near and far to pay their respects, including members of the Order, and even the new Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour.

Hermione was surprised to find herself being consoled by Ron in a tender manner the young man rarely displayed during their Headmaster's committal. Like her, there were tears in his vivid, blue eyes as Dumbledore was laid to rest beneath the sun-drenched clouds. She had no idea what lay ahead for her and Ron, but whatever disagreements they had recently shared, they were all swept away by Dumbledore's unforeseeable demise and what was in store for Harry in the very near future.

_Harry needs you, Hermione. You know that, and Severus told you so— Would you stop thinking about him? He doesn't deserve a kind thought or regard in your mind, the bastard! The coldhearted, lying, murdering bastard..._

Following the funeral, the three conversed several times over searching out the remaining Horcruxes. Harry protested, of course, but his efforts to go it alone fell on deaf ears. Hermione and Ron would go with him. There was no way in hell he would face such a daunting task alone, without anyone to aid or protect him. And just as Severus had encouraged her in the months before, Hermione intended to use what further knowledge she had gained under his direction to see to it that her best friend was guarded and in capable company.

"We're with you, Harry," she and Ron both concluded repeatedly until Harry finally gave in. "It's always been that way. We're going with you, and that's that."

It took another day or two for Hermione to finally muster the courage to tell them everything Severus had confided in her about the Horcruxes. Their reactions were what she expected, and they didn't make her feel any less guilty. Harry and Ron were naturally bewildered with the information they received.

"He told you all that?" Ron asked several times in shock. "_Snape did?_"

"Yes," Hermione confessed, hardly able to look at Harry as they conversed beneath a tree near the edge of the Hogwarts grounds.

"Blimey," Ron replied breathlessly, "he really _did_ confide in you, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did." Hermione gazed at the Black Lake, a deeply wounded pang forming in the middle of her chest that her friends weren't aware of. "I trusted him, and he betrayed me."

"He betrayed us all," Harry corrected, "and Dumbledore more than anyone. In the end, Snape turned on him, just like I said he would..."

"Should we even believe what he told you about the Horcruxes?" Ron asked.

Hermione turned to him, then Harry, and sighed dejectedly. "I don't know. I don't think he made it all up. I think there was a lot of truth to what he said, but I... I just don't know."

"What else did he confide in you about?" Harry asked, a sweltering anger lingering behind the round glasses.

Hermione rather detested the accusation detectable in Harry's questioning and gave him a cold stare that he matched. "Nothing much."

"You're lying."

"I don't want to talk about it, Harry."

"Well, you should! You should have told me!"

"Harry, I've already told you, _I wanted to!_ I wanted to so badly! It tore me apart not to be able to tell you a bloody thing, but I was sworn to secrecy."

Harry averted his eyes, angling his jaw unpleasantly. "Even so..."

"Don't push her, Harry," Ron urged quietly, which surprised them both.

Harry opened his mouth to retort but then reconsidered Ron's request and tightened his jaw. "Fine."

For a while, the three of them sat in silence at the large oak tree they had sought shelter beneath, soaking in their changed world, which now felt only bleak and, even to Hermione, relatively hopeless. A part of her just wanted to disappear, or go to sleep for a decade or two and forget all of this. And as much as she longed to Obliviate all her past conversations, gentle kisses, meaningful hugs, and warm feelings about Severus Snape from her mind, Hermione couldn't possibly do so. She couldn't forget about him just yet, and she hated herself for it.

* * *

Severus sought shelter at his home at Spinner's End for what would turn into all of June and most of July. He was secretly relieved to not have to face any of his colleagues from Hogwarts for the time being, nor anyone outside of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, for that matter, but the solitude was still mostly unbearable, and more so than usual.

Peter Pettigrew had stayed on, much to Severus's reluctance, and properly avoided Severus whenever possible, which was more than fine by the professor. Remembering what Hermione had shared only months earlier, it took every ounce of Severus's control not to kill and do away with Lily's traitor every time he ran into the ugly brute. At least the annoyingly skittish, plump fiend was quiet and smart enough to make himself scarce, retreating to the basement or to another level of the house where he couldn't disturb his angry, disgruntled host.

Severus dreamed often of that night on the Astronomy Tower, waking to regular night sweats, noiseless tears, and further bouts of insomnia that lasted the remainder of the night and into most of the following day. He dreamt of many nightmares that had routinely shown themselves to him: past reflections of violence, torture, forced Legilimency, and the like—mostly his own doing or of his own receiving—and the result only increased his insomnia to the worst possible degree.

Severus was surprised to find that, in his waking hours, his mind wasn't nearly as preoccupied with Lily as it had once been. Mostly, thoughts of his lost love had been replaced by a certain insufferable, wonderful, decent, and warmhearted Gryffindor whose company he sorely missed, much worse than he ever anticipated. He missed her more than anyone. More than Lily...

_More than Lily... How is that possible?_

Was Hermione even thinking of him? Occasionally Severus allowed himself to chance the possibility, unlike his ever present conscience, which stomped that idea out like a critical dropkick to the stomach each time the fleeting hope passed him by.

_You're now a wanted man, Severus, and the 'murderer' of the most beloved Headmaster Hogwarts ever had. Hermione Granger won't think of you in the same affectionate manner she had before ever again. You are a bloody fool to hope otherwise! You severed her trust and belief in you for good. Forget about her; it will only bring you misery to know that she hates you for all eternity, along with the rest of the wizarding world..._

Severus grumbled miserably and opened a bottle of Firewhisky, which he had every intention of drinking for the remainder of the day. Pettigrew was gone for the time being, so it was just as well. It may have been only eleven o'clock in the morning, but time didn't matter to an insomniac, and certainly not to Severus Snape. If he had nowhere else to be today—for once—then he would gladly drink himself into a coma.

The Firewhisky burned as it whizzed down the back of his throat, and Severus grimaced unpleasantly at the strong tang it left in his mouth, though very appropriately. Severus wasn't one to drink too fast or too often, considering what alcohol had done to his father, but these days he had become so far lost inside himself that nothing really mattered anymore, including how quickly he downed a bottle of alcohol.

As soon as Voldemort was at his most vulnerable, as soon as the opportunity arose to tell Harry everything, Severus would do so immediately, and then disappear. Permanently, if possible...

_You are more despised now than you ever were, Severus, and you will never, ever reclaim your honor or respect or true self-image in anyone's eyes, least of all Hermione's. You disgust her, and she no longer cares for you, so forget about her... Forget any of it ever happened. Forget that for just one brief moment you were possibly loved for the wretched, pathetic, evil, nonredeemable fuck up that you are!_

But the self-loathing wizard simply couldn't forget. He couldn't get those rich, caramel irises out of his head, or that endearing smile, or those ferocious, soft curls he enjoyed twirling around his fingers, or the feel of those hands that used to stroke his cheeks so wonderfully, with such tenderness as he had never felt.

No matter how much liquor he consumed, no matter how often he attempted to block out images of Hermione, it never worked. Severus Snape hardly knew what to make of such all-consuming misery; it hadn't even occurred to him yet in all his pitying and drunken stupors that he was, in fact, completely and irrevocably in love with her...

As Severus gazed out the window at the relentless downpour that hadn't let up in days, he leaned his forehead against the glass and squeezed his eyes shut, his usual mask now a display of the greatest, most tangible suffering and despair. He fought back the urge to lose his composure. Even in the privacy of his own home, with no one around—at least, for the time being—Severus still couldn't allow himself to cry. Crying was for the weak, for those who had the _right_ to tears. He had never earned that right. And he never would.

"God help me live with myself," he managed in a broken whisper, his heart catching in his throat; the miserable, pounding rain matched his despair. "Just a little while longer, Severus. Just a little while now, and this will all be over, and you can put yourself out of your wretched misery..."

* * *

Draco and Lucius arrived at Spinner's End later that same day, bursting through Severus's fireplace with aggressive speed. Only the Potions Master allowed the Malfoys willful access to his house, though with passwords that constantly changed, for Severus didn't trust anyone, not even the Malfoys. As the two figures Flooed into the darkened sitting room where Severus sat in a leather-bound chair, his long legs crossed over each other as he read quietly, Lucius set to complaining straight away.

"For goodness' sake, Severus, can't you keep the same password for more than two minutes!" Lucius whipped his hair back and stomped his snake cane on the wooden floorboards, looking quite put out. "I nearly severed my arm when Draco and I couldn't come through! You could have told us you hadn't lowered your wards!"

Severus, scanning _The Daily Prophet_, kept the newspaper well above his line of vision, disguising his cross expression from view. "If you had bothered to inform me beforehand that you were coming, Lucius, I might have spared you the trouble."

At this, Lucius hissed, clearly vexed. "Well, it's a good thing Draco remembered some of your old passwords, or we'd have given up!"

"That would have been most unfortunate, indeed."

Severus's brutal sarcasm never failed, and Lucius reacted properly: with anger. "Will you put that ruddy paper down and look at me!"

The newspaper slowly folded back, and Draco and Lucius caught sight of an official black and white photograph of Severus himself spread across the front page. His body in the snapshot moved ever so slightly, but his face was remote and stone cold. Draco soaked in the headline, despite it being upside down: _New Headmaster for Hogwarts: Severus Snape Confirmed._

"So McGonagall has stepped down then?" Draco asked tentatively, finding the notion of the stubborn Head of Gryffindor House giving up her post quite difficult to believe.

"Yes, she has." Severus tossed the newspaper aside and picked up a fresh glass of Firewhisky that sat on an elegantly carved side table beside his chair. "Not without a bit of a fight, of course, but when the Carrows and several other Death Eaters showed up to set things straight, she and the staff quickly backed down. It didn't take much convincing."

"Why didn't you go, Severus?" There was a twinge of concern in Lucius's voice as he stared down at his old friend, almost reprimanding him. "I daresay the Dark Lord will be most displeased to know you didn't accompany the others..."

"I had other engagements to take care of, Lucius. Don't concern yourself with it."

Lucius's suspicious, steel blue eyes narrowed, and he placed one hand gracefully upon his hip. "Other engagements?" he prodded.

The fact that the wizard was snooping for information yet again irritated Severus to no end, but he was hardly energized for another argument. And he was also half in the bag, too. He re-crossed his legs and took a moment to sip his Firewhisky before answering.

"Yes, for the Dark Lord, Lucius, so your concerns are unnecessary. I thank you for considering my welfare."

His derision was acute, and naturally didn't sit well with his one-time housemate. "Nonsense!" Lucius squabbled. "I just want to make sure you don't do something terribly foolish, Severus."

"But of course..." Draco stepped forward and casually took a seat on a fine, upholstered sofa, but Lucius didn't move. Severus put down his glass and eyed them both reservedly. "So to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Draco will be returning to Hogwarts this year. I would much rather he didn't, but his mother is determined to get him as far away from us as possible."

"As far away from _You-Know-Who_ as possible, Father," Draco corrected, but with some reluctance. He rarely ever spoke out of turn, and his remark was evidently not appreciated by Lucius.

"Don't speak of him, Draco! And you are one of us now, son! You should be where the action is! You need to observe these things!"

"Lucius," Severus chided as casually and carefully as he could, "there is not much for Draco to do at this point, and he _does_ need to graduate—"

"His education won't matter once the Dark Lord defeats Potter!" Lucius sneered, his coolness piecing the already strained atmosphere. "Once the boy is out of the picture, we'll all be far too busy for ruddy old Hogwarts!"

"An education is never a matter of non-importance, Lucius..."

"Says the absent-minded professor!"

"Lucius, Draco will see plenty of 'action' with the Carrow twins in tow. I daresay they may allow him to _participate_ in some of their demonstrations..."

_Merlin help us_, Severus prayed, sickened as he always was when he allowed himself to think on the months ahead. He had determined after they first fled Hogwarts to protect the students as much as possible once he returned, Draco included, but there wouldn't be much he would be able to prevent; however, at least he might have a prayer of lowering the Carrows' level of torment, which would most certainly be at its worst once term began.

Lucius seemed to give a little more consideration to the possibility Severus proposed, a reaction that disappointed Severus. Despite now being a very broken man, Lucius was still as smug as ever, and just as prejudiced about pureblood supremacy as he had been when he was in higher favor with the Dark Lord only a year ago.

"That is true," Lucius considered quietly. "Well, I trust you will look after him? Narcissa insisted I come by to receive your word myself. She is most paranoid these days."

"Of course I will, Lucius. You know I will."

Severus nodded towards Draco, who softened at receiving his godfather's promise. He may not have known Severus very well, but the man had already proved himself by saving his life after they fled the school at the beginning of the summer. That was enough for Draco to trust him, despite the things his father told him to the contrary in private.

Lucius stiffened. "Thank you." He looked about the room with an arrogance that almost made Severus snort out loud. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but it was now taking a bit of the edge off. "And the Mudbloods?"

Now Severus went rigid. His hand clasped tighter around his glass, and he fought every ounce of his composure to not hurl the liquor directly at Lucius's self-satisfied face. _Hermione!_ his mind shouted at him, and with the greatest offense towards his fellow Death Eater. Why did he always have to think on that wretched young woman? Why was he _still_ so consumed by her?

"What about them?" Severus inquired cooly.

"How will they be treated?"

Severus lowered his glass, his expression darkening. "How do you think they'll be treated?"

Lucius's lips curled into a suggestive smile. "I hope you won't go too easy on them, Severus. The Dark Lord won't be pleased if you do..."

"I have no intention of 'going easy on them,' Lucius. Why would I?"

"Merlin only knows..."

Severus's mind was too hazy to decipher Lucius's hidden meaning, or whatever the hell he was trying to get at, so he simply snorted and looked away. "I have no idea what you're on about, Lucius. My sentiments about Muggle-borns are just as resolute as yours."

"_That_, my friend, I remain unsure of..."

"Oh?"

"Draco was telling me earlier how you apparently spent an awful lot of time in the company of Miss Granger last term. Is that true?"

Severus's eyes intensified and darted towards Draco, who appeared surprised and uncomfortable that his father had brought this up. The boy shifted and diverted his eyes from his godfather, visibly uneasy.

"Yes, I did, Lucius. And what exactly are you getting at?"

"Nothing in particular." Lucius shrugged, but there was a skeptical, almost provocative smirk lining his mouth now. "Only you spent _a lot_ of time with her from the sounds of it..."

"Because I had the unfortunate responsibility of serving her with detentions three days a week. It wasn't at all a pleasant experience for me, Lucius. Whatever you're trying to insinuate, it is laughable and beneath you. You do remember that I was instructed by the Dark Lord to gain her trust?"

"Yes, well, now that you've killed Dumbledore, that seems to be a moot point."

"Perhaps, but I trust the Dark Lord knows what he's doing, and what he'll want of me when it comes to Miss Granger in the future."

Lucius remained just as collected as Severus, but his eyes betrayed his interest. "We shall see..." For a long pause, the two powerful Slytherins stared at one another, each silently challenging the other. Then Lucius shifted his stance and his gaze lightened. "Well, we won't trouble you any longer. We have things to do."

Severus tried not to smirk and did so by taking another sip of his Firewhisky. "As you wish."

"Come, Draco."

"Can't— Might I stay for a little while, Father?" Lucius was positively baffled, and Severus, too, was equally curious, though he showed no indication of it. "There - There are a few things I'd like to ask Severus about before term—"

"You can talk to him when school starts, Draco," Lucius answered, sounding quite peeved. "I'm sure your new Headmaster will make plenty of time for you whenever you wish it of him."

"Of course," Severus returned without issue, not allowing Lucius to provoke him into an argument. "I shall do whatever I can to help Draco, Lucius. You have my word."

Lucius seemed satisfied with his answer and gave his son his stern upper lip. "Come, Draco. _Now._"

Draco hesitated a moment and glanced at his godfather, half-concealed by the shadows of the room, who didn't appear at all unraveled, nervous, or unsure about what lay ahead. There was much he really _did _want to share with Severus, but the opportunity was lost. It was the whole reason he had accompanied his father to Spinner's End, and now he wouldn't have the chance to relay anything to Severus. He reluctantly rose from the couch and followed Lucius back into the fireplace without another protesting word.

With a flash of green light, the Malfoys disappeared, leaving the Potions Master to the quietude of his newspaper and half-consumed bottle of alcohol. Severus didn't give Lucius's visit another passing thought. Whatever his old friend was up to, or was trying to uncover, it almost didn't matter to him; at least, not now in his drunken state. He would gladly seek to get caught for the moment if he could. At least he would finally be put out of his misery...

For the time being, Severus decided to drown out his sorrows as he had for many weeks, and try to block out thoughts of that blasted—_wonderful_—Hermione Granger as best he could. And that was precisely what he did as he took another large swig of Firewhisky.

* * *

**A/N #2: Poor Severus.** **The guy can't get a break. **

**On a happier note, Opera777 has made two lovely photo manips—one colored and one black and white—from Chapter 24's rooftop scene. They really capture that moment between them beautifully, so be sure to check them out. Links are available under my Profile, too.  
**

** opera777dotdeviantartcom[slash]art[slash]Hermione-and-Severus-on-the-roof-314532527**

**opera777dotdeviantartcom**com[slash]art[slash]On-the-Roof-314534154


	27. The New Headmaster

**A/N: These next two chapters aren't very pleasant. I'd apologize, but it's necessary, so... Lets get on with it.  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 27: The New Headmaster**

The summer following the death of Albus Dumbledore was the most stressful, challenging, and all-around darkest summer the trio had ever experienced, even for Harry, who had been through trials Ron and Hermione couldn't dream of. It began, for Hermione, with the wiping of her parents' memories. She had debated night and day for an exhaustive week and a half about what to do. Could she muster the courage to save them from certain torture by Death Eaters, should any of them discover her parents' whereabouts and relations to her? More to the point, could she actually Obliviate their memories? Her own mother and father? Her parents, whom she loved so much?

The idea of doing so was sickening enough, and as Hermione lay curled up in bed the evening before leaving to join Harry and Ron, her mind drifted, as it so often did, to Severus. Not only did she still yearn for the dangerous man's company, but she certainly would have appreciated _his_ advice on the situation, despite knowing what she knew now. He surely would have told her the right thing, offered her words of comfort, even if they were false, making the decision easier for her to carry out.

It was frustrating to still not be past the point of shock and despair over the changed wizard she had fallen for. Ron and Harry had no idea just how torn apart and miserable the bright witch was, and Hermione couldn't help but muse that perhaps Severus Snape's facade tactics had rubbed off on her. It was one more painful reminder, however, of just how attached to him she had grown, only to lose him all at once...

In the end, Hermione did what she considered to be the unthinkable. It was ultimately to save her parents' lives, but if she made it out of this alive and was able to reverse the damage, her heart broke at the notion that they would probably never forgive her anyhow. And to Hermione, it was nothing less than she deserved...

Hermione made the lonely trip to the Burrow, where she joined Ron, the Weasleys, and members of the Order in devising their plans to move Harry safely and securely from Privet Drive. She was supposed to be entirely focused on the dangerous—and potentially deadly—task at hand, but her mind was still very often distracted by thoughts of Severus.

Would he be amongst any of the potential Death Eaters that might attempt to intervene in their efforts? What if she saw him? What if she was forced to fight against him? Could she do it?

_Who are you kidding, Hermione? Of course he'll be amongst them! He's a Death Eater, after all. Why the hell would you hesitate? You should have no squabbles with this! He lied to you; he's not at all the person you thought he was. Don't you dare hesitate. He won't show you any mercy. You know he won't. If the opportunity presents itself, Severus _will_ kill you, or anyone else here, for that matter._

As Hermione mounted her broom with members of the Order, prepared to take flight from Privet Drive the night their escape arrived, each one of them disguised as Harry, an inappropriate thought entered Hermione's mind just before she took off.

_Heh. Severus was going to help you get over your fear of flying, remember? So much for that... Another broken promise. Oh, my god, Hermione, for Merlin's sake, focus!_

As was nervously anticipated, the Order's attempts to secure Harry's safety _were_ disrupted. Hermione, who had been one of the members at the head, along with Lupin, Tonks, and Ron, was met first by the frightful swarm of Death Eaters who manifested in the sky out of nowhere, shooting hexes at them from every possible direction. There were screams, shouts, and cries for help, but there wasn't time to figure out who was who, who was all right, and who had been injured or struck down.

Hermione had to get to the Burrow. It was the only goal in mind for everyone, along with making sure that none of the Death Eaters discovered the real Harry amongst them. _But Severus will certainly know_, Hermione's conscience penetrated through, despite the chaos surrounding her. _He's no fool, and far too clever to be outwitted..._

As fleetingly as that thought entered her mind, Hermione was nearly thrown off her broom by a dark figure that swooped right over her head. Hermione gasped and gripped her broom to maintain her balance as her body reared sideways to avoid whoever had tried to dismount her. She whipped her head around and aimed her wand at the Death Eater who had flown past in the opposite direction, and her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. _Him_.

The wizard with the billowing black cloak and equally dark hair reared his broom sidelong and turned around. He picked up speed at an alarming rate and flew directly for her. Hermione blinked and thought for a second that perhaps she had hallucinated, but even if it wasn't Severus, he was about to attack her. That much was certain.

Hermione threw a series of hexes at him whilst, at the same time, tried unsuccessfully to keep a firm handle on her broom, but she was wobbly and uncoordinated. The figure whom she believed to be Severus sent a series of hexes back at her, and blocked all of her efforts with ease.

To Hermione, viewing such effortless blocking confirmed her fears. _It was him_. And she was still disguised as Harry.

"Oh!" she gasped suddenly as her broom jerked in the split second she had been distracted at spotting her adversary.

Hermione whipped her head around and gripped the broom with both hands, but her moves weren't fast enough. More hexes flew all around her as she tried to re-gather her ability to keep flying straight, but as Hermione darted this way and that to avoid being struck, she squinted in the fog and darkness and realized that the hexes being hurled at her weren't all that close to her after all. In fact, they were way off kilter, and only felt close on account of how fast she was flying.

Hermione chanced another glance behind her and let out a cry of fright. Severus was on her tail, and even in the night sky with a fierce gust thrashing against her face, Hermione could make out a pale, hooked nose and an unnerving, vigorous focus in a pair of colorless irises that made her heart catapult.

"_SEVERUS!_" she blurted out without thinking.

And then he reacted. His eyebrows tapered, and though he continued to hex all around her, he didn't aim his wand directly at her. Hermione, though confused, couldn't take time to really figure _that_ out. She had to get away from him. At this proximity, he could easily take her out, and leave her for dead.

Could he tell it was her? When she suddenly felt the familiar sensation of her curls waving all about her face, she discerned the answer to her own question swiftly enough. The Polyjuice Potion had worn off, and now her cover was blown.

Hermione whirled her head around and focused on getting ahead, panic washing over her every limb. Her terrible attempt at flight reacted back; her body maneuvered sideways, and in an instant, she was nearly knocked right off her broom.

"PULL UP!" she vaguely heard a deep voice beckon from behind her, as shots of green light continued to swarm all around her, though not close enough to cause any damage.

With only one leg still propped on her broom, and her hands clutching as hard as they could to its front, leaving her defenseless, Hermione's enlarged eyes darted to the cloaked wizard behind her. His broom suddenly shot forward, his head whipping side to side, as if to make sure no one saw what he did next.

He suddenly disappeared from view, which terrified her, but then Hermione felt a very firm throttle against her back. At first, she gasped, thinking he might be trying to push her off her broom, but then she felt her body actually being lifted. She wobbled back into place on her broom, though very unsteadily, just as an outline of the Burrow came into view.

Hermione turned sidelong and finally caught a real glimpse of Severus's face. His long hair was thrashing against his face, but he was staring back at her intensely.

Then, without warning, he swerved his broom and took off in the opposite direction. The movement was fast and fleeting, and then Severus Snape was gone, leaving Hermione stunned and able to descend to the Burrow miraculously unscathed.

* * *

"Even if he didn't harm you, 'Mione, did you see what he did to George? He nearly took his head off!"

"I - I know, Ron. I'm just telling you what happened. I don't know what to make of it either."

Harry adjusted his glasses. "He actually pushed you back onto your broom?"

"Yes..." Hermione could hardly make sense of it herself. "He could have killed me, Harry. He was right behind me. He had his wand aimed and I couldn't possibly have aimed mine back since I was falling. He didn't do anything. He didn't even attempt to sever my broom."

"But that doesn't make any sense." Harry's contorted expression quickly softened. "Not that I'm complaining! I'm really glad you're all right."

"Yeah, um, me, too."

_By all accounts, I should be dead... Along with Mad-Eye..._

"_Still!_" Ron retorted heatedly. "It doesn't change the fact that he blew off George's ear! The bastard! My brother's lucky to be alive! It could have been _him_ instead of Mad-Eye! It could have been George we lost tonight, thanks to Snape!"

Hermione bit her lower lip but said nothing; Ron had a very valid point, and she was too shaken up to make sense of things just yet. She couldn't, however, get that look he bore her just before he flew off out of her mind.

Was it remorse? Concern for her well-being? Or had he simply felt too guilty to hex her and decided to make a go for someone else like George instead? If her disguise as Harry had held, would Severus still have done nothing?

_I just don't know..._

* * *

Severus growled as he descended for another Death Eater meeting at Malfoy Manor. He hated reflecting over the fact that he had subtly saved Remus Lupin's life during the Order's flight to the Burrow, taking out one of the Weasley twin's ears in the process. Sure, Lupin hadn't participated in bullying him like James or Sirius had, but he didn't do a damn thing to stop his friends either. The werewolf certainly wouldn't ever know that his life had been spared by the very person he had mistreated years before, and Severus internally felt quite bitter over that reality, despite the fact that it was simply hopeless and to be expected.

No one would ever know that his intentions were actually for the greater good; that he was, in fact, on _their_ side. If he was lucky enough to pass along anything to Potter in the months ahead—and he knew that he must try by any means necessary to do so—the boy probably wouldn't ever believe that Severus Snape wasn't actually the enemy.

No one would. It didn't matter.

As Severus hit the ground and waved his wand to gain access to the Malfoy estate, his mind wandered briefly as it had nearly round the clock to Hermione again. His highly advanced magic told him where the trio was headed, and what they were up to, but it was highly dangerous. He hated to admit that he worried about her when she probably didn't think him worthy of a kind thought in her own mind.

He remembered the fearful look in her eyes when she had recognized him during her flight to the Burrow. _She was terrified. She_ does _think you're a monster..._

Severus shielded off his thoughts as usual as he entered the house, and the small gathering was just as he expected: unnecessary. The Dark Lord gave him and the Carrow twins instructions for their takeover of Hogwarts, which would begin in a matter of days. When the group disbanded, Severus reluctantly returned to Hogwarts, to his new post as Headmaster, and to the school that had once been his place of refuge but where he now felt alienated and more alone than ever.

He was a hated man now, and the entire staff avoided him, though that was nothing less than what he anticipated. He had never been well-liked by any of them anyhow, but now he had to be on his guard every waking moment. Uprisings and attempts to undermine him, even threats to his life, were already being attempted by several of the professors, McGonagall amongst them, and term hadn't even started yet.

As he Apparated to an abandoned corridor on the first floor, the Carrow twins, who he was forced to give Apparition privileges to on the Hogwarts grounds, reared off to patrol the castle and see to it that none of the staff were lurking about or huddled together, trying to figure out a solution to get rid of them.

Severus stalked off in the opposite direction, back to the privacy of his office. As he moved, the powerful wizard could feel the deeply embedded magic of Hogwarts responding to his every movement. Hogwarts hadn't blocked its new Headmaster access to any part of the castle, or barred him from the head office as it had with Dolores Umbridge. It catered to Severus's every command and need. Shouldn't that have been an indication to McGonagall and the others that perhaps Severus Snape _wasn't_ on the wrong side?

"Idiots," he snarled aloud as he reached the ugly gargoyle. It immediately stepped aside and bowed respectfully, presenting the Headmaster with the spiral staircase that would lead to his only place of retreat.

* * *

The beginning of term was a brutal one for Hogwarts' students. Even Severus was surprised at how many children actually returned. The Carrow twins made a point of practicing the _Cruciatus Curse_ routinely wherever the opportunity could be found; even the first and second years weren't safe from bouts of torture and unprofessional disciplinary action.

It made their Headmaster sick to his stomach, but none of them could possibly decipher that. He, too, took part in 'teaching them lessons,' as it were. Wherever possible, Severus did the littlest damage that he could, and often spared students the Carrows' wrath by disciplining them himself, but he still had to play the part of the brutal dictator, nevertheless. And his efforts made him naturally hated and despised by all.

Students ran from him in the hallways, kept their heads lowered, and scurried around him as quickly as possible; many of the first years even cried out or whimpered as he approached or passed them by. Having students avoid him was nothing new, but the level of terror he invoked in them now had increased tenfold, and Severus was admittedly abhorred and guilt-stricken.

More than once he encountered the likes of Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, or Luna Lovegood, who he knew were good friends of Hermione's, and would be forced to discipline them, particularly Longbottom, who, to Severus's surprise and secret wonder, was finally starting to show signs of manhood, acting out against him or the Carrows whenever possible. Severus was quite impressed, but his once timid student would certainly never know that either. What would Hermione think, to know that he was torturing her friends, but that it wasn't what it seemed, and that he loathed having to do so at all?

_Stop thinking about her, Severus. It's no use. You will probably never see her again, and if you do, it will be in battle. She'll never take your side again._

After a particularly horrid day in which several sixth and seventh years tried to instigate a fight in the Great Hall with the Slytherins, Severus was happy to retreat to his office again and retire for a few hours. It was the only place he could be entirely himself, and let down his guard, if only temporarily.

Once safely confined to his quarters, locked and protected with the greatest of enchantments the mighty wizard could conjure, Severus stalked to the Headmaster's chair and collapsed into it, exhausted. Several portraits stirred or spoke briefly, most of them acknowledging Severus with respect. Dumbledore's portrait greeted Severus once he was properly situated with his head in his hands.

"Brooding again?" Dumbledore whispered in the whimsical way he had once spoken in life.

"Leave me alone." Severus sighed and kept his head down.

"Severus, have you considered—"

"No."

"Why ever not?"

"Because she hates me."

"How do you know unless you seek her out?"

"It's too risky, Albus; unlike you, I care for her well-being. I'm not willing to get caught, and I'm not willing to put her life in danger either by attempting it."

The former Headmaster shifted within his portrait and gazed down at Severus reproachfully. "I don't think she despises you as much as you think..."

"Oh?" Severus spat. "And how would you know?"

"You saved her life, Severus. Do you really think Miss Granger isn't smart enough to realize what you did?"

"She probably thinks I _would_ have killed her if she were still disguised as Potter, Albus. One incident like that won't be enough to change her mind. And I don't blame her."

"You shouldn't say that."

Severus whipped his head around and glared up at Dumbledore's portrait with contempt. "She's not foolish enough to trust me! And she never will after what I did to you! _I betrayed her!_"

Dumbledore's aged face remained calm and collected, and he folded his hands together and studied Severus with curiosity. "I knew you cared about her."

"No, you didn't. I fooled you."

"Admittedly, yes, a bit, but make no mistake, Severus: I suspected something more was happening between you two. I just didn't acknowledge it because I wasn't entirely convinced. You think I didn't know that she was spending virtually every evening in your office?"

Severus's eyes darkened. "If you're trying to insinuate something—"

"I'm not. But I certainly considered the possibility that Miss Granger may have grown fond of you. I may not have known the extent of the bond you two shared, but I could very well sense how _you_ felt about her, at least."

Severus let out an angry hiss. "You presume too much about your own perceptiveness, Albus."

Dumbledore chuckled at the slight. "Perhaps, but you care about her, Severus, and even if you still try to deny it, Miss Granger _does_ have lingering feelings for you. I'm certain of it."

"Just as you're absolutely sure about everything, even in death!"

"Severus, just seek her out. Tell her."

"_Tell her?_" Severus shot out of his chair, his hands clenched into fits. "I begged to disclose everything to her many times, and you wouldn't hear of it! Having a sudden change of heart, are we?"

"That's not what I mean, Severus. Miss Granger shouldn't know about Voldemort's plans. She can't; it's far too much of a risk for you. But you could at least tell her about what you did for me...

"_Explain it to her, Severus_; she'll come around. Miss Granger is a smart young woman. She won't just shut you down without hearing you out. You'd gain her trust back. Isn't that what you want?"

The echo of whispers from several other portraits made Severus shift uncomfortably. They may all have been dead, but it still didn't make Severus feel any more at ease about them knowing his personal business.

"Of course I want her back," he whispered quietly, his voice rattled with pain and guilt.

His answer didn't match Dumbledore's original question, but to the former Headmaster, that didn't matter. Dumbledore shot him an all-knowing smile; the kind that used to irritate Severus to no end. His blue eyes twinkled.

"So go get her," he urged.

"Why on earth are you encouraging me to do something so precarious?"

"Because I think you've been alone long enough. You _need_ an ally, Severus, and that person is Miss Granger; an intelligent woman who sees past your façade and your faults, and still cares about you, far more than you realize."

"Since when have _you_ ever cared about my well-being or my personal life?" Severus spat angrily. "My reclusive lifestyle never seemed to bother you in the past!"

"I did care, Severus," Dumbledore replied with a twinge of sadness; his eyes became less lively than before. "I wasn't as heartless and inconsiderate an old man as you think."

Severus could feel the burn flushing his cheeks, and it took every fiber of his being to maintain a firm control over his temper. He forcefully closed his eyes and took a deep breath before addressing Dumbledore again.

"It's too late for that, Albus..."

Dumbledore pressed his hands together and gave the dark wizard a guilt-ridden look. "I know, and I am sorry."

Severus sighed heavily and brushed a hand through his hair, thinking over Dumbledore's proposal, unable to deny—at least to himself—just how desperately he really did want to see Hermione again. "This is madness!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Most of my ideas are." Dumbledore smiled again in his charming manner. "Then again, they almost always worked out well in the end, didn't they?"

"There's no guarantee that will happen this time!"

"Naturally. There is no absolute, Severus, only opportunity."

Severus growled, annoyed. "Oh, cut it out! I'm in no mood for your illustrious words of wisdom. I never was!"

"Well, in any case," Dumbledore chuckled, "Miss Granger will listen if you give her the benefit of the doubt, Severus."

"And if my cover is blown?"

Dumbledore stared Severus down over his half-moon spectacles. "You already told her before that you were a spy, Severus. Has Miss Granger used that information to her advantage at all? Does the Dark Lord trust you any less than he did before she knew? How much longer are we going to pretend that you're still debating the matter?"

Severus's pallid face, though disgruntled, altered. An apprehension lingered behind the black eyes, and he quietly replied in a voice seeping with trepidation, "She won't believe me, Albus..."

"That may be so," Dumbledore nodded before his strange smile extended, "but then, would I dare make such a proposal to you if I really thought you to be in any real danger? Or if I didn't believe you had a chance?" He paused, and the two wizards stared long and hard at one another, both cast in a new light. "_She_ still believes in _you_, Severus. She would have already blown your cover if there wasn't some part of her that trusted you. _You know that_. She's the only living, breathing individual who knows who you truly are. What are you waiting for? Go to her. _Now, before it's too late_."

* * *

The trio's plan of sneaking into the Ministry to obtain the locket from Dolores Umbridge was a tricky one and backfired quickly. Ron was splinched during their escape, and the locket had so far proved indestructible and badly affected their moods when they took turns safeguarding it.

Hermione recalled often the brief, limited conversations she had had with Severus about the Horcruxes. Snake venom had destroyed Tom Riddle's diary, but where the hell would they get snake venom now? There had to be another method of destroying it, if only Hermione could put her expertise to work and figure it out.

There was also the fact that Harry and Ron weren't entirely convinced about her theory regarding the snake venom, and Hermione knew why; it was a theory shared by Severus Snape, and neither of the boys were about to go off of _anything_ that 'coldblooded murderer' said.

Hermione bundled herself up as she sat near a crackling fire outside their tent. Harry and Ron had gone to bed hours ago, and the locket was currently being worn around her neck for safekeeping. She could feel the morbid thoughts creeping into her conscious as a result of its dark magic. She had been wearing it for nearly a full day now, and it was definitely affecting her current attitude.

As was usually the case when she wore the ruddy thing, she couldn't get Severus out of her head, and she was miserable about it. The pain was like reliving the shock and magnitude of what he had done all over again, and she was exhausted with feeling this way all the time. Even when she wasn't wearing the locket, her torn misery and yearning for Severus Snape was never far away. Her closest friends had no idea, not an inkling that she had fallen in love with a murderer, their former professor, the most hated man in the wizarding world, or that she was still heartsick over him...

Hermione wasn't really sure where she was at right now with Ron, but ever since they had been on the run in search of Horcruxes, he had been quite tender and attentive towards her. And in light of his recent injury, Hermione was attentive back.

Was it because she was lonely? Was it even genuine? She hated not being able to decipher her own feelings. Having Ron's affection was nice, and yet, it didn't quite feel right.

She had to get over Severus. An entire summer had come and gone without a trace of his whereabouts, except for that fateful night back in July when he had saved her from breaking her neck. There was no reason for her to care for or want the man now. He was an assassinator and a supposedly very violent Headmaster now as well, which she found shocking and appalling. He had lied to her about where his allegiance truly laid; or had he? Was that _really_ all an act? It felt so genuine at the time...

She had Ron, a strapping young man who still cared about her. Sure, he could be a prat and really childish at times, but he was attracted to her. And he didn't lie...

So Hermione indulged his efforts. She allowed him to hold her hand, to speak softly and lovingly to her when they were by themselves, which wasn't very often, or wrap an arm around her shoulder and hold her tight. By all accounts, she wanted to be brought into a warm embrace. She just wasn't sure if it was Ron's hugs and affection that she really craved. Not when she still thought of _him_. All the time.

"You're still attracted to a murderer and a liar," she snorted aloud into the foreboding darkness, staring at the trees that were starting to go bare and change with the oncoming winter season. "You need to move past this, Hermione. He's not who you thought he was. And he's not a good man. _He's not worthy of your love_."

Hermione's breath hitched, traces of it evident in the air, when she suddenly heard several twigs crack somewhere nearby. Raising her wand, her eyes scanned the darkness surrounding her for any signs of movement. Nothing.

Hermione's body froze as her sensitive ears listened for any further sounds, but eventually her shoulders relaxed. It was probably just an animal scrounging for food. The tent was invisible anyhow, and she had made sure to place more than enough protective enchantments around them to prevent anyone from discovering their location.

Just as she finally relaxed and settled back into the warmth of the fire, she heard snapping twigs again, and this time, they sounded like definite footsteps. She shot to her feet, her heart pounding so hard it throbbed in her ears. She didn't really want to move from this spot, but forced her legs to take several steps and started scanning the area.

Then she felt it. Something—_someone_—pressing against her enchantments, trying to break through. She let out an involuntary gasp and whipped her head about, looking for any signs that might confirm what she was already dreading.

_This is impossible! How could anyone find us?_

Someone had undoubtedly broken through. Every magical fiber in her being told her so. Never straying too far from the tent, Hermione had her wand at the ready, but, so far, hadn't spotted anything. Then, out of nowhere, she caught something moving fast to her right. She whipped her head around, squinted, and, sure enough, she saw the outline of a silhouette moving swiftly between the trees.

Her heart dropped into her stomach, but her adrenaline kicked in fast, and she made a mad dash after the source of the noise. If someone was following them, or had discovered their whereabouts, she would have to get to them before they got to the Dark Lord, a Death Eater, or Snatchers. If they were trying to get away from her, then they couldn't be someone on their side.

The figure was darting fast in between the trees, so Hermione quickened her pace and sprinted after the figure as fast as she could. "_HEY!_" she cried out.

It probably wasn't smart to attract the person's attention, but it was too dangerous; she couldn't let whoever they were get away. She hurled a leg-locking jinx towards the intruder or spy or whoever they were, but as if sensing it barreling towards them from behind, the figure darted sideways and avoided her attempt to stun.

"I SEE YOU!" she growled, sending another handful of stunning spells towards the figure.

But to her astonishment, the person suddenly whirled around and blocked all of her attempts, with a stunning precision and ease that threw her for a loop. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and stared, her wand at the ready and her breathing heavy.

"WHO ARE YOU?" she demanded, but then, to her dismay, the silhouette suddenly contorted. "_NO!_" She sent a spell towards the figure to try and stop their escape, but it was too late.

With a loud pop, the figure Disapparated, leaving Hermione in the middle of the woods, now far away from the confines of their protective enchantments. Panic immediately settled into her mind. Whoever they were, they had discovered her, and more than likely knew who she was, and that Harry was with her.

Hermione sprang back to the tent as fast she could, woke a disgruntled Harry and Ron, and packed up their belongings as fast as she could. They would have to find another location. They were no longer safe here.

* * *

_You coward, Severus! You bloody coward! Damn it! Now you're going to lose her and have to go searching for them all over again. DAMN IT!_

Severus paced his office and snarled out loud, whipping his cloak back and forth as he stomped within the confines of his office. He had left almost immediately to seek the young lady out and confess everything, to try and gain back Hermione's trust, and it had taken him nearly a full day to track down her whereabouts. Her protective enchantments were impressive, he had to admit, and it proved more than a little discouraging, but as soon as he penetrated her shield, she seemed to sense his approach.

_And now..._

As soon as he took in the sight of the miserable Gryffindor seated on the cold ground, in the middle of the night, with a look of misery on her beautiful face that he had never seen before, Severus's confidence depleted. He reconsidered the whole foolish adventure he had undertaken and as soon as she drew close, he ran.

Severus Snape never ran from anything or anyone, and yet, he had run away from _her. Ran like a bloody coward!_

The Carrows inquired as to where he had gone, but they were thicker than Severus originally considered, and believed him on a whim when he lied about being on some mission for the Dark Lord. He would have to use that excuse if he were ever to muster up the courage to confront Hermione again. But for now, he simply couldn't.

"I _am_ a coward!" he hissed, when Dumbledore's portrait suddenly disrupted his badgering thoughts.

"No, you're not."

"I am! And I won't do it again. I - I can't face her, Albus. I just can't."

"Why ever not?"

"She looked positively miserable, Albus, and it's probably all on account of _me!_ It's all my fault! I hurt everything I touch. I won't go after Hermione; I'll just bring her more pain and misery by doing so. Better that she forget about me and focus on what she has to do!"

"Severus—"

"I don't need to receive confirmation of how much she despises me!"

"Severus, stop this. Think rationally."

"I AM!"

"I'm afraid you're not."

"I won't be selfish like you, Albus! It was a grave mistake to go looking for her in the first place. I have enough riding on me right now as it is! I can't be bothered with hunting down a woman half my age who shouldn't even think twice about me, let alone return my affections. She deserves better!"

"Severus, that's a mistake. Yes, you recoiled, but she needs to know. She deserves to know. After everything you disclosed to her, after everything you shared with her, it's the least you can do."

"Don't lecture me, Albus!_ You_ have no right!"

"You're right, I don't, but when the Headmaster is not thinking clearly or making the right decisions, or is about to make a terrible blunder as you are, it's our duty to step in and offer advice."

Several of the other portraits concurred, each making their sentiments known with an emphatic nod or remark. Severus curled his upper lip and narrowed his eyes at them before settling on Dumbledore again.

"You toyed with me enough in life, Albus; I won't let you do so now that you're dead and gone!"

"Severus, please—"

"LEAVE ME ALONE! FOR MERLIN'S SAKE, JUST LET ME BE! _I'VE DONE ENOUGH FOR YOU!_"

Severus stomped off to his bedroom chambers, leaving Dumbledore's portrait stumped and saddened by the pained wizard's outburst. When he got up from his seat to move into another portrait in Severus's room, several other former Headmasters stopped him, Armando Dippet amongst them.

"No, Albus. Let the poor man alone. Let him be."

"Armando—"

"He needs more time, Albus. He hasn't forsaken Miss Granger yet; he's just too bitter and resentful for any of this to come from you. He's still torturing himself over what you forced him into."

"I didn't—"

"Encouragement will need to come from someone else; someone the man trusts and will listen to."

Dumbledore cocked his head. "And whom do you propose, Armando?"

The frail-looking former Headmaster gave a meek nod, and a mischievous twinkle all his own. "I think I know just the person..."

* * *

**A/N #2: Hopefully he can be re-persuaded...**


	28. Murderer

**A/N: So those of you who guessed think it's Phineas Black, eh? Interesting...  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 28: Murderer**

"Sir?"

"Come in, Draco."

The young Malfoy entered the new Headmaster's office, looking a little sheepish; or perhaps it was nerves. He walked over to Severus's desk, where the dark wizard was hunched over reading an owl, with what looked like a very disappointed scowl. His eyes were squinted, and he paused mid-read to survey his godson, his obsidian eyes glistening against the soft moonlight trickling in from a nearby window.

Severus had never seen the boy in worse shape. There were dark circles beneath Draco's eyes, much like Severus's own, and he looked quite tired, rattled, and even broken, much like his father. It was disheartening to witness, but Severus was hardly surprised. The boy had seen and heard far too much for someone of his age, and as far as Severus was concerned, Lucius should never have brought his son into their circle at all. As Narcissa had once implored to Severus, he was "just a boy"; Severus didn't necessarily agree with that assumption, but wanted to help Draco as much as he was capable of doing, discretely, to try and prevent Draco from being subjected to too much. It proved all but impossible, and now Draco was an easily spooked, fragile seventh year, forced to participate in dreadful, often violent events he should never have been a part of.

"Have a seat," Severus instructed, his voice assertive, yet gentle, a tone reserved only for his godson.

Once Draco was properly situated, he grunted to clear his throat. "How are things going for you, sir?"

Severus's eyes narrowed with slight apprehension. "Well enough, Draco, thank you. What can I help you with? I'm rather tied up at the moment."

"Sorry, sir, I won't keep you long, I just..." He took a short moment to survey the room, as if he expected someone else to be present. "I wanted to talk to you about something; something I'd wanted to ask you about when my father and I stopped by your house over the summer."

"Yes?"

Draco shifted in his chair and scratched his head. "It - It's about Granger, sir."

There was a momentary flicker in Severus's eyes, too quick for the boy to notice. "Miss Granger?" he asked disinterestedly. "What about her?"

"Um, well, back in July, shortly after Potter made his escape to the Burrow, I overheard the Dark Lord speaking to my parents and Aunt Bellatrix, along with a handful of others. You weren't there. It was a private conversation between family, but a few showed up, so the Dark Lord brought them into the discussion..."

_A meeting without me?_ Severus's nerves heightened, but his reflection was aloof and hardly bothered to the student seated across from him. _That's very unusual. Why wouldn't the Dark Lord have included me?_

Almost as if Draco had read his mind, despite Severus's emotionless reaction, he continued nervously, "They were talking about this whole plan involving Granger—nothing that hasn't already been decided upon—but then," he paused to give a nervous twitch, "the conversation sort of turned to _you_, sir..."

"Me?" Severus inquired, his brow furrowing. "What about me?"

"Well, I - I couldn't hear everything, and for all I know, the Dark Lord might have known I was listening, but my aunt and father were stressing to him that, um, you didn't seem to truly be on board with this whole idea. The Dark Lord defended you, but the more they pressed the issue, the - the more the Dark Lord's mind seemed to waver. I'm not sure how much he believed, but my father and aunt seem to be under the impression that you, erm, _care_ about Miss Granger, sir; that you won't go through with this plan because you've grown _fond_ of her; that you have other plans in mind..."

Severus's hands, hidden behind his desk and in his lap, knotted together; at the same time, his mouth drew into a firm bind. He considered Draco for a moment, thinking over how best to address this misgiving.

How the hell had Bellatrix and Lucius drawn such a conclusion? How did they even know how much time Hermione and he had spent together? The answer came swift and unforgiving to his sharp mind: _Draco_.

"What did you tell your father, Draco?"

The young Slytherin flinched timidly. "Sir?"

"I won't repeat myself," Severus snarled with more feeling. "Answer my question."

"I... Um, well, Aunt Bellatrix questioned me during the school year about your, erm, activities; what you were up to. I swear, sir, all I said was that Granger was spending a lot of detentions with you, and that she deserved it, but when Aunt Bellatrix asked more about her, I - I told her how Granger was Muggle-born, and _that_ seemed to set her on the path that you're not really one of us. That you were helping her..."

The anxiety mangled in Draco's reply was confirmation to Severus that the boy didn't necessarily believe either his aunt or his father on that point, but it did little to settle the mounting stress that was now making his chest ache. He crossed one leg over the other and stared Draco down in an intimidating fashion that made the boy recoil in his chair.

"That psychotic aunt of yours is mistaken, as usual. I care nothing for Granger, Draco. She was a headache, and her detentions were an absolute thorn in my side. She never listened and routinely tried to undermine my authority, so she stayed in detention for most of term; her loss, and mine as well."

"I - I figured that much, sir..."

"Then why are you telling me all this, Draco?"

His voice was calm and collected, and it eased Draco into divulging without much issue this time. "Because I... I don't want to see you get hurt, sir." His response was so soft Severus almost hadn't heard; he blinked several times, admittedly struck down by his godson's regard. "I know what my father's like. He's more paranoid than ever since losing the Prophecy. He sees everyone as his enemy now, including you. My mum doesn't really know what to think anymore, to be honest, and her nerves are shot. I don't know how much more of this she can withstand. And I..."

Draco's voice trailed off, and his forlorn eyes slunk to the floor. It was enough to instill in Severus a tenderness he never outright bestowed on his godson before. He finished the boy's sentence in a subdued, quiet manner.

"You want no part of any of this."

Draco slowly met Severus's gaze, but then his reaction was swift. His eyes widened in horror.

"P - Please, sir! Please don't tell the Dark Lord! It's not that I don't wa - want to be a Death Eater, _honestly!_ I—"

"Draco, calm down." Severus raised a hand to silence the ruffled seventh year, a bit saddened that Draco didn't seem to believe his intentions; not entirely. "I took the Unbreakable Vow for you; I stopped the Dark Lord from surely finishing you off last summer, remember?" He waited for the ease to surface on Draco's stricken, ashen face. "I won't share any of this with anyone. You have my word. I'm not out to harm you, and I appreciate your discretion in telling me these things."

To say that he was relieved would be a severe understatement. Draco let out a prolonged sigh of alleviation. And Severus sat back in his chair, putting his hand to the bridge of his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut, and Draco thought perhaps he might be fighting off a headache of some sort. He knew how much Legilimency and Occlumency Severus was performing, practically round-the-clock when in the Dark Lord's presence.

"Your lunatic Aunt Bellatrix will be my undoing," he lamented with a tired growl that caught Draco unprepared. He had never heard such frankness from the man before.

"I'm sorry, sir," he replied, his insides mangled by guilt. There certainly wasn't much he could do or change about the situation. His own life was outside of his control. "She'll turn on any one of us if the opportunity presents itself. My aunt _is_ a loon. She doesn't care, and she doesn't think."

"On both points, I agree."

Severus kept his eyes tightly shut, and as he did so, Draco quickly scanned the portraits hanging above him. He caught sight of one in particular who, in his quiet way, encouraged Draco to keep talking; so he did.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Do you..." He swallowed before mustering the courage to continue his question. "Do you _really_ care nothing for Granger?"

Severus opened his weary eyes, which met Draco's with a strange intensity and uneasiness that the boy didn't understand. To a certain know-it-all, it would have been much easier to decipher. The hand that had been pinching his nose clamped up.

"No, Draco, I do not," he managed through gritted teeth. But Draco seemed to have found his footing, in part thanks to his godfather's discretion, and eased forward in his chair.

"Sir, I - I wouldn't tell anyone if you did; not my father, my crazy aunt, the Dark Lord. _Not anyone_."

Severus felt his chest starting to constrict. He almost felt dizzy. He forced himself to blink several times and snarled, affronted.

"What on earth are you going on about—"

"Sir, you don't have to lie to me. I - I'm not my father." A deep frown drew across his mouth. "Or, at least, I pray that I'm not..."

"Draco, I have no idea what you're—"

"Look, I'm just going to be frank with you, sir. _I know_."

"What?"

"I know about you and Granger. It's, um, shocking, I'll admit, but I suppose... Well, I guess considering your sharp minds, it's not as big of a stretch as I thought.

"Only, I really thought you truly hated Muggle-borns. I would never have guessed..." He scrunched up his nose, not with disgust, more with confoundedness. "_You_ and _Granger_."

"I haven't the slightest idea of what you're on about!" Severus barked, his cheeks starting to glow despite his best efforts to prevent his disclosure. His heart was pounding against his chest now, and his hands were instinctively ready to reach for his wand and obliterate this grave revelation from the boy's mind at any second.

"Sir, it's all right." Draco threw up his hand, catching a glimpse of the ferocious gleam in Severus's eyes. "I won't tell anyone! I swear it! I actually came here to—"

"_To what?_ What exactly are you accusing me of, Draco? I have no patience for this anymore!"

Severus started to rise from the Headmaster's chair, but to his surprise, Draco was even quicker than he. He jumped out of his chair and laid his hands on Severus's desk, desperate for his godfather to hear him out.

"Sir, wait! I - I came here to encourage you to do whatever you can to help her. I still don't like the girl—not at all, really—and I have no idea what you see in her, but that's beside the point! I - I don't want to see anyone get hurt, sir. I don't care if it's Potter, Weaselbee, or Granger. _I really don't_.

"Please, sir," he implored, his pitch reaching a dire level, "you_ have_ to help her! If you truly care about her at all, then go to her! I know you can. Warn her before it's too late!"

Severus Snape may have appeared calm on the outside, but inwardly he was nearing the point of hysteria. This was all too dangerous. Draco had figured out too much. He wasn't even sure how the hell the idiot boy had discovered his sentiments for Hermione, but this was all too close. _Far too close_.

Severus reached for his wand in one graceful wave, and before Draco knew what hit him, he was met with the Headmaster's wand pointed directly at his face. Draco froze, his eyes going wide with dread. Even his skin, already pale and unnatural, had gone a shade whiter.

"Who told you?" Severus hissed, fully prepared to obliterate this conversation once he extracted the information he needed.

"I..." Draco's mouth was parched; all his lips could do were quiver.

"_Answer me!_"

Draco cowered and stumbled backward, collapsing into his chair again. His shaking hand pointed towards something almost directly above Severus's head. The wizard kept his wand directed at the frightened boy whilst his eyes scanned the portraits in disbelief.

Armando Dippet was a dead giveaway. He darted his eyes sheepishly, half sinking into his chair.

"_You!_" Severus exclaimed, his own hands starting to tremble with rage.

"Just a second, Severus—"

"Why the hell would you give up my secret? Why would you do this? _WHY?_"

There was no use trying to do much of anything, except perhaps blast the man's portrait into a black hole; a very tempting thought, indeed. Dippet, however, didn't appear fit to address him. Instead, it was Dumbledore who spoke up on his behalf.

"Calm down, Severus. Think collectedly, for just one moment."

"_What?_"

"Since you wouldn't listen to me, it had to be someone else. Someone you can trust. When Dippet suggested Draco, I knew it was the right decision. We would_ never_ give you up so recklessly. You are the Headmaster, Severus, and every one of us is loyal to you. Don't threaten the boy. He's only trying to help. And he has sworn himself to secrecy, for that matter."

"His word is nothing! _NOTHING!_" Severus crowed, shooting Draco a deadly glare that actually made the boy cry out. "He will tell his father about this, I'm sure! Or Bellatrix will _Crucio_ it out of him with ease!"

"S - Sir, I won't—"

"_BE SILENT!_"

"Severus..."

Severus thrashed his head upward to meet Dumbledore's portrait, curling his upper lip, his nostrils flaring. Dumbledore, as usual, and as irksome to Severus as always, sat with an exuded patience and restraint.

"You should return to Miss Granger. Give it another try. Give her a chance before you rebuke her for good and do something you will always regret."

"Albus, I—"

"You have nothing to lose."

"I have everything to lose!" Severus hitched a breath and fought to keep his composure in check, shutting his eyes momentarily. "I have already lost her! There's nothing to gain!"

"There is _everything_ to gain," Dippet squeaked.

Severus's eyes reopened, but his breathing had grown excited, and, in rare form, he looked relatively frightened as he stared up at all the former Headmasters and Headmistresses, each one encouraging him to make the right choice, a choice he was unable to see for himself.

"Sir," came Draco's weak voice from across the divide. Severus quickly turned around, keeping his wand firmly aimed. "I meant what I said. I - I have no intention of saying anything. I swear it. I know my - my word's no good to you, but you - you saved my life... Twice. I owe you, sir. I won't breathe a word, I promise. _Please!_"

Severus's eyes narrowed; he was still beyond paranoid and upset at this point, and was hardly fit to think rationally over the situation, but the echoes of support that floated around the room were finally starting to hammer through to him. They spoke of possibility, of a window of opportunity, of a glimmer of _hope_.

After several minutes, the pounding in Severus's chest began to subside. His breathing evened out. His conscience suddenly became clear. There were still far too many reservations and hesitations lingering in the back of his mind, but if this were to be the mistake that cost Severus his life, at least it would be in pursuit of the young woman he had grown to love; that vivacious creature who stirred something long dead within him, bringing him back to life again.

It was only then that the realization finally dawned on Severus. He was, indeed, irrevocably in love with her; in love in a manner he had never been before.

_Hermione..._

Severus breathed a sigh, focusing on that infectious laughter of hers that used to ring elatedly in his ears. That gorgeous smile that lit up her face, like sunlight peeking through dark clouds. Those eyes that could penetrate through, straight to the very heart of him; they didn't survey him with disgust or loathing of any kind. _Only love_.

'There is everything to gain,' Dippet had said.

How true could those sentiments be? Severus took another collected breath before he turned to Draco, who was gripping his chair, his knuckles turning white. The boy was beyond petrified, waiting for the Headmaster to stun him into the next life.

"Forgive me, Draco," he muttered, though only half sincere. "I didn't mean to lose my temper with you."

Draco took his apology at face value; his shoulders relaxed a little and his eyes filled with relief that perhaps the dangerous, overpowering wizard wouldn't kill him after all. But then Severus strode to him in only one or two steps. He snatched his godson up by the collar and planted Draco's face mere inches from his own. Draco held his breath and tried to keep his lips from trembling again.

"If you breathe a word of this to anyone—to any of your wretched housemates, your mother, or even your bloody cat—I will personally make sure that it's the last secret you ever disclose in this lifetime." Severus's threat was hushed, smooth, and easily felt by the younger Slytherin as he stared wide-eyed into the wizard's darkened face. "Do we understand each other?"

"Y - Yes, s - sir. I promise."

"Good."

Severus unclasped his hand from Draco's clothes, and the boy actually dropped several inches to the floor. He had been picked up by the Headmaster, who towered over him by several inches, and he haphazardly readjusted his cloak and backed away.

"You may go, Draco," Severus commanded, giving him a final dangerous glare.

Draco didn't hesitate for a moment. He dashed out of the room, half stumbling as he threw open the door. His quick footsteps echoed down the spiral staircase. Severus slammed the door shut with an elegant flick of the wrist and stared after where Draco disappeared for a long time.

_Hermione... What will she think? What will she do? You know what she'll do, Severus. She'll reject you—_

"Severus," he heard someone call to him from behind. It was Dumbledore. "Don't delay this any longer. Go now before you change your mind and we are forced to put the poor boy through another round of hell, just to get you to see reason."

* * *

Hermione and Ron sat huddled together outside the tent, conversing quietly as Harry stewed inside. He and Ron had been at each other's throats for some time, in a roundabout way, and Hermione was starting to fall apart at the seams. This was the last thing the trio needed. She and Ron had made a promise to help Harry, but Ron was degrading him at every whim, and every second Harry was out of earshot. Hermione would reject Ron's harsh commentary, but the ginger's foul attitude was starting to affect her as well.

"He doesn't know what the bloody hell he's doing, does he?" he spat, easing his hand up and down Hermione's arm to keep her warm.

"Stop it, Ron," Hermione pleaded. "None of us do. We're all doing the best we can here—"

"How could Dumbledore not tell Harry_ anything_ on how to destroy them though? Don't you find that incredibly odd, 'Mione?"

"Of course I do. But..."

"What?"

"I suppose—maybe—Dumbledore ran out of time. He probably would have if..."

"If Snape hadn't killed him."

The words were so harsh, so unpardonable. How Hermione would ever be able to make sense of what Severus did would astound even _her_ at this point, if that ever came to be. Her mind seemed determined to come up with some irrational explanation. But of course, the logical part of her brain wouldn't concede.

_Leave it to me to try and dissect the mind of a killer!_

A part of Hermione still admittedly ached for him, and _that_ was all wrong. Ron was here now, and he loved her. _Really_ loved her. That should have been enough; more than enough. There was absolutely no rhyme or reason to give two shits worth a piss about Severus Snape anymore. She needed to get over him. It was now late November; she should have been over the evil wizard months ago. The moment he killed the former Headmaster and abandoned the school to its ruin, Hermione should have turned her back on him without question.

_This_, Hermione's mind berated her, _was totally and utterly ridiculous._

"Yes," she managed to return back, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself.

It had nothing to do with the winter cold. It was the terrible pang in the middle of her chest every time Harry or Ron spoke the man's name—with such vindictiveness and contempt—or when she would overhear the utterance coming through the beat up radio Ron carried around with him. She simply wasn't over him yet, and certainly couldn't forget what the wizard had done.

_Damn it, Hermione. You are irrational and a fool. No wonder it was so easy for Severus to play you the way that he did! You're far too gullible!_

"'Mione?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think we'll ever find these Horcruxes."

Hermione blinked and faced Ron anew. She hadn't expected him to say _that_, of all things.

"What?" she breathed tentatively.

"You don't seriously believe we have a chance anymore, do you?"

"Ron," Hermione's eyes darted to the locket wrapped securely around his neck, sensing where such defeated thoughts were _really_ coming from. "Take it off. You've worn it long enough for today. Give it here."

Ron grumbled something under his breath but removed the locket at once. He placed it carefully in her outstretched hand, but his own delicately wrapped itself around hers. Hermione flinched and instinctively moved her hand away before catching what she was doing. She took a deep breath and allowed Ron to hold tight to her hand.

This was normal. This was what they should be doing. Only Ron felt much more at ease with touching her than she did of him. A pang of guilt washed over her when she caught sight of his confused reaction.

"Sorry," she muttered, turning her attention to their intertwined hands. If she met his gaze again, she might be entirely overrun with regret.

"Why do you _still_ have such a hard time letting me touch you, 'Mione? Am I doing something wrong?"

"No," Hermione answered hastily, hating the evident hurt in Ron's voice. "I'm sorry, I'm just... It's new to me, Ron. Last time we were together, I - I had a lot on my mind, and we didn't actually spend this much time together. I'm just not used to this is all. You have to be patient with me. Please?"

"Erm, all right, yeah, sure."

"Thanks."

She removed her hand from his and wrapped the locket around her neck. She additionally pulled her scarf around the chain so as to hide the Horcrux from view.

Ron leaned forward, most likely to plant a kiss on her lips, something he had done only a handful of times as Hermione felt far too uneasy with him doing so. Hermione braced herself with discomfort when an assortment of twigs snapped somewhere nearby, sparing her lips from receiving his.

Ron and Hermione immediately shot to their feet, their wands gripped in their opposite hands. Their frantic eyes scanned the woods for any sign of movement, but it was dark, and well after midnight. The light of the moon provided very little exposure in this kind of darkness; they were very deep into the woods, far away from any human contact, and the further they delved, the gloomier and more foreboding the forest became.

"I heard it," Ron whispered, darting around her, moving fast, "over here."

Hermione followed his lead. For several minutes, they stalked around the tent, splitting up to cover more ground, but when they finally met back up again near the crackling fire, neither had spotted anything out of the ordinary.

Hermione was on edge, however, remembering when she had spotted that hooded figure in the trees before. Could it be that he or she had found their latest hiding spot?

_Impossible_, her alerted mind concluded.

There were more than enough protective enchantments in place. And they never left any trace of their whereabouts behind. None of them were under the Trace anymore, so the chances of getting caught felt relatively slim, for the most part; and yet, there had been several close calls already.

Both let out the breaths they had been holding, settling back into the warmth of the fire when they heard nothing else echo from the slumbering forest. "You should get some sleep," Hermione encouraged him. "You were on duty last night, and you're still not entirely recouped from getting splinched."

"I'll be all right." Ron waved her concern away with a half-smile.

"It's all right, Ron. I can handle it, really. We didn't find anything; it was probably a squirrel scrounging for food."

"Yeah, probably." Ron looked her over with concern. "You sure you'd be all right if I slept for a couple hours?"

"Yes, of course. Go ahead. I'll be fine."

Ron lingered another moment before softly pecking her cheek. He seemed to be able to read their awkward exchanges better, knowing when she was all right with him kissing or touching her, and other times when it wasn't suitable. For now, Hermione didn't seem to be at ease, so Ron let it go. He disappeared inside the tent and quickly fell asleep.

Hermione bundled up, grabbing an extra blanket to heat her frigid limbs. If tonight was any indication of how bad this winter was going to be, then it would be a very grueling several more months searching for ruddy Horcruxes.

Hermione allowed her mind to wander. She was still half listening for any intruders, and was just consuming her mind again with reflections on the past year—with Severus—when she unexpectedly heard several more splintering twigs. Her body reacted like clockwork. She sprung to her feet, wand outstretched in front of her.

"Just like last time," she murmured aloud, her breath catching the air, as her heart pounded relentlessly in her ears.

Hermione walked straight ahead towards the sound of the noise and was soon quite far away from the tent, but still within the safety of the protective shields she had placed. Her active eyes darted this way and that, unconsciously scanning for the same hooded figure she saw before. She turned around towards the tent, continuing to look for the source of the noise, when she heard it.

Snapping. Cracking. Footsteps. _Close_. Far too close.

Hermione spun around with her wand drawn. She felt their shield breaking and, sure enough, just as she feared, she caught the glimpse of someone standing several feet away and began casting spells without hesitation. She thought she heard the elusive figure shout something at her—perhaps a curse—but everything happened too quickly to make much coherent sense. Whoever the person was—she could make out that he was male based on his height—he was able to block all of her spells with ease. And the way his arms waved this way and that to block her advances was oddly familiar.

Hermione swiftly comprehended that the figure wasn't sending anything back at her, only shielding himself from whatever she cast. She chanced a pause in her incantations to see who the person was before deciding whether or not to hex him again, and as she did so, she nearly dropped her wand on the spot.

"_Severus!_" she gasped, a mixture of emotions surfacing upon her stricken face, which had gone white as a sheet.

Severus Snape stood on the brink of the open wooded area where Hermione was, several feet away with his wand at his side. Even in the dark of night, that black cloak and frock coat were distinguishable, as was the equally dark hair and stark eyes that once captivated her so completely.

He stood as still as a statue as his eyes bore into hers. He looked every bit the dangerous wizard, his magic reverberating off of him with a power unmatched by anyone she knew. Despite the abrupt skip in her heartbeat, her mind screamed at her not to dare chance lowering her wand. The man was a murderer, and not the person she once took him for.

When he said nothing, Hermione whispered, stammering to form the words on her tongue, "Wh - What are you doing here? How did you find me? _How?_"

"Hermione," he purred back in that infectious voice, making her legs weaken before she quickly came to her senses.

He took a cautious step forward, and she straightened her arm. "DON'T MOVE! Don't come any closer!"

Severus conceded, but kept his intense focus. "Hermione, please, might I speak to you?"

"_Speak_ to me?" she repeated, scrunching up her nose, bewildered.

_What the hell? This is the same man who killed Albus Dumbledore? He just showed up in the middle of the night, and all he wants is_ _to_ talk_?_

"Yes," he replied. She half-expected him to have read her mind. "I just want to speak to you, Hermione, and then I'll be gone forever. You never have to see or hear from me again... If you wish."

"What? I... I don't understand."

"I just want to talk. Please?" His voice sounded abnormally strained, and she was struggling as it were to make out his silhouette in the darkness. "I won't hurt you, Hermione. I haven't come here to do anything of the sort. Please hear me out, won't you? _Please?_"

Hermione didn't lower her wand. She _wanted_ to trust him—her heart was desperate to, even now—but her mind warned against such foolishness. The second she lowered her defenses, he would kill her. He wouldn't hesitate. This was all an act. Just like everything else. Just like everything he had ever said and done; _one great outlandish series of lies._

"So you came to seek out where we're hiding, is that it?" she baited through a clenched jaw.

Her anger radiated off her like fire, the bitterness written all over her mangled expression. It put Severus's stomach in knots to be on the receiving end of so much revulsion in her eyes; those caramel irises, once so loving and warm, were now cold and empty.

_And it's all your fault, Severus. You did this to her. Look at what you've done..._

"No, Hermione," he whispered, exceedingly soft and gentle, "I have no plans to tell the Dark Lord where you are. I promise you—"

"_HA!_" Hermione's outburst startled him into silence. It was so very unnatural; not at all like the Hermione he knew, or so he thought. "That's a good one! What the hell do you take me for?"

"Hermione—"

"The second I lower my wand, you'll kill me, you'll murder Ron, and then you'll take Harry directly to that psychopath you worship, won't you?"

"Hermione—"

"_WON'T YOU?_"

"No! I have no intention—"

"_SHUT UP!_" she exclaimed, losing her composure fast. Her wand was now trembling within her grasp, and her eyes were burning with tears she had buried for far too long. "Just shut up! _You lied to me!_ All that time, you were playing me, weren't you?"

"Hermione, no!" His plea was desperate, but it only brought more tears to the surface.

"_YOU DID_, DIDN'T YOU? You know, you're very good at it, Severus Snape. I'll give you that! I _was_ a fool! A complete and utter idiot girl whom you sought advantage—"

"No, that's not true—"

"—because I was best friends with the Chosen One; with Harry!"

"That's not—"

"You used me! You strung me along and played me! I applaud your efforts, Severus! YOU WIN!"

"Hermione, please!" Severus threw up his hands, which were now trembling, too, though Hermione couldn't really see them all that clearly. "I never meant to hurt you—"

"_BOLLOCKS!_"

"I didn't, Hermione! I swear to you—"

"SHUT UP! I don't want to hear your lies!"

"They aren't lies—"

"Oh, you really are a bastard! You _really_ are!"

"Hermione, I implore you—"

"DON'T! You have no right!"

"You're right, I don't, but please just hear me—"

"_NO!_ I don't want to listen to anything you have to say! It's all hogwash! It's all lies! _You_ were a lie!"

Severus was crushed. He expected her to put up a fight, and no doubt to be quite perturbed with him—she had every right to be—but she was much angrier than even _he_ expected. The rage surging in her wet eyes that colored her cheeks and made her drawn arm quiver was confirmation of just how much she despised him, and no doubt of how hurt she was from his actions.

"I - I wasn't a lie, Hermione," he tried to convey very softly, detesting how vulnerable and weak he sounded. "I wasn't. I - I swear it..."

The tears finally began to fall, and Hermione took in a sharp gulp of air before she managed to blurt out, her voice trembling and wrought with pain, "You tricked me into falling in love with you! I'm a mess! Look what you've done to me! _LOOK AT ME! You_ did this to me! _YOU BASTARD!_ You cold, selfish, heartless bastard! How could you? Wh - Why did you do this to me? _WHY?_"

Her cries of agony mixed with the visible tears that now cascaded down her cheeks were the final blow. Severus all but felt his heart being ripped from his chest. He wanted to go to her, but couldn't chance it. She would most surely hurt him, possibly kill even, if he tried. There was nothing for it.

"Hermione, please," he managed, his voice catching at the back of his throat, "I never tried to trick you into anything. I _never_ meant to hurt you. _Ever_. Please, Hermione. I - I'm so sorry..."

"YOU'RE SORRY?" she half screamed, half sobbed. "_YOU'RE SORRY?_"

Severus was bereft of what else to say. He felt as raw as she looked, and could hardly grasp at words. "I..." he tried, but failed miserably.

"You - You - You..." Hermione struggled, her mouth opening and closing, the fire burning her skin as it crept up through her chest straight to her flushed, moistened face. "You foul, loathsome, evil—"

"Hermione, _don't!_"

"—BLOODY MURDERER!"

The air around them fell silent; Hermione breathing heavily, her sobs pouring out in unforgivable waves, Severus staring at her without blinking, without any glimmer of emotion whatsoever. Or so Hermione thought, until he stumbled forward and, to her shock and confusion, collapsed to his knees.

The moonlight seeping through the trees was enough to allow Hermione to finally make out Severus's face, pallid and almost translucent, with that striking nose and deep-seated scowl she was so familiar with. Only it wasn't a bitter scowl that he wore, it was one of misery and anguish as Hermione had never seen.

"I... I'm not... I didn't..."

Severus shut his mouth and didn't even attempt to explain. He couldn't. The pain that ripped through every bone in his body was far too great. His eyes suddenly began to shimmer in the gloom, and Hermione caught sight of what she thought were tears. It shook her to her very foundation. He wasn't crying, but there were—without a doubt—tears brewing in his eyes, and an expression of sorrow and remorse she didn't at all expect from the coldhearted man, now sunken in a heap on the ground.

"I... I didn't kill him..." his pained voice uttered after a while, as Hermione unconsciously lowered her wand a little. "I... I didn't, Hermione... Please... Please believe me..."

His arm reached out to her, causing her to startle and rear back. When Severus saw the slight recoil from the young woman he loved, his arm collapsed to his side in defeat. It was no use. She hated him, had no interest in hearing the truth, and had proclaimed him to be the enemy. _Her enemy_. She had already made up her mind, just like the rest of the wizarding world. He had no right to expect anything different or better from her, and he knew it.

Something in that gut-wrenching, dejected expression of his spoke to Hermione across the stifling gap that divided them from one another. Something tangible—something Hermione _remembered_ about him—was present in that moment; something she actually believed in, and not just because her heart so desperately wanted to.

_Maybe—just maybe—he was telling the truth? But that... That's absurd!_

To her dismay, Severus abruptly turned away from her, his head hung low as he practically crawled his way several feet before struggling to stand. He gripped a nearby stump for balance and progressed slowly away from her, back into the shadows of the forest, leaving her as promised, without a sound or a word or even a farewell.

Hermione panicked. He would be gone any moment now, and she would never have this opportunity again. As hurt and enraged as she was, a part of her still didn't want him to leave; a deeply wounded part of her still ached to have him back, still yearned to look at him one last time before he officially disappeared from her life.

She stepped forward, throwing her wand down to her side at last. "Severus!" she called out, barely able to decipher him from between the trees anymore. "_Severus, wait!_"

Hermione thought she saw him halt at her command, his head gradually turning in her direction, but that was about all she could make out. Hermione's mind screamed to hold back, to make a run for it, to go back to the tent, wake Harry and Ron and Disapparate as quickly as possible. But she didn't. Hermione didn't do the rational thing she was supposed to do—or normally would have done—for once. Instead, she ran to him, sprung for him in the darkness, and made a mad dash towards the Death Eater who had murdered their beloved Headmaster without so much as a flicker of reluctance; or so Harry claimed when he relayed to her his account of things.

Hermione catapulted into his arms; she wasn't really aware anymore of what was going on, only that she had to reach him before he disappeared. When Hermione threw herself against him, she felt the warm familiarity of those large, powerful arms wrap themselves around her back and bring her close, against the countless buttons on the front of his coat that, at one time, she had relished. Severus buckled at her firm embrace and, together, they fell to the ground amidst the dying leaves.

Hermione couldn't hold anything in. She cried noiselessly against his chest, clawing at his back with her fingers, desperate to hold him and be held at the same time. _'Murderer!'_ she wanted to shout at the top of her lungs. But she couldn't bring herself to say it. She simply let herself be wrapped up in Severus's secure embrace, his face bundled into the nape of her neck, as she sobbed and whimpered his name repeatedly, shaking her head in doubt and sorrow.

"It's all right," she heard him murmur soothingly as he rocked her back and forth, lulling her to calm with whatever words of comfort he could. "It's all right, Hermione. Please, just hear me out. Let me explain everything to you. It's not what it seems. _It's not what it seems._"

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**A/N #2: The next chapter is _very_ long. For reasons.  
**


	29. To Have and To Hold

**A/N: This should be a particularly memorable moment up to this point. I hope you'll let me know your thoughts, as this has been a long time coming...  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 29: To Have and To Hold**

**Part I**

Eventually the atmosphere quieted, so that the only sounds were the occasional crunching of leaves from a nearby animal or the scurrying of twigs being snapped in half. For the most part, however, the air around them was as still as the foreboding forest they occupied.

Hermione felt herself on the verge of dozing in Severus's embrace. He had been rocking her back and forth for some time now, allowing her to cry uninterrupted, to let out everything she had suppressed inside for far too long. Occasionally, when she would cry out or whimper, he would hush her with a low, gentle purr that turned out to be a soothing remedy to her ears.

Hermione listened to the beating of the man's heart against her eardrum, holding tight to him, bundled snug and comfortably in her little nook against him. Her cheek rubbed at his chest. With each snivel, she nuzzled closer, burying her nose in the midst of all of his buttons. He was warm, and she was cold.

_Oh, so cold._

"It's all right," he kept reassuring her over and over again, never releasing her from his secure arms.

Hermione couldn't quite believe he was holding her, that she was surrounded by his wonderful scent of herbs and spices again, but nothing made much coherent sense anymore. _'It's not what it seems'? How is that possible? No... He's a murderer. He killed Dumbledore in cold blood. How could he do that?_

"How?" she cried softly, not realizing she had asked that thought aloud.

"It's complicated," he returned, without hesitating to consider what she meant.

"But... But you..."

She felt his chest heave with guilt. "He asked me to, Hermione. He... He was dying. He asked me to kill him before the Dark Lord, Bellatrix, or anyone else got to him first."

"_What?_"

Hermione couldn't think. And anyway,_ that_ didn't make any sense. None whatsoever. Was he lying to her again?

"It's the truth, Hermione," Severus urged, as if reading her thoughts; she suspected he probably had. "I - I know that's - difficult - to believe; I know you don't trust me. But I am being forthright with you, Hermione, I swear it.

"He was dying... His hand had been cursed by Marvolo's ring, and it was irreversible. Ask Potter about his hand. _Ask him_. And you'll know I'm telling you the truth.

"By the time Dumbledore came to me for aid, there wasn't much I could do except provide a tonic that would contain the curse for as long as possible. I - I tried to dissuade him, Hermione. I certainly didn't _want_ to kill him; I could barely stomach the idea. I avoided it for as long as I possibly could. He placed a terrible, unsightly burden on me, and I'll resent the old man for it the rest of my days.

"But I... I understood, too. Being tortured to death is a slow, awfully painful way to die, Hermione, as is a fatal curse that takes over one's body. Considering it was a curse conjured by the Dark Lord, I'm sure you can imagine the horrors of what Dumbledore would have endured had he carried on to the bitter end. It's like a cancer. It would simply spread, leaving him in horrible agony before the end; like suffocation, only unbearably slow. Dumbledore didn't want to die either of those ways, Hermione. And there - there was another reason he asked me to do it..."

Hermione sniffed, her eyes no longer wet but weary. Her brow was furrowed as she kept her eyes squeezed shut, clutching at Severus as if she expected him to Disapparate on her at any given moment.

"What?" she muttered, terribly confused. "Why? What was it?"

Severus paused before answering. "We both knew that Dumbledore was going to die, so it was most advantageous for _me_ to kill him, Hermione, because... Because it would bring me further into the Dark Lord's circle than ever before. He trusted me before, but I have his _full_ confidence now, and his ear. He doesn't suspect me in the slightest. He confides in me more than anyone else, and he doesn't know that everything I do, _I do against him_. He has no idea that the new Headmaster of Hogwarts that he's implemented isn't, in fact, working for _him_. But then, that's something no one knows." He paused. "_Except you_."

It was a long while before Hermione could will herself to move or speak. To Severus, it was too long, to the point of agony. He tried to remain patient, to allow Hermione to process this overwhelming information. He could hardly imagine what must be running through her mind, but could only pray she would believe him, even if he had no right to ask it of her.

Hermione finally stirred in his arms and reared her face back to look at him properly. The nervousness in Severus's eyes was apparent. He feared the outcome of this: that she would push him away—this time for good—and that she wouldn't take anything he said into account. It was decipherable behind the depths of his eyes, and it was something only Hermione could make out.

But it wasn't so much his leeriness that struck Hermione so; she hated how depleted, worn, and haggard he looked, more than ever before, and she hadn't realized it until now. The heavy, dark bags under his eyes informed her without question that Severus hadn't slept—probably at all—in days. The sable eyes themselves were bloodshot and half open, and his pale face was drawn and alarmingly thinned out. Even with her arms woven around him, she could sense the newfound looseness of his frock coat. He was leaner than before and had lost a considerable amount of weight since she last saw him. The harsh outlines that framed his features were also more distinctive—sharper, even—than they were just months ago.

Hermione hated to take it all in, and couldn't will herself to be angry anymore. She was too emotionally spent and too elated to have him here, in this godforsaken place, face-to-face. She just couldn't will herself to despise him any longer and, in reality, never really had. Her anger was mixed with a sourness and soreness and desperate need to understand.

"Severus," Hermione whispered his name with such longing it made Severus's heart leap with hope, "are you..." She paused to bring her hand to his gaunt, colorless cheek. She brushed it ever so gently, feeling the bone beneath, and as she had so often enjoyed seeing months before, Severus's eyelashes fluttered, basking in her wonderful touch that he hadn't received in so long. "Are you telling me the truth? The whole truth?"

Severus gradually opened his eyes. He took a calculated breath before answering, without unlocking his gaze, "Yes, Hermione. It's the truth. The whole truth."

"He... He _really_ asked you to do it? Dumbledore? Harry said he begged you _not_ to kill him that night on the Astronomy Tower."

"Did Potter tell you what he said?"

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "He said to you, 'Severus, please...'"

Repeating the words caused an unexpected reaction. Severus drew his eyebrows together into an expression of the utmost suffering. Hermione instinctively inched closer and clasped her free hand onto a handful of his buttons.

"It would _seem_ that he begged me not to kill him—even Bellatrix and Draco believed as such—but that's not what he actually meant, Hermione." Hermione said nothing, however, only waited for Severus to continue uninterrupted. "He was asking me to do it... Before Bellatrix or someone else did. I made a promise to him, Hermione, and it was the _only_ opportunity I'd have to spare him the torture he would most certainly endure had Bellatrix gotten her way. It was also my sole opportunity to gain the Dark Lord's favor.

"There was nothing for it. I_ had_ to do it, Hermione. I had no choice. Believe me, if I did, I would never have agreed to it. Surely, you... You _must_ know that? I - I'm not a coldhearted murderer, Hermione. _I simply had no choice_."

It took a moment for Hermione to grasp that Severus's demeanor had entirely changed. He was no longer reserved, restrained, or holding himself back. She suddenly felt a teardrop cascade over her fingers that stroked his cheek, and realized that Severus was crying, albeit soundlessly. But a sole tear had escaped his eye, and his chin was wavering, threatening to buckle and give into the emotional torment he routinely suppressed.

Hermione brushed the tear away delicately with her thumb, and did her best not to react. He would surely have hated for her to point out what the former professor, now Headmaster, considered to be a 'moment of weakness.'

Hermione did her best to remain neutral, but seeing Severus tear up was exceedingly difficult. She knew it then. _He_ was _telling her the truth_. Why else would the exceedingly proud wizard go to the extent of crying in front of her if he didn't mean it?

_Yes, Severus was being honest..._

"And your soul?" Hermione whispered, struggling to speak, crushed at the very thought of it. "He... He_ made_ you do that to yourself? Dumbledore, how - how could he? _Your soul, Severus..._"

Severus's frown deepened as his eyes sunk to the ground, revealing more of the heavy despair that ripped at Hermione's chest. "I'm already a tarnished man, Hermione," he muttered very quietly. "It made little difference in his eyes. And I can't say that I blame him. He chose the right man..."

"Don't say that!"

"It's true."

"Severus, no!"

Severus met her gaze again, his countenance weary and forlorn. "Would you have rather someone _your_ age be forced to do what I did? _To kill?_ Imagine, for a moment, executing someone, Hermione. Can you imagine doing so? Taking a life?"

"I..." Hermione drew back a little, visibly stricken. "No, of course not."

"Then would you have wanted Draco to do it?"

"I would rather have had _him_ kill Dumbledore than you!" she insisted, a bit testily.

That endearing crease she loved formed in the middle of his brow. "Don't say such foolish things," he reprimanded in a hushed tone; but it didn't change how Hermione felt.

"I mean it!"

"No, you don't, Hermione—"

"He was chosen for the task, wasn't he? That's what Harry said! Harry said that Draco told Dumbledore—"

"That's beside the point."

Hermione huffed. "No, it isn't! _Your_ soul is just as important and worthy of preserving as anyone else's, Severus! That wasn't at all fair of Dumbledore! It was brutal of him. And I - I'm disgusted, frankly! I can't believe Dumbledore could guilt trip you into such a promise! How could he?"

A short pause carried through to Severus's unsettling reply. "Because it was necessary."

"_Necessary?_"

"Someone had to—"

"No, they didn't! He should _never_ have made that _your_ responsibility, Severus! He had no right to take away your soul—"

"Hermione, I've already told you how high the stakes were, and still remain. And now the Dark Lord trusts me. Completely. It is, indeed, a considerable advantage to know his plans and whereabouts, what he's thinking and considering at any given moment. Most importantly, by doing so, my knowledge of what the Dark Lord is concocting keeps you and Potter safe. That's well worth the price to me."

_Even if Bellatrix and Lucius are seeking to undermine me..._

Hermione couldn't necessarily argue that point, but it didn't lessen how she felt when considering the damage Severus was forced to endure in the process; or considering his safety and welfare, for that matter. His soul had been damaged, and not willingly. It sickened her and made her want to do _something_ for him.

"That doesn't make me feel better, Severus."

The harsh contours of Severus's face softened, and the edges of his mouth curled upward. Hermione had nearly forgotten what his wonderfully attractive smile looked like, and it brought a sharp pang to her chest.

"It's not supposed to," Severus tried to assure her, "but you cannot deny it, Hermione."

"I..." Hermione was bereft of words. She still couldn't quite fathom that Severus was here, propped up against her with his arms still latched around her waist. Scanning his fatigued face once more, her frown abruptly grew. "You look awful."

At that, however, he simply smirked and brought his hand up to trace her bottom lip. Hermione's breath hitched at this small, delicate gesture of affection. His touch, one which she had ached for, was supple, warm, and enticing all the same. Their eyes locked on each other for a long time before Severus returned her consideration.

"You look wonderful."

His low murmur was filled with an irrefutable longing. It made Hermione's composure waver.

"Oh, rubbish." She smacked his chest to keep from crying again. "I look like hell. I haven't showered in well over a day."

"That makes no difference to me."

He waited to allow his pronouncement to properly sink in. Hermione blushed a little, but she was still eying him with fresh tears. When she seemed incapable of speaking, Severus wiped his hand over a tear falling from her eye, just as she had so tenderly done for him moments ago.

"I've missed your face," he confessed with a gentle, amorous purr. He heard Hermione's whimper, and inclined his face closer until their noses were practically pressed together. "I've missed your eyes, your smile, your irritable nagging, our constant bickering, your touch. I've missed you, Hermione, _so much_. I - I've wanted to tell you..."

Severus suddenly ceased speaking. He appeared incapable of forming another coherent thought. His dark eyes diverted from hers and he eased back a little. Without warning, Hermione seized him by the waist and wove her arms tightly around him, squeezing him as much as she could.

"I've missed you, too," she sniveled, burying her face in his hair. "I've missed you so much, Severus. You... You have no idea. I just wish..."

For a time, neither said anything, but the undeniable affection between them was deeply felt and heartened by both. It had been a long time coming.

Finally, Severus broke the silence with a question, his hand pressed gently to the back of Hermione's head. "What is it you wish, love?" he purred into her ear in a loving address he had never illustrated before. It caused Hermione to hold him even tighter.

Then she drew back, sober. "I wish you would have told me. If you had just shared with me what you were going through, Severus, I might have... I could have..."

Severus shook his head. "Think about it, Hermione. How could I have possibly told you that I was going to kill Albus Dumbledore?"

Hermione understood that much, and, in truth, she knew he was right. There really wasn't a proper way for him to have disclosed such dreadful knowledge to her and expect her not to react poorly, or panic and inform Harry and the Order straightaway. It would have stopped her from trusting him altogether, and she sensed that was partly why he kept it from her.

"Is that why you pushed me away that night in the corridor, when I had come looking for you?"

Severus's face was still, but then his eyes flickered, and he nodded. "Yes, that was why."

"Then did you..." Hermione prayed her next question would receive a favorable answer; she was half afraid to even bring it up. "Did you really mean it when you said you couldn't fall in love again?"

Severus regarded her thoughtfully, his obsidian eyes growing reflective. His arms pressed against her back to bring her even closer, and Hermione readily allowed him to do so. Just when Hermione thought he might answer, he bent down to bring his mouth to hers. He was grateful when she didn't push him away; it was something he greatly feared he would never taste again: her. Her willingness was the incentive he needed, and, thus, he kissed her more, the heat building as his lips moved in synch with hers.

_Merlin, I've missed this_, Hermione thought with an audible moan, her body shivering in his embrace, and not on account of the cold.

She pined for more. She wanted to taste him. To her disappointment, however, Severus unlocked his lips from hers and surveyed her closely, his warm, sweet breaths tickling her face.

"I thought I couldn't," he avowed, his voice growing unsteady. "I never thought I could love someone the way I came to regard Lily. But _you_, Hermione... You showed me that I could. You showed me what _real love_ is.

"I said what I said that night deliberately to hurt you. I expected you to hate me anyhow for what was to come, for what I would do, so I did what I felt was the most logical at the time. I - I know it wasn't right, and I know I wounded you. It was _not_ something I wanted, Hermione, please understand that...

"You have every right to hate me. I'm hardly deserving of the unfailing kindness you've bestowed upon me in the past. How I repaid you was monstrous, without question. I'm truly sorry for what I've done to you. And I didn't mean it when I said I couldn't fall in love again, because I..."

Severus paused and twitched rather nervously, his eyes boring into hers with evident uneasiness. But then a surge of desire purged the void that so often masked Severus's true feelings, and his eyes were filled with a fresh appetite that took Hermione's breath away.

"_I'm in love with you_."

Hermione's world suddenly ceased moving. It was as if the earth beneath her feet had stopped to capture this moment and encase it for just the two of them. Hermione could hardly believe the declaration Severus had made, and yet, it was all she had been hoping for a long time, without even realizing so.

_This_ was what she had yearned to hear all those months that they were separated. If he could only tell her he loved her, then perhaps she could believe him; perhaps she could convince herself then that he _was_ the good man she thought him to be.

Now, Severus Snape had unexpectedly fulfilled that emptiness in her heart, with an awareness of the significance that such simple words held. Hermione brought both of her hands up to cradle Severus's face, staring deep into his eyes with a fondness that measured his own. She forced herself to breathe slowly so that she could finally declare the words without stumbling.

"_I love you, too, Severus_."

Severus's brow furrowed in shock. "You do?"

Evidently, he expected the opposite. It fueled an inner fire within Hermione. What had he expected her to do? To rebuff him? Had he actually believed all this time that she might reject him, after everything they had shared?

Hermione fought the strong urge to reprimand the damaged man in front of her, and nodded emphatically instead. She leaned in and pecked the bridge of his nose, alarming him slightly.

"Yes, Severus Snape. _Believe it_. I love you. In fact," her chestnut irises shimmered, making Severus's heart beat faster, "I daresay _I love you more..._"

The very untouchable and reticent wizard stared at her without moving. He was now devoid of any lingering doubts that so often plagued the back of his mind and his tormented soul. He leaned his forehead against hers, and let out a weighty sigh—a mixture of relief and contentment—that illustrated for Hermione just how besotted he was.

"That's impossible," he growled, giving her a wry smile meant exclusively for her.

Hermione couldn't help but giggle. She was wrapped up in this moment, enamored, and so very much in love. Finally confessing their feelings for one another had lifted a burden both had been carrying around for far too long. Severus sealed their declaration with another kiss that Hermione eagerly responded to.

Smitten and consumed, Hermione felt a rush of heat pulsate through every fiber of her being. She was no longer shivering, and neither was he. She suspected he might have even used his magic to bring warmth to the atmosphere around them.

Hermione reached her hands around from Severus's face to entangle them in his raven locks, pulling and massaging, as his fingers grazed down her back, making her spine tingle and her legs thrust forward, despite the fact that she was still heavily clothed.

He snogged her more earnestly when he felt their connection deepening, and Hermione reacted with equal zeal. Severus's lips were supple, the flavor of his mouth very much his own. She loved it. And he, in turn, relished the familiar, sweet taste of Hermione's mouth as his sense of time and place, and the fact that they were in the middle of the woods in the November cold, fell away, replaced by lust and desire and need.

Hermione had felt this craving before—this thirst for more, _so much more_—but it swept over her for the first time in months; she had missed this intensive compulsion. It made her lungs constrict and inflamed her very core. She needed to taste and feel more deeply, more fully, more every which way possible.

_She needed him_.

"Severus," she gasped, pulling away momentarily to catch her breath.

Their respiring was quick and excited, and the blaze Hermione witnessed as she stared into Severus's eyes told her everything: he didn't want her to stop, and, if she dared to hope, he wasn't going to push her away. Not this time.

Hermione seized the opportunity at hand, her mind unaware of just where things were headed. She had never done this before, was entirely inexperienced, and it wasn't something they had ever openly discussed. But she couldn't will herself to think on it right now; her body was recklessly in want, and as her eyes fell over the dark wizard, she could tell that his body was very much in need of her, too. She noted the erection their exploration and snogging had caused, and that was more than a little enticing...

Hermione's fingers gingerly met the clasped buttons at his cravat, and she began to undo them one by one as he continued to breathe heavily, keeping his unwavering focus on her the whole time. _I've been aching to do this_, her mind egged on most greedily.

As she unfastened his coat, Severus reached around to remove the hair tie that held Hermione's curls together in a loose-fitting bun. Her stunning array of wild ringlets tumbled and fell about her face, cascading fluidly over her dainty shoulders. To Severus, she was glorious to behold—like a goddess—and he unconsciously licked his lips as he reached forward to kiss her again.

His hands moved to the scarf looped around her neck. Severus slowly uncoiled it and threw it somewhere on the ground as they kissed more fervently, without taking a moment for air. By the time he had unwrapped her scarf, Hermione had finished unbuttoning, and attempted to remove Severus's coat, but it wouldn't budge at his wrists.

She groaned in frustration. Severus took a moment to unclip the buttons along his wrists, then undid his cravat, a feat Hermione knew she would never have figured out on her own. He was exceedingly quick about it, focused on her the entire time, and before Hermione knew it, they were snogging again as if there had been no interruption.

That burning, growing sensation at Hermione's womanhood increased as they delved further. Severus ran his fingers along every curve of her upper body before they reached underneath to make contact with her bare skin. Hermione shuddered at the feel of his large hands upon her for the first time. She attempted hastily to unbutton his white undershirt as he pulled her to him, intensifying their sucking and sampling of one another's mouths.

Finally, Hermione was able to successfully remove Severus's shirt, leaving his bare chest exposed. It was only then that she heard him hitch a nervous breath and draw away from her swollen lips. She let out a small whine of protest, but then her eyebrows came together curiously.

Severus was staring at her now in an abashed, childlike manner that made her eyes widen. The passion she had witnessed in those colorless orbs was gone, replaced by something Hermione never expected to find: shame.

"What is it?" she asked, befuddled by why he would possibly stop now.

Severus broke eye contact and shuffled for his white undershirt in the dark, turning away from her to grab it from somewhere behind him. It was only then that Hermione fully caught sight of the professor—her lover—and she bit her lip to stop herself from making an audible noise.

The faint moonlight seeping through the trees fell upon Severus's back, putting him in gentle spotlight; an undoubtedly unwanted scrutiny he couldn't bear. But it was too late. Hermione's horrified eyes took in the alarming gashes, various cuts, and unknown wounds that covered his entire back. His white skin couldn't mask any of the marks, dark and hollowed and sketched every which way. Every one of them looked exceedingly painful, but Hermione could barely take them all in as there were so many.

Without even thinking, Hermione clasped her hand to her mouth, staring at them with unabashed shock. When Severus turned around with his shirt in hand, Hermione tried to quickly remove her hand and maintain a normal composure, but it was no use.

His eyes flickered unnaturally, his jaw tightening at the onslaught of her reaction to seeing him in the flesh. He hurriedly began to put his shirt back on when Hermione reached out and grabbed him forcefully by the arms.

"No," she commanded, her voice soft, yet determined.

Severus halted, but kept his mouth tightly bound. He watched her face intently, and Hermione instantly gathered that he was frightened; terrified and stricken by her seeing him this exposed. Hermione's eyes traced new marks she hadn't noticed along his shoulders and bare chest.

There was definitely a warming charm in place, for there was no way Severus would have allowed her curiosity to continue in such coldness. Hermione moved her fingers over Severus's forearms to his chest. She traced the assortment of cuts and contusions, her mouth gaped slightly with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Then she became aware of his labored breaths and met his troubled gaze. She was teary-eyed, but didn't know it.

"Severus..."

"I'm sorry," he muttered quietly, and tried again to put on his shirt, but Hermione grabbed hold of his face with both hands. She stared into her lover's eyes, but he wouldn't look back.

"No, Severus, _don't_," she implored.

"It's all right. You don't have to look at them."

"Severus, please..."

"They're unsightly, I know." Severus spoke much faster than usual; Hermione could see the shame written all over his face, even without him meeting her eyes. The terrible confirmation of his humiliation shattered her heart into pieces. "I should have been more mindful. I wasn't thinking. I'm sor—"

"Don't apologize, Severus."

Severus, however, appeared torn between backing away and letting her continue to gawk at him, feeling like some sort of freakish experiment. His face was anguished, the lines around his eyes and mouth grim. His dark eyes themselves had withdrawn from her considerably.

Hermione bent closer, rubbing her thumbs along his high cheekbones. She brushed a few strands of his coarse hair away, cupping his face between her palms.

"Will you look at me?" she coaxed softly. "Please?" Severus reluctantly met her eyes, and she caught the glimmer of hope that flickered behind his own before it died out like a flame. "You needn't apologize, Severus. _Please don't_. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to react that way. I was just stunned is all. I wasn't prepared to see that. I... I had no idea. It's all right though."

"No," he mumbled in a crippled tone that brought Hermione heartache. "It isn't. I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't want you to see this. It was foolish of me. I don't know what I was—"

"Severus, _stop it_. It's fine. I don't care."

"I do..."

"Well, you shouldn't. It doesn't change anything about how I feel. It doesn't matter to me."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "It... It doesn't?"

Hermione delicately stroked his cheeks. "No, it doesn't. _Not at all_."

Severus reached his hands up to latch onto Hermione's arms, rubbing ever so gently. "You - You mean it?"

Hermione had never seen the wizard—_her_ wizard—this vulnerable. It all but sucked the very life out of her. She shook her head and extended her neck to surprise him with a gentle peck to his forehead. His entire body responded with a strong quiver, giving way to some invisible weight being lifted.

Hermione moved her lips slowly about Severus's face, caressing him affectionately, wanting to let him know that her regard was unchanged. When her eyes reopened, they were as close to him as possible. She could see the alleviation in those once cold, dejected irises, now awakened and lively.

Hermione uncupped her hands from his face and moved them slowly down his neck, over his Adam's apple, to the center of his chest, where several deep gashes criss-crossed one another or flowed into another wound. She gently traced them with her fingers but never removed her gaze from his.

Severus watched her in awe, staggered by her wholehearted, unwavering acceptance. He could hardly breathe or believe it. Of course, it was dark in these woods; perhaps when she saw him in better lighting, she would reconsider the matter. But for now, he was indebted to Hermione's unfailing kindness once again, and more than grateful.

"You are beautiful," she murmured lovingly, and she meant it.

She could only hope that Severus felt it in her affectionate stare, in her touch, in her utterance of the words. She placed another tender kiss on his lips, this time without the earnestness they had been using before.

"Please," she begged him, "don't stop, Severus. Might we continue? Please? I don't want to stop..."

Severus gave her a cautious look. "Are you sure, Hermione?"

"Yes, I'm _more_ than sure."

He paused, considering. "Are you on the potion?"

Hermione bit her lower lip hard. Why the hell hadn't _that_ occurred to her until now? She wasn't seeing anyone, and even when she had been dating Ron, albeit briefly, she never thought about taking the potion at the time, as they hadn't gotten remotely serious.

"Um, no," she confessed awkwardly.

"I see." Severus eyed her over with care. "You haven't done this before, then?"

"No, I - I haven't..."

Severus didn't say anything. He had suspected this, but it was worth asking and taking the extra precaution, nonetheless. He could sense the same curious thought racking Hermione's mind, too.

Hermione hadn't given any thought before to whether the professor had an active sex life, or if he ever had, for that matter. She couldn't imagine that Severus got around very often, but then, she didn't know anything about that part of his life. Not yet; or at least, not until _this_ moment.

"Are you..."

"I'm not," he answered. Seeing the wave of timidness that befell Hermione, Severus added, "But I've been celibate for many years. This is as nerve-wracking for me as it is for you."

Hermione let out a short fit of nervous giggles, continuing to bite at her lower lip. "Thank you."

Severus cocked his head and brushed at a few curls near Hermione's cheek. "Are you _really_ sure, Hermione?"

The answer, however, was already clear. She was smiling decidedly at him, and even in the darkness, and even with the warming charm in place, her face radiated with a heat and excitement all its own.

"Yes, I'm sure, Severus. _I want you_. I... I want it to be _you_..."

To her relief, Severus finally conceded. He gave her that attractive, dark smirk of his that routinely made her stomach flutter and brought his lips to hers, once again kissing her with the same level of passion they had experienced before the man's scars disrupted everything.

_**But wait! There's more!**_

**That's right, folks. We've finally arrived at "The Smut." To comply with FFN regulations regarding sexual content, I have posted Part II of Chapter 29 on my LiveJournal account: __****crmediagaldotlivejournalcom**

**Please Note****: If you wish to leave feedback on Chapter 29 - which I would most certainly appreciate! - _please do so here on FFN_. This allows me to personally respond to any signed reviews I receive. This is also where the story is hosted, so please refrain from using my LiveJournal for reviews. That's not what I've intended it for. _Please leave any reviews in the box below. Thank you so much!_**_**  
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	30. The Otter and the Doe

**A/N: Wow! Thank you for all your feedback on the last chapter! It was good to hear that that moment went over well and that you all enjoyed it. I have another treat for you to start off this chapter, as well as some serious conversation mixed with more fluff. Enjoy!  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 30: The Otter and the Doe**

**Part I  
**

**Did you think they were _done?_ That there wouldn't be any more fun the morning after? I certainly hope not! **

******My apologies in advance for making you hop back and forth between websites again, but for this chapter, it couldn't be helped. _Honest. _Hopefully you'll find it worth the investment..._  
_**

**Read Part I of Chapter 30 on my LiveJournal account and then return here for Part II (link available on my Profile page, too): ****__****crmediagaldotlivejournalcom**  


**Part II  
**

"Bloody fantastic," she breathed hard, smiling at him elatedly.

Severus reacted by kissing her again, as if in appreciation. For several more minutes, they snuggled together in the sleeping bag, mindless of the rest of the still darkened world around them.

"Shit!" Hermione suddenly cursed, clamping a hand to her sweaty forehead.

"What?"

Hermione quickly drew onto her elbows as Severus stared up at her, confused. "We didn't...! The protective charm! We - We forgot...!"

Severus's face relaxed, and he started to laugh. It normally drove Hermione mad to hear his rare, robust laughter, but right now she was in panic mode.

"What's so funny?" she hissed, narrowing her eyes.

"It lasts for twenty-four hours, Hermione." She felt his fingers rubbing her shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension.

"Oh!"

Hermione fell back against the pillow, her curls spread out behind her head and over Severus's arm. Severus turned onto his side and inched her closer to him.

"You didn't know?"

"I, erm, no, I didn't. Sorry."

"What did I tell you about that?"

Hermione fully turned her head to look at him, and seeing the rare display of playfulness in his eyes made her heart flutter. She smiled again, echoing a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, I know... Sorry."

Severus hissed, his face contorting with evident annoyance, which only made Hermione snicker. It was a long while that they simply laid there, staring deeply at one another, lost to the world. Their surroundings were growing increasingly more visible as dawn approached, but they ignored everything, having only eyes and attention for each other.

Severus moved first, reaching out to stroke the side of her face with his index finger. His eyes studied her for a time before he spoke, "I have to go."

"No," Hermione found herself whimpering, and reacted by pressing her body against his. She looped an arm across his side and buried her face in his chest. "Not yet."

"I would imagine your fickle friends will be awake soon."

"They'd sleep 'till noon if I didn't wake them myself," she grumbled.

Severus snorted. "I'm not surprised."

Hermione took some time just to listen to the man's heartbeat against her ear before interrupting the silence. There was so much to talk about, Hermione hardly knew where to begin, so she began with a casual question she already suspected the answer to.

"I'm assuming you know about the locket?"

"Yes," Severus answered, and then his voice turned serious. "That was quite foolish, Hermione."

"And how else would you propose we get a hold of it?"

Hermione peered up at him, her nose practically touching his. Severus gently stroked her cheek again.

"I don't know," he confessed with a low growl, "but it was still irrevocably stupid of all of you."

"Well, if you come up with a better solution in the future, Severus Snape, then, by all means, share it with me."

"Hermione, none of you can afford to be that careless."

"We _weren't_ careless, Severus."

Severus sighed, too spent to argue the matter, which brought a triumphant smile to Hermione's face. Severus drew his hand down her side to bring her into his arms, and the pair of them lazily held one another, not at all willing or ready to greet the rest of the world just yet.

"How are you?" he whispered to her, his expression somber and his eyes growing heavy again.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose. Horrible, tired," she paused, "scared..." Hermione caught the flicker of worry in Severus's eyes and tenderly leaned in to peck his lips, cupping the side of his face. "How are you?"

Severus toyed idly with a few of the curls that cascaded down her back, twirling them around his fingers. "Horrible, tired, scared," he repeated quietly.

Hermione hadn't expected the latter but didn't press it, as something else came to her mind she had been wanting to ask. "Severus?"

"Yes?"

"That night in July... When you caught up with me before I reached the Burrow..."

"Yes?"

"Did you know it was me? I mean, before the Polyjuice Potion wore off?"

Severus considered her thoughtfully before answering. "No, I didn't. I knew you weren't Potter, but until I actually saw you, I wasn't sure who you were."

Hermione swallowed. "And those hexes you cast at me... Were you _trying_ to hit me, or were you pretending to?"

"What do you think?"

Hermione already knew but had still felt compelled to ask. It brought her great relief at seeing the confirmation on Severus's tired face. The hexes had never been close enough to cause damage; he really hadn't had any plans to harm her.

"And George?" she pressed delicately.

Severus grunted. "I didn't have a choice, Hermione. If I hadn't stepped in, Lupin would have surely been killed. I hit the boy's ear to do the least damage that I could. It was that, or kill him. Which would you and Mr. Weasley have preferred?"

"I - I didn't mean to offend by asking."

"And you haven't."

"Thank you for what you did... For me..."

Hermione was surprised to see a glimmer of amusement emerge in those colorless orbs that continuously fascinated her. "You really _are_ a terrible flyer."

"Oh, gee, thanks! Here I'm trying to express my gratitude, and you go right for the jugular."

"You said so yourself, remember?"

"Well, whatever happened to you teaching me how to fly properly, Professor?"

"Mmm, yes, I suppose if we had had more time..."

Hermione deciphered where Severus's mind had drifted, leaving his thought unfinished. She nuzzled the tip of his nose with her own.

"When this war is over," she stated quietly, "you'll teach me properly."

Severus said nothing to that statement; he simply couldn't. There was no foreseeable 'when this war was over' to him. He hadn't given any thought to a future. His time as Headmaster, as a Death Eater, as a spy had left him incapable of seeing past tomorrow.

Realizing that Hermione was reading his silence and drawing the same unsettling conclusion, he delicately stroked his hand up and down her back, wanting to put her mind to rest. "Very well, then. When this war is over, I'll teach you."

Hermione, however, remained nervous. "Severus?"

"Yes?"

She wrapped her exposed arm around his, bringing him into another firm hug. "I've been hearing rumors... Things on the radio about you as Headmaster... Are - Are they true?"

Severus's eyes darkened, despite the number of shadows in their surroundings. "If they're at all unfriendly, then yes, I would imagine most of them are true."

Hermione considered his sober reply for a moment. "The tortures then?" she pressed in a low voice. "The beatings? The treatment towards the Muggle-borns?"

"I'm afraid so."

"_Why, Severus?_"

"You know why, Hermione. Please don't make me say it."

His voice caught in his throat unexpectedly and he quickly diverted his eyes from hers. A few limp hairs fell into his face, masking his sullen expression.

"I... I'm sure it's very difficult for you, but—"

Severus made some kind of audible noise, either out of anger or agreement, she couldn't tell which. "Difficult doesn't scratch the surface. It's unbearable, most of the time," he whispered.

His confession sounded as if it were more for himself alone than for her, but she didn't interrupt. His fingers continued to graze up and down her back, his touch both soft and sensitive, and not at all matching the gravity of the subject matter for which he spoke.

"If I'm to continue to gain the Dark Lord's trust, then I must continuously enforce his rules. I do my best not to let the Carrow twins do too much damage; they're out of control, and it can be difficult to keep them in line. I take part in punishments only to prevent the torture from being much worse. When Amycus or Alecto inflicts harm, they're nearly as relentless and unforgiving as Bellatrix."

Hermione shivered at the mere thought of it. "Even the first years?" she inquired with reluctance; she didn't necessarily want to know, but her sharp mind compelled her to ask anyhow.

Severus slowly nodded, but still wouldn't look at her. "Yes, unfortunately..."

"And - And my friends? Neville, Luna, Ginny? Have you..."

Severus finally peered into her worried eyes. The sadness and regret behind them were prominent and unyielding. He nodded his head, as if in slow motion, and muttered his confession in a grave tone of voice.

"Yes, I have. They've been doing their best to put up a fight; I confess, I'm quite shocked that your friend Longbottom has made such a repeated stand against the Carrows and me. He and Miss Weasley are amongst the few most outspoken ones; they've received the most reprimanding and visits to my office. I've interceded several times to keep the Carrows from tormenting them too much, but it isn't easy, Hermione, and make no mistake, I'm not at all permitted to be soft on them. If I did, I'd..."

Severus didn't finish his thought. He closed his mouth and, instead, searched her face for some small ounce of understanding. Hermione stared at him for a long while before reaching up to brush the escaped hairs away from his hooked nose. She tucked them behind his ear, her face pensive.

"Thank you for telling me." She paused to watch his eyes shift. "I'm sure they don't understand that, in actuality, you're sparing them far worse torment they'd receive from others, but I'm not sure I want to know the specifics just yet..."

"I understand."

Hermione paused to ponder her next question. "The Dark Lord..."

Severus smirked, albeit faintly. "So many questions..."

Hermione chuckled. "Sorry. Do you mind?"

Severus leaned over to kiss her cheek, which made her chest flutter. She never thought the simple things could make her feel like this, but they did, even after months spent apart.

"No, not at all," he answered, keeping his eyes on her. "What about him?"

"Well, Harry senses that he's growing more dangerous? Because of these Horcruxes?"

Severus closed his eyes, but wrapped his arm around her once more to hold fast. "He's frustrated. He knows Potter, you, and Weasley are on to him, and he's becoming more paranoid and desperate. Yes, I would say he's more dangerous. He's much more out of control emotionally than he ever was."

Hermione ran her fingers along his exposed, high cheekbone. "How often does he summon you?"

Severus stirred, responding positively to her touch, but did not reopen his eyes. "Not very often these days. As Headmaster, it makes getting away difficult. He understands, but it doesn't make my own punishments any less severe."

Hermione blinked, reawakening from their sleep-inducing repose. "Punishments?"

"Mmm."

Hermione brushed her nose against his. "Severus, what are you talking about?"

"I told you... The Horcruxes; he's quite aggravated, so he takes it out on all of us, myself included."

Hermione's eyes trailed down Severus's front, or what little she could see beneath the transfigured sleeping bag. Her hands, too, unconsciously moved down his neck to carefully trace the various scars along his chest.

"Did he give you these?" she asked tentatively, mesmerized and horrified all at the same time.

Severus's weary eyes opened, though only half way. "Some of them, yes. Others... No."

"Severus," she grumbled; the thought alone was terrible, seeing them was another matter. "How did you get all of these? Do they hurt?" Hermione backtracked quickly, blushing slightly at him before reverting to the marks again. "I'm sorry; that was a really stupid question."

"It's all right."

"It just... It looks so painful. There's so many..."

Severus moved slightly beneath the covers to situate himself more comfortably on his side. "My back's much worse. But they're all healed."

"How did you... How did you get the ones not caused by him or crazed Death Eaters?"

Severus's eyes flickered away momentarily, and his mouth twitched. "It's not important."

Hermione knew immediately not to push. He didn't want to discuss it, no matter how relaxed they were. It didn't lessen her strong desire to know how he had gotten them, but she willed herself not to ask for now. She gave him a somber look, staring directly at him with something else in mind.

"Turn over."

Severus eyed her curiously. "What?"

"Turn over, please."

Soon grasping what she wanted, Severus hesitated, the uncertainty prevalent in the dark depths of his eyes. "Hermione—"

"Please?"

Severus waited a moment, then sighed and grumbled something in a sluggish, sleep-filled tone. He rolled onto his opposite side, away from her. Hermione felt a lump form in her throat as she inched back a little to soak in all the markings before her eyes.

To Hermione, it was like surveying them anew, particularly in better lighting. She inched onto one elbow and drew the covers away to inspect his entire back. From his shoulder blades to his lower back, there were nothing but slashes and cuts. She couldn't make out any untainted skin, and that reality alone was horrifying. Having her eyesight take them all in was far more difficult than she anticipated, and a small groan of despair reverberated from her mouth that she couldn't prevent.

Severus started to turn his head, but Hermione pressed herself up against him and kissed the nape of his neck, then his bare shoulder, pecking tenderly. Her hand reached over to find his, and she seized it with a gentle squeeze.

"They're a ghastly sight, aren't they?" he issued delicately. "Not what you'd expect or want from the man you just lost your chastity to, wouldn't you agree?"

Hermione momentarily stopped kissing him to whisper into his ear, "It's not what I expected, no, but I still love you, you miserable git." She was relieved to hear him actually laugh, then sigh, releasing whatever tension he felt at showing her his physical flaws. "Now be quiet, and don't move," she ordered.

Hermione proceeded to kiss over the various dips and ridges of her lover's skin, moaning softly and sadly as she did so. They were rough, coarse, many of them much deeper than she imagined.

Before Hermione knew it, she had tears cascading down her cheeks, but her crying was soundless as she lovingly kissed every slash, every painful cut, every terrible gash in his skin. Occasionally, Severus would echo a feeble, low sigh in response. He didn't stop her, instead allowing Hermione to move gradually all around his back in an attempt to heal away the pain with her warm lips, with her small gesture of love.

As she made her way back up his spine, Hermione murmured against his skin, "You're so beautiful," and felt Severus inhale sharply.

"I'm afraid you're the only one who thinks so."

"Shut it," she commanded, burying her face in all of Severus's black hair, her lips again caressing the nape of his neck. "I hate to see you in so much pain..."

"I'm not in pain, Hermione."

"Yes, you are." She reached around to kiss his exposed cheek. "Your attempts at subtly don't work on me anymore, remember?"

"Mmm, is that so?"

Hermione could detect the sluggishness in his voice again, and glided her hand back into his. She situated her arm around his torso, spooning him comfortably. After a moment, Severus sighed once more and stated with melancholy, "You're the only person who sees any shred of decency in me."

Hermione was struck down by that remark and almost lost her composure. Her eyes were still wet with tears, and she could only hope that the always attuned awareness of the man she loved couldn't sense her anguish.

"When this war is over," she whispered against his ear, nuzzling it gently, "everyone will know who you_ really_ are, Severus, and what you've done. I promise."

"Don't say things like that, Hermione."

"Why not?"

There was no bite to his words; she could tell just by his body language that he was too tired to argue with her, but what he had said still confused her, nonetheless.

"You shouldn't talk about the future so much. It... It doesn't do any good. Anything can happen..."

Hermione inadvertently rubbed her cheek against his shoulder before giving it another kiss. "You shouldn't say things like_ that_, Severus. Please don't."

"I don't agree."

"Surprise, surprise."

Severus's faint laughter turned into a yawn. His grip on her hand also loosened.

"I really should go..."

"You're tired. Go back to sleep for a while. I'll wake you in a few hours."

Severus's head shifted minimally before re-situating against the transfigured pillow they shared. Hermione leaned her head against his neck and shoulder, rubbing her cheek along some of the rough marks.

"It's too risky," he grumbled, but it was a deflated effort, and that made Hermione's smile return.

"I'll wake you soon. Don't worry."

"How soon? If you let me sleep too long..."

"Four hours."

"No. I have to be back at Hogwarts before then—"

"Three."

Severus tried to growl, but only sounded drowsier. "Hermione..."

"Three. Now shut up, you're wasting it by talking."

Hermione drew the covers up around them and snuggled against him. She wasn't tired, and had every intention of just enjoying this, having warmth, holding him, and being as close as possible. It was comforting, like he was always meant to be at her side, and that in itself was an overwhelming feeling to her.

"No more...than three..." Severus stressed to her, leaning back and stifling another yawn.

"When was the last time you slept?"

"I don't know," he muttered into the pillow. "Does it matter?"

Hermione firmly kissed the back of his head, her face getting lost in his hair. "I can only imagine how long it's been. You sound awful. Go to sleep, love."

"You're not going to sleep?"

Hermione tried to suppress her giggles. "I'm far too happy right now to fall back to sleep."

"There's something wrong with you," Severus baited before yawning a third time. "There are a lot of peculiar, unnatural things about you, in fact."

"Stop ruining the moment, would you? You talk way too much."

Severus snorted. "Speak for yourself."

Hermione only continued to smile behind him. "I always do. Now, please, would you shut up already? I'd like to be alone with my thoughts for a while."

"I don't want to know...what goes through that head of yours... So I'll leave you to it..."

Hermione rolled her eyes but pecked his shoulder one last time. She leaned her head against him and let her mind drift, hearing another long sigh of contentment of his as she did so. She had barely begun to think over the past twenty-four hours when she heard Severus snoring lightly again, his breathing steady and uninterrupted as he dozed in her arms.

_I could get used to this_, her mind considered cheerfully before her smile slumped into a frown at Severus's back. Severus's own words were penetrating her happy thoughts. _'Anything can happy...'_

The idea of having this small dose of what it would be like to wake up next to Severus every morning snatched away from her prevented Hermione from reflecting all that happily for the next few hours. She was content, to be sure, but the future was still so bleak and uncertain. And until the Dark Lord was defeated, her lover was right: anything could happen.

* * *

"When will I see you?"

"I don't know. I won't be able to come searching for you like this too often, and I have far too much riding on me as it is. The Carrows or the Dark Lord will most certainly catch on if I'm away too often."

"Then I'll come to you."

"Don't be ridiculous. How on earth would you figure that?"

"Well, I can Apparate... If you'll give me access? I could come to your private quarters? I'd imagine that would be safest?"

"And what if I weren't alone whenever you decided to show up? That's far too dangerous, Hermione. Forget about it."

"Oh? Women come to your private quarters often, do they?"

"Don't make a joke of it!" Severus hissed as he hastily buttoned up his frock coat and adjusted his cravat. Hermione watched intently all the while. She couldn't stop herself from staring, and Severus didn't seem fully aware of it. "I'm thinking of your safety."

"Did you have something_ better_ in mind?" she baited.

"None at all. When I can, I'll come to you. I'll find you again."

"That's not good enough!"

"Hermione—"

"_It isn't_. And why must you come to me? I can come to you, too."

"And how exactly do you anticipate getting away from Potter and Weasley? You're supposed to be searching for—"

"I know, I know! I... I'd come for a couple hours—at night—whenever I could get away; when I'm not on watch."

"And if they find you missing?"

"_They won't_."

"That's not one of your cleverest answers, Hermione," he retorted with scowling disapproval.

Hermione threw her curls back into a bun as she hurriedly replied, "Neither is yours. You can't afford to get caught, Severus. I have far less to lose if we're discovered. If the boys would suspect anything and I got caught, I have _them_ to answer to. You have the Dark Lord riding your coattails. I think my solution far outweighs yours. So, I'll come to you."

"Hermione—"

"I'll send my Patronus to let you know that I'm coming." Hermione fastened on her boots and fumbled about for her scarf somewhere on the ground.

"That's not smart! Your voice, it could—"

"I'll disguise it, Severus; it's no big deal. If it isn't a good time, just send word, and I won't come."

"If the Carrows or—"

"What? They know what form my Patronus takes?" Hermione couldn't help snickering at the flush of color that radiated Severus's cheeks. He was overtly flustered and bothered by every failed attempt to dissuade her. "Your argument's proving more and more invalid, Severus. I'll come to you when I can. That's it."

"Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?"

"Plenty. And don't talk down to me like I'm one of your students anymore, because I'm _not_."

"You're infuriating!"

Hermione gave a wicked smirk that made Severus's cheeks glow even more. He quickly turned away to wrap his cloak around his shoulders.

"You're more so!" she chimed rather happily, despite the fact that they were in the midst of a row. "So when can I see you?"

Severus collapsed his shoulders and thrashed his robes around to face her. His expression was stern, but Hermione immediately noticed that the austere look of his didn't quite match his eyes. She crossed the gap between them in only a few steps and wove her arms about his waist, staring up with a raised eyebrow.

Severus responded with a defeated growl and extended his cloak about Hermione's frame to safeguard her from the cold. Hermione let out a fit of soft laughter, seeing his face soften and his will succumbing to hers far more easily than it had in the past. It was a triumphant moment for the Gryffindor.

"Soon, I hope," he purred.

Hermione felt herself responding already and fluttered her eyelashes. "You better not keep me waiting too long." She tugged at several of his buttons, clamping her hands around them in an almost possessive fashion. "I'll hound you if you do. You know I will."

Severus's lips curled seductively. "Indeed, yes, I've learned my lesson."

With that, he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her somewhat swollen lips with an intensity she matched. Her fingers gingerly reached around his midsection to delve into his back. When Severus pulled away, Hermione let out a faint moan, torn between letting him go and leg-locking him to the spot to prevent his escape.

"Don't even think about it," he hissed quietly.

Hermione gasped and opened her eyes wide. "_You!_" she uttered, smacking him on the arm.

"You haven't been practicing Occlumency much, have you?"

"No," she huffed, her cheeks turning red at his freshly stringent regard, "I haven't exactly had much free time lately."

"All the same," Severus drew her jaw upward, "please practice, Hermione; as much as you can."

"Why?"

"Just do as I say, would you?" he answered with an endearing aggravation that made Hermione titter.

"All right, all right, I will. I promise."

"Thank you." Severus's pallid visage became gentler as he gazed down at her thoughtfully. "What _is_ your Patronus?"

"An otter." Severus's eyes shimmered strangely, which heightened her curiosity. "I take it you're surprised?"

"Indeed, I am..."

"Why?"

"It just isn't what I would've expected."

"And what did you expect mine to be?"

Severus showcased a dark smirk. "A seagull, perhaps."

Hermione's brow furrowed. She hadn't expected _that_ answer.

"A seagull? What on earth made you think that?"

"Because they're obnoxiously loud and they never shut up."

Hermione's jaw dropped open, a trickle of color drawing up from her neck onto her face, but not out of anger. He looked far too attractive in a rare display of playfulness for her to reprimand him for his remark.

Just as she started to make a comeback, the words were unable to escape her lips, for Severus laid another passionate kiss upon them, a much deeper one than before. Hermione's head fell back, and she closed her eyes to enjoy every ounce of it.

_This can't possibly be reality. Surely, I_ must _be dreaming. All of this._

"Bastard," she spat once their lips parted; Severus simply chuckled back. "That won't always work, you know."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"You're a god-awful liar, my dear." Hermione gave a dramatic roll of her eyes, and shook her thick curls back and forth, keeping her arms tightly bound around him. Severus placed another tender kiss on her forehead that brought immediate warmth to her senses. "Be careful, Hermione. Please. Be safe."

"I will, I promise."

Hermione would have sensed what else Severus wanted to say without staring up at him. It was all very clear in his eyes, and in the look he bore at that moment. And that was enough for her. He only professed his love for her hours ago, and gathering up the courage to say the words was a major feat in itself for him, she knew. Her lover wasn't one to express himself freely very often, and Hermione understood that it would take time for him to grow used to expressing how he felt, and saying the words out loud.

Hermione drew onto her tip toes for one last kiss, and then whispered, her lips still pressed to his, "I love you."

"And I, you."

"I know."

Severus and Hermione reluctantly parted, and Severus moved away several feet to Disapparate. He gazed back at her one final time, half tempted to do away with everything and stay with her. He could have. He desperately wanted to, and could see the same thought reflecting in those caramel eyes he now completely worshipped; but he forced his personal feelings to the back of his mind, just as he had nearly all his life. Life could never simply go according to _his_ plans. He was always at the beck and call of someone else.

"I'll send word to you soon," he told her. "Don't go doing anything foolish in the interim."

Hermione rolled her eyes again, and just as Severus's figure began to warp and blur, a fleeting thought came to pass. "Severus!" she issued hastily. "The password!" But with a crackle and a pop, he vanished, leaving her question unanswered. "Blast."

* * *

**A/N #2: Lots more artwork! **

**1. The new image that accompanies this story is another fantastic piece by saniika of Hermione examining Severus's scars in this chapter. I hope you find it as moving as I do. Links to the full color and black and white versions are on my Profile page; the following link is a close-up of the colored version: **

**_saniikadotdeviantartdotcom[slash]art[slash]Does-it-hurt-316193186_**

**2. PiccolaScintilla has made two fantastic photo manips from Chapter 28 of Severus confronting Hermione in the woods. Links, again, are on my Profile page:_  
_**

**___piccolascintilla at deviantartcom [slash]art[slash]Murderer-I-317190429_**

**______****____****___piccolascintilla at deviantartcom_** [slash]art[slash]Murderer-II-317190828

**3. severussempra (Halcrux) has made a beautiful gif, as well as a moving photo manip, from Chapter 29, both of which you can find in The Snapes Tumblr Gallery (links are also on my Profile page):_____  
_**

**_thesnapesdottumblrdotcom[slash]thesnapes[slash]gallery_  
**


	31. Meeting in Shadow

**A/N: Um, I sort of forgot that there's three chapters in a row of smut, which, I'm afraid, normally would mean hopping around the internet _again_. But I decided not to do that to you this time. I find that this round is tamer compared to the others, and I purposely toned it down in order to include it here. There's also some more additional fluff. (Gotta take fluff where you can get it, especially in the midst of a war).  
**

_**Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.**_

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 31: Meeting in Shadow**

Hermione had tried repeatedly to put her wizard—how she loved secretly referring to him in such a way!—out of her mind. She and Harry had been putting their heads together for some time as they attempted to figure out the Horcruxes. Hermione bemoaned not having Severus to tag along, or at least there for their relentless conversations. Not that he ever could have possibly been 'a part of the group.' Such an idea was laughable whenever Hermione thought on it. But, surely, Severus might have come up with something to help them by now, or at least steer them in the right direction, seeing as progress had slowed to a standstill.

Ron hardly took part in any conversations between them anymore, instead choosing to stew with what had become his trademark scowl, or keep to himself altogether, which was disheartening to Hermione. Even finding time to be alone with her wasn't in the cards anymore, a small blessing that had worked in her favor. She and Harry were either busy trying to further their research, or the three of them were on the go somewhere else, leaving little alone time in such close quarters.

Hermione still had no idea how to approach Ron. The last time they had attempted the simple act of dating, she had been the one to put a stop to it, and by fibbing at that. She didn't want to lie to the poor bloke again. He was still her second closest friend, and she didn't want to risk losing him for good.

_So what should you say, Hermione? ' Sorry, I don't love you that way, and, oh, by the way, I'm actually in love with Severus Snape, and we've done more than just snogging, we've shagged as well. Just thought I'd be honest and let you know.'_

_But you shouldn't lead him on either, Hermione!_ her mind screamed to her repeatedly. _He's obviously attracted to you and wants to pursue things. You can't allow things to go any further. You just can't. You _have_ to talk to him already!_

It was difficult to give equal attention to Ron and Severus. Severus was the most hated and misunderstood figure in the entire wizarding world at the moment, perhaps even more so than the Dark Lord himself. With each passing day, she hoped to receive some word from him, but nothing came.

_Patience, Hermione. It's only been a few days, for goodness' sake. Pull yourself together._

The first time Harry suggested they pack up and move out of their remote spot in the woods, Hermione had immediately panicked and suggested that they stay a little longer. What if Severus came back? What if he couldn't find them after they left?

By the next morning, however, Hermione's mind had resolved the matter. If the Headmaster of Hogwarts was capable of locating them now, he could most certainly find them again. She had never gotten around to asking how he had managed such a feat—twice—but it didn't matter. _Her_ wizard was a mastermind; that's all there was to it.

_Snarky, prepossessing genius_, she mused one night as she kept watch outside the tent, bundling a blanket around herself to keep warm. My _snarky genius..._

She consistently hoped he might show up out of the blue, but the long days that followed turned into nearly two weeks without any word or sign of him. Hermione understood Severus was probably swamped and terribly strained—his fatigue was written all over his face that night he came to her in the woods—and knowing the status he now held, as well as the compromising position he was in, Hermione felt a pang of guilt over her own selfish needs. These facts, however, didn't lessen her longing to see him again.

Severus had told her he would be in touch, but this night, as she sat by the fire warming her limbs but still feeling cold and empty, Hermione had had enough with the relentless waiting game. He would probably be very cross to see her Patronus, but then again, didn't he miss her, too? Wouldn't it make him happy to hear from her?

_Happy? Probably not. Reservedly thrilled? Perhaps. Whatever. I'll take my chances._

Hermione smiled and withdrew her wand from her pocket, letting the wonderful memory of their lovemaking escapade in the woods to fill her to capacity with an overwhelming sense of joy. Then she waved her arm in a circle.

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

Her eyes danced at the sight of her otter whisking out of her wand, swirling in front of her before it stopped and awaited her instructions. Hermione brought her wand to her throat to utter an additional incantation that would disguise her voice, and then spoke to her Patronus, requesting that it deliver her message.

"Hi, remember me? Might we talk? Can we meet? Are you even alive?"

Hermione didn't want to ask him to come outright, in case Severus wasn't alone. She nodded when she was through, reversed the spell on her voice, and watched as her Patronus swam away—or flied, rather—into the night. Messages by Patronus never took long to deliver—unlike owls—and, so, Hermione waited anxiously for some sign of the silver doe that had first made its appearance in her dormitory nearly a year ago.

Hermione hoped Severus would get back to her soon. Her desire to see him was admittedly starting to affect her mood. She was all but reclusive when Harry or Ron weren't instigating a conversation, and Ron hardly bothered anyhow. Hermione found her mind wandering rather than focusing on the task at hand. It was all very wrong, she knew, but she couldn't contain herself.

For the first time in her young adult life, _she was in love_. And the wizard she loved returned her affections. Hermione had never felt this level of happiness before, never having been subjected to the experience of true love until now, and the feeling was both toxic to her brain and exciting to every part of her body.

Hermione instinctively wrapped her arms tighter around her propped up knees and smiled into the blanket she was bundled in. Then her eyes brightened at the sight of something misty and silver gliding towards her at the edge of the forest. Her heart skipped a beat and she threw her head up, waiting with anticipation.

_Severus._

The silver doe stopped before her, and though his vocals were even deeper in order to disguise himself, it still caused her smile to widen. The doe first gave her a fancy wink, which all but made her giggle out loud.

"I'm sorry I haven't sent for you. I've been up to my neck in shit. Please come. I... I miss you."

Then the silver doe danced whimsically around her before disappearing into the trees. Hermione shook her head of wild curls and whipped out her wand again. She could tell he had tried to refrain from saying that last bit, reverting back to his reserved nature a little. It made her giggle.

_Silly, adorable sod._

Summoning her Patronus again, she sent along another message. "You _should_ be sorry, Mister. You've kept me waiting for nearly two weeks now. Are you playing hard to get? We're in the middle of a war, you know, so I don't have time for that. And it's a little late to play that game, isn't it? You had better make it up to me. And I still need the password to access your quarters, you lousy git."

He probably wouldn't appreciate that last bit. _Oh, well_, she thought with a broad grin; she was far too elated right now to care if what she said perturbed the man. She waited again for the silver doe to reappear, and within minutes, it returned, much to her delight.

This time, however, it spoke in Severus's normal voice. "My apologies. I didn't think you'd have so much time on your hands to wait to hear from me. Aren't you supposed to be hunting down Horcruxes?" The doe paused. "Let me guess: you're on your own in figuring this all out, aren't you? How disappointing. And unsurprising, at that."

The doe disappeared again, leaving Hermione aghast. She whipped out her wand, re-summoned her Patronus, and then sent along a more emphatic message.

"Listen here, you snarky bastard, are you going to give me the password, or would you prefer to chit chat like this the rest of the night?" Hermione smiled wryly. "Scared to say that to my face, Headmaster?"

It felt extremely odd to call him 'Headmaster.' It had an almost disturbing power to it that Hermione hadn't considered before. And it instantly made her think of Professor Dumbledore. Her heart jolted a little at that unnerving reality.

As the otter flew off, Hermione tapped her wand against her knee. _Cut it out, Hermione. Are you that anxious, for goodness' sake?_ But then her smile returned, bigger than ever. What did it matter? _She was in love..._

The silver doe returned almost instantly. "Under normal circumstances, I'd make you beg," he responded dryly; Hermione could tell he had been smiling as he sent it, even without visibly seeing him. "But seeing as it's already midnight, and I would prefer to have you for as long as possible, I'll go easy on you this once. Damnant quod non intelligunt. And, yes, I know, I _am_ a walking cliché of irony..."

The doe bounced off several trees surrounding her before it vanished yet again. Hermione sat quietly for a moment, caught on the short but poignant Latin phrase.

"'They condemn what they do not understand.'"

_Oh, Severus..._

Hermione's mouth formed into a rather disapproving pout before she resolved to move. This was utterly selfish of her to leave their tent unprotected. She would have to wake one of the boys and lie about needing to get some sleep if she wanted to lessen her guilt and have a prayer of spending some real time with Severus. The exciting prospect quickly overpowered the witch's self-reproach, however.

Hermione rushed inside the tent to wake Harry, who came to with a groggy disposition and sluggish exchange of words. "Yeah, yeah, all right, fine," he grumbled, stumbling out of bed and out into the freezing cold half-awake, which Hermione intended to use to her advantage. Her friend cursed at the freezing temperatures his limbs were abruptly slapped with.

_Hopefully, he'll be too distracted by the cold to hear me Disapparate._ Hermione swiftly touched up her bed with her wand to make it look like someone—she, rather—was snuggled beneath the blankets. _Good enough_, she quickly determined, hearing Ron's loud snores in another bed nearby.

Hermione took one last glance around the tent before willfully Disapparating on the spot, relieved to find the password to the Headmaster of Hogwarts's private quarters worked. Hermione's feet hit the ground hard, nearly spinning her around in a circle as she ceased moving, and gravity returned to her sight with an unforgivable wave of nausea.

Hermione ignored the side effects she so often got from Disapparating and allowed her wide eyes to scan the warm confinements of Severus's new quarters, but only fleetingly. The place was considerably larger than his old chambers, but was still decorated in a Slytherin green with dark cherry wood furnishings. A crackling fire burned in a refined-looking fireplace behind her, and straight ahead on the opposite side of the room was a queen-sized four-poster bed.

"Severus!" Hermione exclaimed when she spotted the dark, brooding wizard leaning against the back of the bed frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

Still dressed in his infamous coat, he gave Hermione a faint smile, and even in the darkness of the room—the only source of light coming directly from the roaring fire at her back—Hermione could detect Severus's sable eyes glistening at the sight of her. "Hermione," he returned in a delicate whisper.

Severus started to inch himself away from the bed frame to greet her properly but was quickly met with Hermione's arms, which looped themselves around his torso, the side of her face catapulting against his chest. Severus grunted and stumbled backwards before managing to steady himself. He quickly gathered the young witch in his arms and returned her forceful embrace with soft chuckling near her ear.

"It's good to see you," she heard him purr. She reacted by squeezing him tighter.

"I've missed you," she responded, her response catching in her throat. "I've been waiting to hear from you..."

"I'm terribly sorry."

There was a long kiss to the top of her head. She could hear Severus inhaling her scent, his chest expanding against her cheek. She nuzzled against him, snug and finally at ease with all the sentiments of yearning she had been carrying around with her for nearly two weeks of hell.

"Like I said, you should be," she griped, though it was a lighthearted effort.

"I am. Happy?"

"No, not yet."

"Why not?"

"Depends on how you make it up to me..."

Hermione kept a possessive grasp on the man but peered up into his face at last. Her nose pressed itself against his, and she shivered in his arms at the sight of that delicious, intoxicating smile.

Severus pulled her to his chest, thinking her shivering was on account of being cold. Hermione pondered how the wizard really had no idea of the effect he had on her. He was entirely blindsided to just how strangely, yet endearingly, attractive he was.

"I see." Severus's black eyes flickered with a mixture of amusement and deep-seated desire. "I shall remedy that accordingly."

"You'd better."

Hermione matched his sly smirk, and suddenly Severus reached down to wrap one arm around her legs. Hermione was lifted up off her feet and let out a surprised gasp, followed by excited laughter.

"How gallant of you," she snickered, turning bright red as he guided her towards the bed as if she weighed nothing at all. "You don't waste any time, do you? Where's the romance? I prefer to be wooed, you know."

Severus growled in a possessive fashion as he laid her down on the soft bed and reared over her, bringing his face to hers to consume her mouth with several intense kisses. His breathing was hot, his lip-locking slow and deep as his lips massaged hers repeatedly, each time more consuming than the last.

Finally, Hermione drew back onto the pillow for air. "Merlin," she rasped, "I guess you really _did_ miss me."

"Don't flatter yourself."

Severus eyed her thoughtfully, his tresses cascading down all around his face. Hermione instantly gave attention to the strands that fell near his eyes and whisked them back behind his ears. She cupped his face in her palms, and the sigh of contentment that followed this small gesture set Hermione on fire. He really _had_ missed her. It was vividly clear, and she relished seeing the confirmation of it herself.

"How are you?" she whispered.

Severus's eyes were closed, enjoying the feel of Hermione's sweltering hands against his face, but opened at her inquiry. "I'm all right."

"That doesn't sound very encouraging."

"Oh?" he retorted, provoking her with his eyes. "What does it sound like, my dear?"

"You sound tired..."

Hermione hadn't considered the very real notion that Severus probably hadn't slept much, if at all, tonight, or the past several nights in a row. Not only did his voice sound drained, but his eyelids were heavy and red. Hermione hadn't realized until closer inspection just how exhausted he really looked.

"You look terrible, Severus," she blurted out after looking him over.

Severus completely ignored her concern. He gingerly stroked one side of her face, then traced the graceful contours of her mouth. Hermione watched him attentively all the while, relishing in his touch that she had so missed, but his nerve-wracking appearance was proving too great of a distraction to ignore.

"I'm fine," he retorted tenderly, "now that you're here."

"Severus..."

"I'm all right, Hermione," he insisted without agitation, which she immediately found unusual. "How are you?"

"I - I'm all right, I suppose. I'm stuck though. _We_ are stuck, actually. I'm thinking we might need to make a trip to Godric's Hollow. I'm tempted to believe one of the Horcruxes might be there." She caught the wave of panic that surfaced on Severus's pale face and added quickly, "I haven't suggested it yet to Harry or Ron, but if we don't figure something out soon, I might just have to."

Severus surveyed her closely for a long moment, his hand mindlessly reaching out to twirl a few of Hermione's curls around his fingers. "I've worried about you," he professed, sounding quite weary and put out. "I heard some Snatchers were on your tail about a week ago."

"Yes, they were."

Hermione recalled the incident with another shiver. She, Harry, and Ron had only narrowly escaped being caught that day. They had been in the midst of packing up the tent when Snatchers literally stumbled across them, not at all aware of what they would find. Hermione and Ron had just withdrawn the protective enchantments, and barely had time to collect themselves before the Snatchers descended upon them. Hermione quickly took Harry and Ron by the hand and Disapparated them to another location just before the Snatchers reached them.

Hermione relayed the incident to Severus, and when she was through, she noted Severus's eyes fluttering unnaturally. "I'm glad you're all right. The Dark Lord was furious when he received word that none of you were caught."

_That_ bit of news surprised her. "Did - Did he know it was Harry?"

"No, but the Snatchers obviously gathered that you were hiding out, and to the Dark Lord, that isn't exactly a sign of loyalty. To the Dark Lord, hiding means that you're hiding from _him_. The location gave you away to me, but not him. He suspects that you were all Muggle-borns and on the run. The Dark Lord's exceptionally gifted on the one hand, I'll give him that, but irrevocably stupid in other respects."

Hermione couldn't help but titter at this, and Severus did likewise at the wholesomeness of the witch's laughter. Neither could recall, for the moment, the last time they had truly laughed, and it gave them both pause when the lighthearted moment subsided.

Severus eyed Hermione seriously again, his index finger continuing to stroke along her cheek bone. Hermione, too, rubbed her hands along his own, staring deep into those mysterious, compelling eyes she lost sense in.

"How are things going here?" she pressed gently, somewhat afraid to know, based on how her lover was looking.

Severus let out a weighty sigh that matched his fatigue. "Not well at all. The Carrows are more violent than ever. They're very difficult to control. They listen to me, but are more than happy to try things against the students behind my back. And, of course, there's nothing I can necessarily do about it." His voice hushed considerably. "I can't reprimand them for it. If I draw attention to the matter, it will only put me under further scrutiny.

"Your friends, Longbottom and Miss Weasley, have been making the most frequent visits to my office. Miss Lovegood and Mr. Finnigan as well. I... I'm sorry, Hermione, but I can't keep myself from punishing them. I have to—"

Hermione silenced Severus by pressing her hand to his mouth. "Severus, don't. Don't explain it to me again. None of its right, but I know what you're _really_ trying to do. I'm glad you're ensuring that the students aren't being treated how they most certainly would be without you here. Imagine if the Dark Lord had placed one of his other followers in charge of this place. Things would be worse, Severus. Much, much worse..."

"I'm not sure I believe that."

His strained quietude forced Hermione to shake her head. "You're being far too critical of yourself, Severus. I _know_ you're doing your best—"

"Hermione, you haven't been here. You haven't seen the things that go on—"

"I don't have to. It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does." Severus's reply was more emphatic this time. "It makes all the difference _seeing_ what I've done with your own eyes versus simply hearing it."

"Severus, I didn't show up here to listen to you punish yourself." Hermione inclined her head to kiss him with all the fondness and comfort she could. "Now stop it," she scolded him when their lips unlocked. "Tell me what else is happening."

Severus considered the beauty beneath him for a lengthy pause, his eyes trailing thoughtfully about her face, wanting to etch every part of her into memory. His hand reached round to gather one side of her face in his grasp.

"After?" he whispered, to which Hermione's frown turned into an intoxicating smile.

She blushed excitedly, unable to suppress her giddiness. "Oh, very well. _If you insist_."

Severus made some kind of audible grunt and bent down to kiss Hermione once more, their lips sucking and moving in synch. One of Severus's hands slowly traveled down over her body, over her neck, collar bone, breast bone, to one of her bosoms...

There was a sudden rush, followed by a fierce coldness; all of Hermione's clothes were ripped right off her body. Hermione gasped and stared wide-eyed up at her lover, who had his wand in hand and was looking down upon her with only one intention in mind: to ravish her completely and take her as his own.

Hermione's shock quickly wore off, for that seductive trance of his was far too enticing to resist. She still managed to give him a playful glare, however.

"Not fair, Mister. Not fair at all." She goaded his fully clothed form with her shifting eyes. "Off," she commanded, to which Severus raised an eyebrow.

She wasn't about to wait for him to make a decision or rebuff her. Hermione _Accio_'d her wand from somewhere on the floor where her clothes had ended up. It flew into her hand, and she immediately pointed it at Severus's cravat.

Severus hardly flinched at the witch's bold move. He shot her an encouraging, wry smile of his own that told Hermione to go ahead. In an instant, Severus's clothing was whisked off of him and onto the ground, leaving him stark naked above her.

_Rats, the buttons!_ she lamented briefly; she had wanted to unbutton those darn things herself. _Next time..._

Hermione proceeded to tremble, consumed by sight of him above her. All of him. He may have been emotionally scarred, he may have been physically damaged, he may not have been the perfect specimen or a man in his prime, but he was _hers_. And to her, he was beautiful.

"So beautiful," she murmured aloud, gliding her hands over his exposed chest, where several scars made the skin rough and uneven.

Her words took Severus by surprise, and he quickly swallowed the many deeply held insecurities he had, heartened at receiving such delicately encouraging words from her that spoke a very different story about himself. He thought that emotional, reactive part of him had been long buried, but it wasn't; not by a long shot. Hermione's affections had summoned him back to life, and it felt unnaturally strange to _feel_ himself coming alive again in her presence, and with just a few chosen words.

Severus kissed Hermione long and hard, feeling the warmth of her palms weave over his back, pressing him into her as his erection grew. "So beautiful," she repeated against his mouth, deepening their passionate embrace.

Severus heaved back to gaze at the young woman who showed him no disgust or revulsion, and felt his throat constrict as he stared into her loving eyes. "_You_ are beautiful."

His declaration was much more insistent, as if he were debating the matter with her. It made Hermione shake her head, her array of soft curls moving over his pillow. She clung to Severus more tightly, her legs pressing against his outer thighs as she brought him into another sensual kiss.

Eventually, Severus pulled away to kiss her elsewhere. Hermione kept her arms wrapped around his back, taking in the scent of her lover's skin; she could still smell the herbs and spices and musk from before, but also a touch of fresh grass. He smelled sublime. She pecked affectionately at the nape of his neck, hearing his sighs of pleasure against her ear, as well as the brush of his heated breaths on her skin.

"Hermione..."

Hermione arched her back at the mere utterance of her name. He moved his lips over her earlobe several times, nibbling at the supple flesh. Every time, she hitched a sharp breath at the tingling sensation of his teeth gently biting down on her. Then his lips moved onto her neck before slowly drawing down to her shoulder, every so often nipping at her exposed flesh. Hermione let out small, enjoyable gasps, sensing Severus's lips curling at how he was stimulating and arousing her bit by bit.

Her chest heaved as his supple mouth pressed down the center of her breast bone and to the opposite breast he wasn't fondling. Hermione breathed heavily at the wetness of Severus's mouth engulfing one of her hardened nipples, sucking and circling it with his tongue, whilst his opposite hand massaged.

The trickling sensations, mixed with her lover's stimulations and low groans set Hermione ablaze. After another minute or two, Severus eased his mouth down over the ridges of her stomach, loving the delicacy of her soft, youthful skin. Hermione could feel the tip of Severus's nose soon rubbing against her nub as his warm lips met her folds, pressing against them with several erotic, heavy moans that sounded from the back of his throat.

Hermione clamped her hands down upon the heavy bedding, and they twisted themselves into knots as Severus's tongue drew itself between her curtains to lap and lick and taste her senseless. His lips, too, drove themselves into her, massaging her tunnel as his tongue moved in coordination with her vigorous moans of absolute rapture.

His lips were already a marvel to Hermione whenever she was able to savor them against her mouth, but now they were working themselves in an entirely different way. Her very nerve-endings felt as if they were sparking and electrifying. It was heavenly, his tongue weaving in and out of her, pressing against her most sensitive spots, bringing her closer and closer to ecstasy. It was pure magic; the best kind. _He_ was the magic.

"Oh, god...! Severus! Uhh, god, yes...! Sev...erus! _YES!_"

Soon, Hermione curved her spine, threw her head back against the pillow, and came with a slight jerk, her lower body thrusting itself forward against Severus's face, buried between her legs with his hands firmly gripped on her thighs to keep them spread apart.

For a few moments, all Hermione could see was an assortment of bright lights flickering in and out. Slowly, her body slumped against the emerald covers, and she drew her head upward to inspect the wizard still situated between her legs. Her breathing was rapid as she watched Severus pull out of her and rest his chin atop the lower part of her stomach. She almost let out a moan at the hungry, dark stare she received.

Severus's eyes were fixed on her, and his tongue licked at his lips before drawing into a small smirk of satisfaction. He had performed exceedingly well, no doubt, and was pleased with her silent, earnest agreement.

It was another endearing quality about him that Hermione loved, and catching it so unexpectedly only made it more so. It wasn't an expression of arrogance or haughtiness, but a mixture of enthrallment at arousing her to the tenth degree, and relief that he had done relatively well.

_Relatively well?_ Hermione all but snorted at the passing thought; she had to hand it to her lover for being so bloody fantastic, because he was. _Merlin, yes..._

Hermione collapsed her head against the pillow and sighed, more than a little content. "That was amazing," she panted, feeling the tender, circular motions of Severus's fingers stroking her stomach. It made her lips curl into a smile and her cheeks redden in bliss.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Where the hell did you learn how to do _that_ with your tongue?" She heard him chuckle roughly, which made her quiver and spark anew. "Scratch that," she added, scrunching up her nose, "I don't want to know. And I'll reserve that treatment for myself alone."

Hermione closed her eyes to savor the rush of everything, but could sense Severus crawling back up towards the edge of the bed near her. When she reopened her eyes, Severus was towering over her, his striking features only inches from hers.

"It _is_ for you," he professed softly, rubbing his hand along the side of her face. His expression was so exceedingly gentle, so different from its normal reserve that Hermione found herself choking back a wave of raw emotions buried beneath the surface. "I... I hope you know that. It's all for you..."

Hermione's smile extended. Just by peering into his dark eyes, his sentiments were potent, and so very honest. He _did_ love her. There was no doubt in her mind, or his. She reached up to caress his face, loving his momentary loss of control at her touch.

"Make love to me, Severus? Like before? Please, I... I want you to."

Severus regarded her silently for a long moment, and then turned his head to kiss the inside of her palm. An audible moan escaped Hermione's lips again; she couldn't help it. She had never felt so deeply or fully for anyone the way she now did for him. Every passing look, every small gesture, every captivating gaze Severus conveyed made Hermione's heart ache; not in pain, but with a devotion and love she had never felt before.

Severus turned away from her to cast something into his hand. A small phial suddenly appeared, which he then pressed to her mouth.

"Almost forgot," he whispered with awkward, light laughter.

"Oh! Right." Hermione uncorked the phial with her teeth and swallowed the potion. "You sure know how to kill the moment."

"That _was_ a bit of a buzz kill, I'll admit."

"Do you always keep such a contraceptive storage handy?" she additionally teased.

Severus hissed at her, but not abrasively, as he cast the phial away somewhere out of sight. "Would you rather get pregnant by the Number One most wanted man in the wizarding world? I'm not sure that would boost your reputation all that much."

"You're not going to answer my question, are you?" Hermione giggled, seeing his normally ashen cheeks coloring before her eyes.

"No, I don't keep them handy, but..."

Hermione quickly caught on and couldn't help but cast a captivating, humorous smile. When Severus said nothing, only flushed beet red in the face, Hermione tittered softly before pressing her mouth to his.

"You're adorable, you know that?"

"Shut up," he growled back, bringing his nose to hers and baring his teeth, which only made her laugh harder. "I've told you before, that sickly, squeamish term does _not_ apply to me."

"Oh, yes, it does. Sorry to say it to your face, but you're actually quite adorable. Especially when you're trying very hard _not_ to be."

Severus, now visibly self-conscious, which Hermione found more than a little endearing, snarled at her. "I should place a muffling charm on your mouth."

"You'll try." She nuzzled her nose against his before saying, "And I'll shut up only if you kiss me. So get on with it."

"Bossy know-it-all."

"Snarky swine."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "No 'bastard'?"

At this, Hermione become a little more somber. "No, I don't really like it anymore. I... I shouldn't be calling you that, really."

The infamous crease of confusion between Severus's eyes appeared. "Why ever not?"

"Because 'bastard' implies that you're a tainted arsehole. Granted, you certainly _can_ be one, but it also implies that you're somehow less of a person. And you're not, Severus; you're a good man. That term really doesn't apply to you, and I shouldn't use it, not even lightheartedly."

Severus hadn't expected that explanation, and it showed by his understated, taken aback reaction. Then he tilted his head, eying her sportingly again.

"In all fairness, 'adorable' shouldn't apply either."

"Oh, shut up already. _Kiss me_, you aggravating sod."

Severus's flirtatious smirk extended, and finally he conceded to what she wanted, leaning down to covet her mouth again, the sensational taste of him still mixed with her. His erection brushed up against her, and Hermione instinctively spread her legs further apart.

_Merlin, I've wanted this._ It was the only coherent thought the smart Gryffindor could make as her mind, body, and soul were gradually swept away on a current of passion.

Hermione ran her fingers through the back of Severus's hair, clumping the strands into her fists as their kisses deepened, their bodies igniting with heat and electricity. Their voices moaned in unison, their tongues gliding in and out of each other's mouths. Hermione's lips were swollen, and she could taste that Severus's were as well. But it didn't matter. She was smoldering, enraptured and enthralled, just as he was.

She wanted him inside her. She needed to feel the incredible rhythm of him. And she was near the point of screaming for him to screw her senseless. The rational, calm, and collected Hermione was near gone.

"Severus," she panted, clutching him to her as much as she could. "_Please... _Now..."

"You're a demanding little thing," he snarked between excited kisses.

He slid his arms around her back and hugged her close, which she welcomed. She pecked earnestly at his neck and shoulder, feeling his erection rubbing against her.

Hermione bit on her lip to keep from crying out—nay, begging—for Severus to enter her. Then, in one fell swoop, Hermione was lifted up off the pillow with her legs spread over Severus's thighs.

She unlocked lips with him to bore her eyes into his, shivering at the feverish look he bore. Hermione drew upward and with one great thrust, unlike the previous, cautious attempts, Severus entered her. She gasped loudly at first, then they both began to move, their bodies pleading and charging and crying out for release.

Hermione looped her arms around Severus's neck, her hands grabbing hold of fists full of his hair again, and tried to focus on looking at him. She was hypnotized by the pounding rhythm they made, causing her to exclaim, breathe hard, and all but scream his name.

Eventually, Hermione's eyesight grew fuzzy and her head fell back, overtaken by the might of her orgasm. She tightened her grasp on Severus's locks and cried his name as she clenched around him and came at last. It wasn't long before Severus climaxed, too, pounding into her with one final shove, an explicit groan erupting as he came.

Severus's body slackened, his arms still woven around the small of her back. Hermione inclined her head forward, meeting Severus's lips for a few more steamy kisses.

"Merlin, I've missed you," he rasped hoarsely, his breathing hot and heavy.

"Me, too," she managed after she felt oxygen seeping back into her lungs.

After taking some time to come back to reality, the two crawled underneath the covers together, relaxed and euphoric and drowsy. Severus swaddled Hermione at the waist, spooning her with his head planted between her neck and shoulder.

_I've wanted this, too_, Hermione reflected with a hazy smile. Her fingers lovingly stroked one of Severus's forearms that was wrapped around her beneath the covers. He responded by burying his nose in her neck. _I could get used to this. So used to this..._

"So will you tell me now?"

Severus grunted something she didn't understand. Most of his face was submerged behind a handful of her thick curls.

"Tell you what?" she heard him mumble.

"What else is going on? Voldemort? The Horcruxes?"

"Mmm."

Hermione gently turned her head. Severus's eyes were closed, his entire body comfortably limp against her own as his chest expanded and contracted evenly against her back. Hermione leaned back a little and nuzzled the tip of his nose. His eyelashes fluttered open, but only half way.

"Must you do that?" he grumbled sleepily, only Hermione could hear the subtle contentedness in his voice that made her titter.

_Adorable man._

"My apologies." Hermione reached her hand around to graze Severus's cheek and jaw, loving the faint moan it garnered.

"No, you're not."

"Fine, I'm not." Hermione turned away and deepened her head against the soft pillow they shared. "This is so much better than that wretched tent."

Severus chuckled behind her, his arms compressing around her waist. "It had better be."

"Yes, well, I'm also sharing it with two hot and bothered seventeen-year-old boys, so..."

"Oh, that must be absolutely unbearable for an attractive young lady like yourself."

_Attractive?_ Hermione's smile widened, and she was grateful her head was turned away so Severus couldn't see the severe blush on her face.

"Shove off, you," she teased. "And it _is_ bothersome, believe it or not."

"As we are talking about Potter and Weasley, then I am hardly surprised. They're _always_ a bother."

"One of these days, you'll have to tell me why you hate Harry so much."

A short pause followed that remark. Hermione had merely meant to bring it up in conversation, but it seemed Severus took it differently and much more seriously.

"I don't hate him," he whispered, so low that Hermione's ears almost didn't catch what he said.

She turned her head back towards him, but his eyes were shut. "You don't?"

"It's complicated."

"I figured as much." She paused. "His eyes are Lily's but the rest of him is reminiscent of the young man who used to bully you incessantly and took away the one good friend you had in your life. I know I've simplified the matter a great deal—"

"That's an understatement," Severus drowsily interjected with a grunt.

"All the same, I don't know what James Potter was like, but if he was anything like Sirius, then I'm starting to get a clearer mental picture."

"He was very much like Black," Severus returned with a hint of malice. "The two of them fed off each other, and when it came to me, it was never one-on-one. It was always the pair of them, at the very least."

Hermione felt an angry surge rise in her chest at the thought of Severus being bullied, and her eyebrows inadvertently narrowed as she gazed at his tranquil face. It certainly didn't match their morbid conversation.

"I'm sorry, Severus..."

"Mmm." Severus stifled a yawn into Hermione's shoulder. "What did I tell you about that?"

"I don't care. I still have to say it. I really don't like how you were treated..."

"It was a long time ago."

"That doesn't excuse what happened to you."

"No, it doesn't, but now is not the time."

"Well, in any case, Harry's not as bad you might think he is, Severus. I know that's difficult for you to see, and I don't expect you to at this point, but Harry really does mean well. I know he can be a pain in the arse, but he doesn't mean to be. With everything he's gone through, he can't afford to... Are you still awake?"

"Regrettably, yes."

Hermione gave another warm smile and leaned in to kiss the bridge of his nose. "You're right, now's not the time."

"I heard you, Hermione," Severus sighed, "but, like I said, it's more complicated than that..."

"I know." Severus struggled to open his eyes, and they blinked several times in an effort to focus on the lovely witch resting beside him. "I'll need to go in a couple of hours," Hermione lamented, reaching her hand back to brush it through a few hairs at his temple.

"So soon..."

"I'm sure Harry will return to the tent around sunrise to get one of us to take over. I'd better be there, or I'll have some explaining to do."

Severus tried to laugh but it turned into another heavy yawn. "I'd like to think I'd take more than a short explanation, wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh, _very_. You'd take countless rolls of parchment."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"Not in the least."

Severus's eyes grew sharper. "Hermione..."

"I have a feeling where you're going to take that, Severus, and I'd prefer that you didn't right now. Please don't kill the moment."

"I wasn't aware we were having one."

"I meant _tonight_."

"Oh."

"Don't be a buzz kill again."

"Mmm." Hermione giggled again near his face, watching him intently. Severus closed his eyes momentarily before they returned to her, this time more sunken and weary than before. "You'll stay a while?"

Hermione felt a sharp, twisted pang in her chest. That abnormally fragile look of his, so vulnerable without him realizing it, nearly broke her heart. He was so completely adhered to her now that, if she didn't love him the way that she did, his regard and those words would have surely shattered her to pieces.

_How could Lily have turned him away? How on earth could she have turned her back on him as her friend?_

"Of course, I'll stay. You think I want to rush back out into the ruddy cold and that godforsaken tent just yet?"

Severus, however, regarded her seriously. "Then you..." He hesitated. "You won't go without waking me, will you?"

Hermione sighed, dismayed, and tilted her head back to give him another tender kiss and rested her forehead against his. "Of course, I won't. I'm here, Severus. I'm not going to just up and leave. Now go to sleep. You need to rest."

Severus was seemingly too exhausted now to prolong the conversation, no matter how fretful he may have felt about the possibility of being abandoned, even by her. If Hermione wasn't so tired herself, she would have lied awake and reflected on everything, undoutbedly feeling sorry for all he had endured that she still didn't fully comprehend or know about yet. Mere flashes of his vulnerability that she had glimpsed told Hermione just how horrid it must have been, but that was all.

Severus willfully closed his eyes and smothered another yawn against her shoulder. He shifted himself behind her and soon drifted off to sleep, probably—Hermione suspected—for the first solid bout of rest in a long while. Watching him sleep would have been quite a fascinating sight, but Hermione forced herself to join him instead.

Casting a self-awakening charm with her wand, Hermione closed her eyes and soon—between the warm encasing of her lover, the divinely comfortable bed sheets, and Severus's gentle snoring—she wandered off to sleep herself. _Yes_, came the last thought that crept into her mind before she slept, _I could very well get used to this. This is all that I want..._

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**A/N #2: I promise that more exciting things will start to unravel in the next several chapters...**

**I've been spoiled with more wonderful fan art. Check out PiccolaScintilla's latest work from Chapter 29 (link's also on my Profile page): _piccolascintilla at deviantart dotcom_ _[slash] art[slash]I-had-no-choice-317743263_**

**All the fan art, feedback, story favorites, etc. have been wonderful. Thanks guys! :)_  
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	32. To Stay or To Go

**A/N: You may already have noticed that my updating schedule has changed. Hopefully, if I can get a good deal of writing done over the next few weeks, I can try to get back to the every-three-day timeline; but I can't make any promises. The old timeline is just too pressing and difficult to keep up with right now due to RL interferences that can't be helped. I'll try to update more than once a week if I can, but I'll have to see how things go.  
**

**For those still actively engaged in this story, I hope you can understand this change and be patient with me, as I'm doing the best that I can. As for this chapter, there's a bit of everything here...  
**

_**Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.**_

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

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**Chapter 32: To Stay or To Go**

It seemed like no time at all before Hermione was awakened by an internal ringing in her ears. Grumbling irritably, she fumbled for her wand on the nightstand, her eyes squeezed shut, and muttered the necessary incantation to stop the self-awakening charm.

"Merlin..." she groused into the darkness, sighing heavily before opening one eye. "It can't be."

She felt the wizard behind her stir, his arms still loosely bound around her torso. He moaned something she didn't quite catch, but his deep gruff was enough to awaken her further. Smiling, Hermione turned her head to meet Severus's, soft and serene with his eyes still closed. She kissed him gently on the forehead to coax him awake.

"I have to go," she mumbled unhappily, to which Severus reluctantly opened an eye.

"No," he grouched, sounding like a stubborn child; he hauled her ever so slightly into him to prevent her from moving. "Just a few more minutes..."

"Oh, I know what _that_ will turn into if I allow it." Hermione giggled before her expression turned somber. She extended her arm around to run her fingers through his limp locks. "I wish I could stay..."

"So stay," Severus managed through a stifled yawn.

Hermione yawned, too, and fully turned over to face her lover, still barely awake. His eyelids had closed again, and he didn't so much as flinch when she pressed her face to his and glided an arm around his back. She pecked at his lips, waiting for him to respond, which he did.

"You really shouldn't have insisted that I wake you because it's nearly impossible," she teased, letting her nose nuzzle against his. She knew that wasn't necessarily true, judging by Severus's insanely quick reflexes, but still found him quite adorable this way—drowsy and gentle—nonetheless.

With a faint hiss, Severus grumbled, "I didn't want you to go without saying goodbye is all."

"Nor would I."

"That's reassuring."

"You honestly think I would?" Severus didn't say anything. The pause was a bit too troubling for Hermione, who leaned in for another kiss and inspected him closely. "Severus?"

Severus stretched his long legs before slumping back into his former relaxed repose, keeping his eyes shut. "No, I don't think you would, but..."

_Lily probably would have_, she reflected bitterly.

His unfinished sentence had drifted away, leaving Hermione to think he might be falling back asleep. She brushed a few straggly hairs away from his face, smiling all the while.

"I know what you're thinking, and you needn't worry about _me_ doing that. I won't."

The atmosphere was too perfect. Had she really been in the woods, in the freezing cold, with Harry and Ron just a few hours ago? It felt almost too good to be real.

Hermione eased her lips over the bridge of Severus's nose and pecked at his warm skin, at his exposed cheek, at his scrunched up neck, and, lastly, his shoulder peeking out from underneath the covers. _Yes, this_ was _too good to be true..._

Severus let out a prolonged sigh and lazily reopened one eye, his entire face, to Hermione, beautifully de-stressed. She brushed herself up against him with one arm still latched behind his back.

"I have some questions before I go..."

"Merlin, no," Severus groused, sending Hermione into a small fit of laughter. "Can I at least wake the hell up first?"

"No, you need to go back to sleep after I go."

Severus's eye drifted shut, so Hermione pressed his back, gliding her hand up and down. She could feel the various ridges and rough patches of skin and was surprised at how accustomed she had already grown to the scars. Earlier that night, she had barely even noticed them, too wrapped up in the wizard himself to care or give them much thought. She still wanted to know how they had come to be there, but wasn't quite sure if she could ask just yet.

"So?" Severus prodded, burrowing his head into the pillow they were sharing.

"We _still_ haven't managed to destroy the locket yet. Any ideas?"

The edges of Severus's lips drew into the faintest smile, though his eyes remained closed. "So the know-it-all is stumped?"

"Git."

"You're not as vulgar in the early morning, are you? Is it something you wind yourself up to during the day?"

"Stop avoiding my question. We're talking about Voldemort's _precious soul_."

"Just what I would wish to discuss when I have you in my bed..."

Hermione bit her lip to stifle more laughter. "Point taken."

Severus shifted a little beneath the covers. "What was the general consensus before?"

"Pardon?"

"The last time we discussed the Horcruxes... In my office... When you had broken the rules and were out after curfew..."

Hermione twirled a strand of Severus's black hair around her finger. "The Sword of Gryffindor?"

"Mmm. Very good."

Hermione nudged his nose. "Could you hand it over to me? Temporarily?"

She felt a little foolish for asking, but then why should she? If there was the real probability that it could destroy the locket, she should have it.

"Word has it that it's in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault..."

"Oh?" Hermione waited, but soon sensed what Severus was doing. "Don't toy with me, Severus. It's a fake, isn't it? You entrusted her with safeguarding a fake sword, didn't you? Sneaky sod."

Severus gave a tired, quiet snort. "So it would seem..."

Hermione's face turned downcast. "If she or Voldemort find out..."

"They won't."

"Severus, you don't know that—"

"Call it intuition or whatever you want. It's fine, Hermione. Don't concern yourself with it."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Even if the man's eyes were shut, she would still stare him down all the same.

"You may be brilliant, but that doesn't mean I can't still worry."

"You have Horcruxes to focus on," he growled back, though his attempt at reprimanding her was feeble.

"Speaking of which, can you hand over the blasted sword?"

There was a short pause before Severus finally addressed her question. "I was hoping you might have actually found more Horcruxes by now to destroy before I handed it over..."

Hermione scrunched up her nose, not making sense of his rationale. "Well, it's rather difficult finding these things, you know. They could be anywhere."

"True." Sensing the woman beside him growing increasingly more anxious, Severus continued, "Potter needs to find it."

"What?"

"Dumbledore instructed me to see to it that Potter finds the sword. If you take it, that will defeat the purpose."

"Oh... But—"

"What would be your excuse if you showed up in the tent this morning with the Sword of Gryffindor?"

"Oh... Good point. But still, Sev—"

"You'll have it soon enough, Hermione, I promise." Severus started to yawn but tried to keep talking. "In fact, I'll be glad to have it off my hands. Your annoying little friends already tried to steal it from me."

"Oh?" Hermione was surprised to hear that. "Ginny? Seamus?"

"Miss Weasley, Miss Lovegood, and Mr. Longbottom."

"Good for them," she said through a big smile. "I suppose that wouldn't have been good for you."

"No. If the Dark Lord or any of the others got wind of me possessing the sword, fake or otherwise, there would be hell to pay."

Despite their radiating body heat and the heavy covers, Hermione shivered at the thought of Severus getting caught. She unconsciously guided her hand up and down the curve of his back and leaned further into him.

"How will you see to it that Harry ends up with the real sword?"

"Soon," Severus mumbled drowsily. "You'll see."

"Tease."

Severus smirked before his mouth slouched again. "Potter needs to feel destined to have it. It might boost his confidence..."

Hermione had had a lingering bad feeling in the pit of her stomach; a sentiment she was half-tempted more than once to ask Severus in the months they had spent apart. If she hadn't been so confused and upset at the time, and if circumstances had been different, perhaps she would have shared it with him. But now, in the comforts of this warm bed, Hermione couldn't will herself to ask. Not just yet...

"Hermione?" he unexpectedly piped up, his voice still sluggish.

Hermione blinked. "Yes?"

Severus had opened his eyes, though they were bloodshot and droopy. "I've been meaning to ask you..."

"Yes?"

"How's that wretched feline of yours?"

"Crooks?"

"Is there another?"

Hermione giggled, grateful to be off the morbid topic that was formulating in her head. "He's all right. I'm pretty sure he misses _you_ though."

"Doubtful."

"Stop it."

"That cat's a prude. You really have spoiled him far too much."

Hermione's smile broadened. "Wow... You really miss him, don't you?"

"Not at all," Severus hissed at first, before it turned into another stifled yawn. "What have you done with him? I can't imagine him trekking along with you these past several months. Seems rather beneath his standards to resort to camping."

Hermione snickered at the funny image that conjured up. "True, it would certainly be beyond his comfort level. I left him with my parents."

Hermione was planning to say more, but an unexpected lump formed in her throat, forcing her to turn away from him. She could feel an emotional heat trickling up through her chest and tried to suppress it by biting on her lower lip and staring at the ceiling.

There was no fooling the brilliant wizard at her side, however, who caught the flicker of pain in her eyes before she looked away. He titled his head, his focus newly sharpened on her as he studied her contorted profile.

"Hermione? What is it?"

"N - Nothing..."

With his eyes squinting, Severus reached out to rub the back of his hand along the side of her face. Hermione instinctively leaned into his touch, overcome with emotion. Severus was stunned to find fresh tears pouring down her face.

"Did something happen?" he pressed more urgently. "What's the matter?"

Hermione met his concerned gaze and placed her hand on the one that was stroking her cheekbone. "My parents," she whispered, her voice wrought with pain. "I... I wiped their memories. They don't even know I exist anymore."

Severus stared at her without any animated form of reaction for a time before he silently motioned her to return to him. Hermione easily scooted back into Severus's snug embrace and allowed him to cradle her as she cried softly into his chest.

After letting her cry uninterrupted for a minute or two, Severus murmured close to her face, "I'm sorry."

"So am I," she managed through fresh tears.

"When did this happen?"

"Beginning of the summer."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

There was no anger or resentment, but the mixture of concern and alarm in how Severus framed the question made Hermione reach her arms round his torso to bring him as close to her as possible. In that moment, she was thankful, so terribly grateful to have him to turn to for solace. Even her closest friends didn't quite understand what it had meant for Hermione to do what she did. Somehow, she suspected, Severus would understand a lot better.

"I'm sorry," she replied, sniffling, "I guess I've just been trying not to think about it too much."

Severus didn't press her on that point, but did ask another question. "You Obliviated all of yourself from their lives?"

"Yes..."

"Every memory?"

"Yes. Every single one."

Severus was admittedly a little shocked; first, that Hermione could perform something of that magnitude, as the mind was an exceedingly dangerous thing to toy with, and not at all easy to cast spells on without inflicting considerable damage, and, secondly, that she had managed to convince herself to do it at all.

"That was very brave of you," he whispered encouragingly, tightening his arms around her as she buried her face in his hair. "I can't imagine how difficult that must have been."

"It was horrible. I... I wanted to talk to you. I really wish I could have spoken to you about it first. I wanted to, but..."

Severus could feel Hermione's mouth pouting against his skin. "I _should_ have been there to help you or at least offer you emotional support. I'm sorry that I wasn't..."

Hermione sniveled against Severus's neck. "I don't want you to feel guilty, Severus. There's no way you could've been there with everything you must have been going through, too." Hermione hadn't yet gotten around to asking what he was up to in all the months they had spent apart, though she had her suspicions that none of it was remotely pleasant for him. "I... I just wish things could've been different. For both of us."

Hermione brought her face out of hiding to meet his, only to find his own dark eyes were now just as forlorn as her own. Severus gently pecked away the tears marking her cheeks, his eyes never diverting from hers.

"As do I, my dear." He paused to reflect upon the miserable summer he had had alone without Hermione's company. "I could have used having you around..."

Hermione forced a smile. "So you missed me then?"

Severus didn't return her smile, but his expression grew softer as he stared deep into her eyes. "Yes. _Very much_."

Hermione scrutinized him thoughtfully. Her heart felt so unnaturally full she thought it might burst. Hermione brought her mouth to his again for another kiss.

Severus brushed away a few curls near her face once their lips drew apart. "Your parents," he started.

"Yes?"

Severus was reluctant to say too much, but if it was the only source of comfort he could provide her, he resolved himself to say whatever was necessary, even if he didn't believe a word of it. "I'll help you. When this is all over, I'll help reverse the damage."

_'When this is over'?_ Severus's conscience berated with a twinge of bitterness. _You don't believe that, Severus. You shouldn't give her false hope. And you still have much to tell her, Severus. So much to tell her..._

"You - You think that will be possible?"

As confident a spell caster as Hermione was, she remembered those defining words Severus had told her and her peers years ago: how the mind was a 'many layered thing,' complicated and exceedingly complex; facts she already knew, of course, but it had certainly run through her mind in the days leading up to performing that spell on her parents. She ultimately didn't know if she would be able to reverse it, which was what had made reaching the decision so stressful and terrifying. Hearing Severus's words, however, gave her reason to hope.

"I don't wish to speak too soon," he drawled carefully. "I'll have to see the extent of the effects your spell may have had on their minds, but if there's the slightest probability that I can put things back to right, I will, Hermione. You have my word."

Unaware of the wizard's looming thoughts, Hermione brought Severus into the firmest hug she could; a small token he didn't object or rebuff. "Thank you," she uttered, sounding more than a little heartbroken. "Thank you, Severus. You have no idea what that means to me..."

"I think I'm getting an inkling," he purred next to her ear, delighted to hear her infectious laughter, albeit only a fraction of it.

Hermione pulled back to shower him with more kisses, which he accepted, and not without much internal guilt. "I really _do_ have to get going," she grumbled as she reluctantly moved her mouth away from his.

Hermione scooted out of Severus's arms and fumbled for her clothing scattered along the floor. Severus laid back on his pillow to admire her naked form making its way around the room, hunched over with her wild curls tumbling every which way, not at all aware of being ogled at.

"You should wear nothing more often. It suits you."

Hermione shot up with her garments in hand, her wild curls falling every which way against gravity. She blushed furiously and narrowed her eyes.

"Bollocks," she laughed nervously, causing Severus to project a devilish smirk.

"You should."

Hermione hadn't really thought about how exposed she was until that very moment, and her self-consciousness nearly knocked her off her feet. She hastily threw her attire onto her side of the bed and proceeded to dress while Severus eyed her intently all the while.

"Do you intend to gawk at me while I dress, Mister?"

"Of course."

Hermione threw her sweater over her flushed face and attempted to reproach him with her eyes. "Scoundrel."

"You're sexy. I can't help myself."

"_Sexy?_"

Hermione's cheeks were on fire, and she quickly diverted her eyes from his. Her lover actually thought she was _sexy?_ No one had ever told her such a thing; certainly not Ron, for instance. Hermione Granger wasn't sexy. Cute, perhaps, or even fairly decent if she slapped on some makeup or dolled herself up enough, but _not_ sexy.

"Hermione," she heard Severus call to her on the edge of her berating consciousness.

She blinked and refocused her attention on the reclining man in the middle of the four-poster bed. He was lying on the pillow they had shared all night with one arm—his left, which bore the visible Dark Mark—propped up against it. It was such a visible contradiction—the Dark Mark versus the decent, misunderstood wizard who wore it—that it gave Hermione pause.

Severus's gaze wasn't critical, only thoughtful as he stared at her with those normally inscrutable eyes, now reflective and open. Looking at him, Hermione had a strong urge to hop back into bed beside him, and only just managed to suppress her desires.

"You _are_ sexy, you know."

Hermione felt her heart beat a little faster at that proclamation, as if he had been reading her inner self-doubts. _Perhaps I am..._ There was something brutally candid about those words coming from him that made Hermione believe him. Perhaps she really _was_ sexy, after all...

Aware that she was still blushing like mad, Hermione threw on her pants and crawled back towards him, a wry smile etched across her mouth. She planted an affectionate, deep kiss on Severus's lips and drew a hand across his chest.

"Thank you," she stated with her mouth pressed to his.

"No," he whispered back, and his fingers glided over the smallness of her smooth back, "thank _you_. For everything."

If Hermione could have magically captured this moment in time, she would have. She could feel her grin spreading from ear to ear but didn't care how silly she probably looked. Severus didn't seem to mind, and the love he bore for her, evident in the depths of his eyes alone—but also in every little gesture he made—brought her more pleasure than she ever could have hoped for.

At a time of great trial and imminent danger, Hermione was beyond grateful to have this small corner of happiness. It meant the world to her, and she could tell just by gazing down at Severus—the once masked man she couldn't decipher—how much this meant to him as well.

Hermione kissed him one final time before reluctantly moving away, though their hands interlocked as she glided back to stand at the edge of the bed. "When will I see you?" she pressed quietly, her fingers tightening around his.

"Soon." Severus stirred beneath the covers. "Hopefully..."

"You won't leave me hanging will you?"

Severus gave her a soft smile that set Hermione's stomach aflutter. "I'll try not to."

"You'd better not, or I'll nag the hell out of you."

Severus's eyes glimmered amidst the dying fireplace, the only source of light in the room. "You'll_ try_," he corrected and started to raise himself up.

Hermione kneeled onto the bed and gently pushed him back against the pillow with ease. "Go back to sleep," she ordered.

Severus gave a protesting, low grow. "I have to get up, too, you know."

Hermione shook her head, however, and pecked the top of his brow. "Not yet, you don't."

"I won't sleep once you're gone."

_That_ brought another smile to her face and warmed her chest. "You could always take something, Severus."

"Sleeping Draughts don't do anything for me, remember?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and gave a dramatic sigh. "Then try to go back to sleep for my sake, if not yours, all right?"

Severus tapered his eyebrows, but it was obvious that he was still worn out. "I'm not tired," he replied stubbornly, sounding like a child.

"Rubbish."

"I'm not," he grumbled, before being overtaken by another yawn, which he tried to hide behind his hand to no avail.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, right, of course you aren't," she baited with another shake of her head. She bent down to kiss him again, though his eyes had started to close. "Unreasonable, bullheaded arse. Do as I say and go back to sleep."

"Bossy know-it-all," he tried to retort, but with a sluggish exhaustion that was clear as day.

Hermione nuzzled her nose against his, staring at his now closed eyes. "You're a git, but I still love you."

"Merlin knows why..."

"Shut it, Severus Snape, or I'll hex you."

"You wouldn't dare." His growl didn't contain its normal bite and was barely decipherable.

"You're tired, so it would be fairly easy to do."

"I wouldn't attempt it if I were you." Hermione snickered close to his face, her one hand gliding up and down his arm hidden beneath the blankets. She was caught off her guard when Severus unexpectedly muttered, his words quiet and depleted, "I love you, too..."

Even though the words were slurred, Hermione was still startled to hear them, not to mention so deeply affected it was as if she had had the very wind knocked out of her. They would take some getting used to, and probably wouldn't be uttered too often, but the sincerity that lay behind them was all that mattered to Hermione. For the once reserved, unemotional wizard she had fallen for, they were heartfelt and so very real.

"I love you more," Hermione whispered back, pecking his cheek tenderly as she finally drew back from the bed at long last.

She lingered for a moment, surveying him as he started to fall back asleep, her eyes soaking in how wonderfully relaxed he was. His entire face had shifted into one of rare tranquility. It only seemed to surface when he slept and was unimpaired by the burdensome realities of his every day.

Hermione started to make her way over to the center of the room when his groggy voice called out to her, halting her in her tracks. "Be careful, Hermione. Please..."

Hermione turned around, but Severus's eyes were still closed, his profile reclined against the cushiony pillow. Hermione continue to wear her smile, and replied softly, "Always am. Be careful yourself."

"Mmm."

"Is that the best reassurance you can give me?"

Perhaps her mind was simply protecting her from the gravity of the perilous situations they both found themselves in, but Hermione couldn't quite keep herself from displaying her happiness. For now. Here, in the confinements of this private sanctuary, she was content, and wanted to remain so before she disappeared back to the harshness of reality.

"Shut up and go already," Severus managed through another stifled yawn, "or I'll never fall back asleep."

There was more lighthearted laughter—that magical sound that bordered on music to Severus's ears—before a crackle and a pop issued from somewhere nearby, and Hermione's voice disappeared like the snapping of fingers. The atmosphere was too quiet for Severus, who wearily opened his eyes.

_You need to tell her soon, Severus_, his very-much-awake conscience shouted at him. _The Dark Lord's plans. She needs to be warned. Soon. It doesn't matter if you don't have a Plan B in place yet. If you let this go too long, there won't be adequate time to prepare..._

* * *

Lord Voldemort paced back and forth before the roaring fireplace at Malfoy Manor, thinking as Severus kept his hands locked behind his back, his demeanor rigid and impenetrable. Lucius was fiddling nervously with his cane nearby, and Draco stood at a considerable distance away with Narcissa. She had an arm wrapped around her son in a protective, motherly fashion. Her sister, Bellatrix, however, was the only one skipping about in the background, cackling gleefully and without issue.

Severus rolled his eyes as she passed him by, but then her head popped round his shoulder in what he easily figured was an attempt to rattle or unhinge him. "You getting all seeded in your pants, Snivellus?" she jabbed in her high-pitched vocals that, to Severus, was the equivalent to fingernails clawing at a blackboard. "The Mudblood likes you, and I think you like her just an itty bitty bit, too!"

"Fascinating and wrong, as usual," Severus responded with a low drawl.

Bellatrix pouted and squinted. It wasn't the reaction she was aiming for, which was usual when it came to the professor. She pressed herself up behind him and inclined her lips close to his ear so that no one else would hear.

"I _know_ you care about the wretched little Mudblood," she whispered dangerously, making Severus's neck hairs stand on end, "and I can assure you, before the boy is taken, I will make a point of proving it to the Dark Lord."

"Your threats are useless, Bellatrix," Severus issued in a biting tone. "Just as you are to this whole operation. I've gained the girl's trust. What have you done that's been at all helpful?"

Bellatrix drew back, her dark eyes fuming with rage. "You snide, arrogant—" she started to squawk, when her master's commanding voice interrupted her.

"Quiet, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix quickly stepped away from Severus and bowed her head, appeasing her master as always. Voldemort turned around to face Severus head on.

"I am pleased, Severus, that, despite the demise of Dumbledore, you still managed to gain the trust of a member of Potter's inner circle. I was worried that all your efforts before might now be for naught."

"It wasn't difficult, my Lord," Severus replied without feeling. "She's exceedingly gullible."

A delicious grin spread across Voldemort's mouth that secretly sickened Severus to his stomach. "Excellent," he hissed. "We will be able to put our plan into action soon. When the boy decides to visit dear old Mummy and Daddy at Godric's Hollow, Nagini will be waiting to seize them both."

Severus's Occlumency-shielded mind raced. Now that Voldemort was laying out their plans in full, time was of the essence. And he still didn't have another plan in place.

_I have to get word to Hermione; tell her to stay away from Godric's Hollow. But there's a good probability that one of his Horcruxes could be there... How do I keep her away? And how can I do so without getting myself directly involved in a second attempted kidnapping?_

_The Dark Lord will not be pleased; he may even seek to blame me when this doesn't go according to plan._ The notion was dismissed as fleetingly as it entered his mind. _So be it._

Severus had recently been giving a great deal of thought to the fit he had had many months before while still at Hogwarts, and in Hermione's presence. In the dream—_or was it a dream?_—Severus had been seated in one of Lucius's rooms. Hermione had been caught by Snatchers, and Severus had gone as far as to suggest Legilimency as a method of torture to break his young love.

Had that really been just a dream? Or was it foreshadowing? He had somehow been the one to lure Hermione to Malfoy Manor, and that was something Severus was dead set on avoiding, ever since the possibility had entered his subconscious.

_Send for her, Severus. Tell her everything you can. And pray that she forgives you, and that the Dark Lord shows you mercy..._

* * *

Hermione was jolted back to reality a little too quickly for her liking. She only just managed to avoid getting caught, for one. Harry had heard her Apparate into the tent and came flying in with his wand drawn, ready to strike. His abrupt presence catapulted Ron out of bed, too, and Hermione was pretty much spared from any sort of explanation about the noise she had made when the two boys proceeded to go at it, Ron griping about being woken up and Harry telling him to 'get off his lazy arse and take over the watch shift.'

Ron and Harry remained at each other's throats in the days that followed. When they weren't yelling at one another, they avoided each other altogether, but the awkwardness of the situation lingered in the tent the trio shared, and she could almost cut the atmosphere like a knife. Hermione selfishly detested being back in their miserable company, though her and Harry continued to get along well enough for the most part.

There were so many things Hermione had wanted to discuss with Severus that time never allowed for, particularly in regards to the Horcruxes, but she gathered that if Severus had found something out, he would have told her before she left. Still, her time with him had been so limited, and though all the more special, terribly unfair.

Hermione tried not to reflect too much. It was only distracting and disheartening and made her feel lousy over missing him. What made her situation worse was that she couldn't share her secret with anyone. She was in love—head-over-heels—and couldn't tell a single soul. She yearned to tell _someone_, but the notion was simply impossible. Would it always be this way?

The week that followed, things took a turn for the worst. It started with Ron confronting Hermione about the pair of them, something she had only narrowly avoided on account of Ron's and Harry's constant complaints about each other.

"I feel like you don't care!" he spat at her one evening outside the tent.

Hermione remained seated, but gave Ron an insulted look. "Ron, that isn't true! Not at all! You're one of my best friends—"

"That's not how I mean it, 'Mione, and _you know it!_"

Hermione swallowed her nerves at what was coming, simply unavoidable anymore. She couldn't deny it to herself either. Not only was she in love with Severus, but another reality had become clear to her as well, one that had surfaced a long time ago that she wasn't quite ready to accept at the time: she would never be in love with Ron.

Even if she and Severus didn't ultimately work out—and their future wasn't something they had discussed much at all in the midst of everything else going on—Hermione knew in her heart that she could never possibly fall in love with Ron, not now or in the future. It had all been a fancy, nothing more than a school girl crush, and what she had with Severus was far more real, much deeper, and more mature.

"Ron, I..." she tried to formulate how to approach him but found herself a bit tongue-tied.

"What the hell's going on with you, 'Mione?"

"I..."

"I'm getting fed up! I've tried to be patient, I've tried to give you time to come around to me, but you just don't seem interested, and you're sketchy whenever I touch you or get anywhere near you. Do I disgust you or something?"

"No, of course you don't, Ron!"

"Do you not like me touching you?"

"Um, well—"

"You do, don't you?" he snarled heatedly.

"That's not—"

"_Then what is it?_"

"I... I'm sorry, Ron." Hermione lowered her eyes before gathering enough courage to meet his angry glare again. "I'm not in love with you."

Her voice was so low that it was almost inaudible above the November breeze. Ron's expression went from fury to befuddlement in a flash.

"What?"

"I - I don't love you, Ron," she issued even quieter than before.

"But... What? _How?_"

Hermione could feel her insides ripping apart at the seams as she watched her ginger friend trying to grasp the real meaning behind her words. She desperately wanted to throw her arms around him and console him, but it wouldn't be what he wanted right now, or a smart move on her part. He needed to hear the words. He deserved to know how she truly felt.

"Ron, listen..." Hermione got to her feet and threw down her copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ that she had been rereading. "I thought that I cared more for you than a friend. And at one time, I did—"

"One time?"

"Um, yes, but I don't love you in that way, Ron. I haven't for a while now. I've just been trying to convince myself that I needed more time—"

"_What?_" Ron's voice rose, along with the glow in his cheeks. "So you've been toying with me this whole time?"

"No!" Hermione threw up her hands as an added emphasis. "No, I - I wasn't trying to lead you on, Ron. _Honest_. I thought I would come to care for you eventually the way I had before, but... It just... It just isn't there. I just don't care for you the way that you want and deserve." Hermione bit her lip. "I'm sorry, this is all coming out terribly wrong, I just—"

"No," Ron interjected, his voice rumbling like a pending thunderstorm. His eyes turned into slits, which caused Hermione to rear back. "You've made yourself perfectly clear."

With that, Ron stomped off into the tent, leaving Hermione to herself. "Ron!" she called after him, hoping he might reappear.

When he didn't, however, Hermione dashed into the tent after him, only to find him throwing his things into a bag, kicking at items along the floor or pounding his garments into his bag with his fists. Harry came around a corner, curious at all the commotion Ron was making, and his green eyes became alarmed.

"What's going on?" he asked a distraught Hermione before turning his attention to the angry redhead, confused. "Where are you going?"

"What'd you care?" Ron spat with his back turned away.

"Ron, please," Hermione whispered, shattered at what was happening right in front of her eyes, just as she had been fearing for well over a month. "Don't go. Don't leave us..."

"Why shouldn't I?" Ron snapped his head round to face them, infuriated and emotionally wrecked. "You've been leading me on," he turned to Harry, "and you don't know what the bloody hell you're doing!"

Harry's face fumed. "I told you what you signed up for."

"Yeah! Only we haven't made _any_ headway whatsoever! You don't bloody know your head from your arse about these ruddy Horcruxes! It's hopeless! We'll never find them so long as _you_ can't figure out a damned thing!"

"Ron, stop!" Hermione pleaded, but Harry advanced on Ron before she could get to either of them.

"So leave! You don't want to help us? Then GO!"

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Ron baited between gritted teeth.

"Of course we wouldn't, Ron!" Hermione tried to interject.

Ron shot her a look of utter revulsion that twisted her stomach. "Yes, you would! I knew I was right all those months ago when I confronted you both about liking each other! This is what you've wanted all along, isn't it? To be alone, just the two of you! _Isn't it?_"

Hermione's mouth dropped, and Harry's glare intensified. "You're an idiot!" he growled before he could stop himself. "We've told you before that we don't feel for each other in that way at all, Ron! When are you ever going to get it? When are you ever going to stop talking smack on everyone else when it comes to your own pathetic insecurities?"

"PISS OFF!"

"Of course! Typical!" Harry retorted through bitter bouts of laughter that Hermione hadn't heard before. "Always blaming everyone else! So, what, 'Mione doesn't want to be with you? She's told you that before, Ron, and she never made you any promises either, as far as I know. I understand that you're hurt, but there's no reason to act like such a dick!"

"What do you know about it?" Ron shouted, his hands clenched at his sides.

"I know that if I talked to your sister the way you speak to 'Mione, she'd tell me to go fly a kite! And she'd have every reason for it!"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock, and a wave of panic swept over Harry, too, that she easily caught. Ron stepped back, equally stunned.

"What?" he whispered, his mouth hanging open. "Ginny?"

"Erm, yes," Harry replied, resolving to speak fast. "We like each other, Ron. We did all of last year, we just couldn't muster up the courage to tell you because we knew you'd take it the way you take every shocking bit of news: with anger and aggression."

Ron was stumped, his mouth agape as he stared at his close mate with fresh eyes. "Have you..." He was too disgruntled to complete his sentence, but both Hermione and Harry knew what he was getting it.

Harry's eyes flashed. "No!"

There was a bit of relief that passed over Ron's face before his anger resurfaced. "_Well, you'd better not!_"

"Ron, stop it!" Hermione pleaded again, knowing what was about to ensue. It was only a matter of time.

"She's practically an adult, mate," Harry half-whispered with a challenging sort of glare. "You won't be able to have any say over her much longer. I like her, Ron, and she likes me. That's that!"

"_You!_"

"Oh, give it a rest!" Harry dismissed Ron with a wave of his hand. "I thought you were leaving. Well? GO ON! Go for all I care! Some friend you've turned out to be!"

"FINE! I _am_ going!"

Flustered, Ron gathered up his belongings and turned to Hermione, staring her down with all his manifesting rage. "Ron," Hermione tried again, but her mouth was parched, and her eyes were stinging with tears. "Please don't do this. We _need_ you here. We all need each other."

"Spare me your wretched lies!" he spat in return, causing Hermione to take a step back as if she had been slapped. "I wish you both luck in your search for those stupid Horcruxes!" He glanced at Harry one final time, his pupils dilated and fueled with rage. "You won't find 'em! And you won't win this war! It's bloody hopeless, and you're both fools for thinking you can beat him! And I'm sure it won't be long now before you become the glorious hero once again as a martyr!"

"_RON!_"

Hermione could hardly believe what was happening anymore. It felt more like a horrible nightmare than reality. Ron didn't seem fazed one bit, but Harry's face had changed. It was no longer hardened like stone, ready for a fight, but vulnerable and scarred. His eyes burned, not with equal fury, but with melancholy for the friend he had just lost.

"You really _are_ a bastard," he stated after an agonizing pause, only his voice wasn't at all loud but quiet and reserved. "To hell with you..."

There was a subtle alteration in Ron's heated look, as if he regretted his outburst, but it quickly died away as he took his leave, taking one last angry shot at Hermione before disappearing out of the tent. Hermione stood frozen on the spot, as did Harry, before her legs finally willed themselves to move. She spun around and trampled out into the night after him.

"Ron!" she cried out, desperate to get to him before he Disapparated. Ron, however, wouldn't look back. He simply kept walking, his feet pounding against the crinkly, fallen leaves and scattered twigs. "Ron, _please!_ Please come back! Don't! _RON!_"

Ron twisted himself around, and even in the darkness, without being able to make out his features, Hermione could tell by his stance that he was beyond furious. "Go back to him! Go on! Go back to the bloody hero!"

"Ron, for Merlin's sake, what's gotten into you?"

"_GO ON!_" he shouted at the top of his lungs, his temper frightening Hermione a bit.

"Did you hear a word of what Harry said?" Before he could reply, Hermione threw up a hand to stop him. "Listen, I know you're hurt, Ron, and I'm sorry. _I'm so, so sorry_. This is all my fault." Her tears began to slide down her cheeks, and her voice grew unsteady, despite her best efforts not to cry. "I should have told you a lot sooner. I just wasn't sure at the time. I'm sorry it's not what you wanted, _I really am!_ I love you like a brother, Ron. _Please!_ Please come back to us? Don't leave!"

"That's not good enough!"

Hermione's lower lip began to quiver, her mind thinking for a fleeting moment that this might be the last time she ever saw Ron Weasley, and she couldn't bear the thought. "Please, Ron," she begged, this time in a hushed, strained sort of plea that broke her heart.

"You really don't love me as more than a friend?"

He was baiting her—his question a mixture of resentment and hurt—but Hermione couldn't will herself to lie. Not anymore, and certainly not to appease him, which would only make matters worse. Hermione wiped at her tears and shook her head back and forth, affirming her sentiments loud and clear, though her voice caught in her throat.

"_FINE!_" he bellowed, and with that, his body began to whirl.

"_NO, RON!_"

Ron vanished on the spot, Disapparating to someplace she didn't know. There would be no going after him now. No way of trying to settle things or comfort him for all the pain she had caused.

Hermione finally let the tears cascade without shame or restraint. Her fists drew up around her face as she struggled not to unleash all her emotional turmoil into the night air. Then she felt a pair of familiar arms wrap themselves around her and hold her tight, in a manner as only close friends could do. They weren't the arms she really wanted to console her, but she tried to ignore that dull ache.

"Perhaps this was meant to be," she heard Harry grumble, sounding just as crestfallen as she felt. "Maybe Ron was never the loyal mate we thought he was..."

Harry continued to hold fast to Hermione, and brought his head to hers as she sobbed openly for the friend they had just lost, probably for good. _Severus_, her mind was screaming, desperate to be heard. _I need to see you! Please send for me! Please! Take me away from here! PLEASE!_

* * *

**A/N #2:** **I will pretty much be keeping in synch with the timeline events of _DH _(there's a great timeline available on The HP Lexicon, if anyone's interested in following along). Right now, we are in mid-November of the story. Because Voldemort's name jinx isn't mentioned in _DH_ until late December (by Ron after he returns to them), I'm going to go with the assumption that, for the moment, it hasn't been implemented yet; hence, why Hermione can freely say his name. The jinx _will_ be addressed in an upcoming chapter._  
_**


	33. The Very Thought of You

**A/N: This chapter was _a lot_ of fun to write, and there were elements that popped up and surprised me, too. I hope it has the same effect for you...  
**

_**Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.**_

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 33: The Very Thought of You**

The next several days following Ron's abrupt departure were difficult for Hermione and Harry. Neither could will themselves to say much, or talk at length about the Horcruxes. Instead, they resorted to reading or researching or just thinking over the aggravating, dark items on their own.

The silence was needed in order to accept that the third member of their circle was gone and had moved on, but it was still an exceedingly painful realization. _And all because I told him the truth_, Hermione reflected, growing teary-eyed again, something she had done repeatedly since Ron abandoned them.

Less than twenty-fours after Ron's departure, Harry suggested that they move on to another location. Hermione knew he was right. They had already stayed in this spot far too long, but she still took her time packing up their belongings, not even using her wand for most of it. Once they left, Hermione lamented, Ron would never be able to find his way back to them.

_Never..._

Harry and Hermione Disapparated to a new location, and continued to feel raw over the loss of Ron for several more days. One evening, as the sun set behind the breathtaking, pink-colored sky, Hermione settled in for more reading and more brooding over everything taking place in her life. Mostly, however, as her thoughts so often drifted these days, she thought of Severus.

Was he thinking of her? Was he missing her as much as she missed him? What was he up to? Was he all right? What was Voldemort up to, for that matter? She had wanted to ask last time she saw him and never got the chance.

Each night, Hermione anxiously awaited Severus's Patronus, but it never came. Would she have to put matters into her own hands yet again?

_Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. Merlin knows what he's going through right now. He'll send for you when he can. Hopefully, soon... Please, soon..._

Hermione sighed and settled in for another evening of keeping watch. Winter was upon them, and, with it, brought a relentless cold front that nearly knocked the wind out of them. Hermione made a larger-than-normal fire to keep her limbs relatively warm and leaned against a tree stump to support her back.

At around ten thirty, she saw the lights inside the tent go out and knew that, before long, her friend would be asleep, but not she. And it was no matter. She hardly had a restful night's sleep anymore, and knew for a fact the same was true for Severus.

Hermione sighed heavily and retreated into her book again, looking for any kind of clue the book Dumbledore had bequeathed to her might contain, when a visibly bright light illuminated the edge of her eyesight. Hermione immediately withdrew her wand, but soon realized what is was, and her heart skipped a beat.

Hermione quickly cast a muffling charm around herself. There was no telling if Harry was actually asleep inside, and she wasn't willing to take any chances.

The bright, silver doe stopped before her and asked in a disguised voice, "Are you alone?" It bounced around her and faded into the winter breeze.

Hermione cast her own Patronus excitedly. "Yes, Harry's asleep, and I'm keeping watch. I... I can't get away tonight. Ron's left us, so it's only Harry and me. I can't leave him unprotected. Might we at least talk? I miss you..."

The otter drifted away out of sight, and Hermione bundled the blanket she had more securely around herself, waiting rather anxiously. It took a few minutes, but soon the doe returned to her.

"_Weasley left?_" Hermione almost busted up laughing at Severus's foul temper echoing from the beautiful doe's mouth. "That brainless, spineless waste of space! I shouldn't be surprised, and yet, I find myself stunned. How did it happen? And are you all right? Blasted, Potter; always getting in the way of my plans. I'd like to see you..."

That last bit was what really tore at Hermione's heart. She could even feel her eyes tearing up, and quickly darted her mind to much more happy thoughts in order to summon her Patronus again. She relayed the whole incident about her confession to Ron, how she didn't love him, his emotional reaction, and then his abrupt abandoning of them.

"It's all my fault," she said with a sigh. "If only I had put it to him more gently, we wouldn't be in this situation. I know you have no confidence in him, Severus, but three heads and three wands are better than two. I'm terrified that if something happens, I won't be able to protect Harry. I - I'm only capable of so much...

"I'm doing all right; still not much headway on these Horcruxes, but I've found a symbol in this _Beedles of the Bard_ book Dumbledore left me, and it coincides with 'The Tale of the Three Brothers.' Have you read it? I'm sure you have, Mr. I-Know-Everything.

"I'm going on too long now, I'm sorry. I should probably let you say something."

When the silver doe returned several minutes later, Hermione prepped herself for more of Severus's unforgiving wrath for poor Ron. "That's no excuse, Hermione," his snarly voice affirmed, "and it's not your fault. Do you understand? I'm appalled and sickened, and you and Potter had best be, too.

"Good riddance to the ignorant arse! If he has no confidence that this war can be won, then he should just waltz on over to Malfoy Manor and request to be brought into the Dark Lord's circle, and best pray that the Dark Lord doesn't see fit to kill the sorry dunce on the spot.

"You'll be fine, Hermione, I promise you. Do not doubt your abilities. And don't gripe at me about giving you a hard time either. I'm only hardest on those I have the most faith in. You should know that by now...

"While I'm on the topic of the Dark Lord, don't say his name anymore, do you hear? He's implementing a curse that will bring anyone who utters his name into the clutches of Snatchers. Be mindful of what you say, Hermione; more to the point, tell _Potter_ to watch that unthoughtful mouth of his.

"Yes, I'm familiar with 'The Tale of the Three Brothers.' The Elder Wand represents power, the Resurrection Stone represents lost love, and the Cloak of Invisibility represents greeting death as an equal." He paused, then grumbled, "Ruddy fairytales," which sent Hermione into another fit of giggles.

"All three symbols together make the Deathly Hallows. There are many loons who believe that all three exist. As you already know, the Invisibility Cloak _does_ exist, although it's regrettably in the most incapable hands imaginable—" Hermione shook her head with a smile. "—but I don't believe the Resurrection Stone exists. The Elder Wand, however..."

"However _what?_" Hermione pressed aloud as the doe flew away, leaving her to stew and huff on the spot. "If this is another one of his charades again...

"I'll tell Harry about the curse. Thanks for the head's up. I'll just have to pray neither one of us has a slip of the tongue at some point. And after I had just gotten used to saying the bastard's name, too!

"Could you please elaborate on the Deathly Hallows just a tad? I'm not privy to that information, Mister. I know I'm brilliant, but don't assume I know _everything_, would you? And what about the Elder Wand? Could you at least complete a sentence before sending me a message, you annoying sod."

"Don't flatter yourself," and the rough chuckle that followed caused Hermione's cheeks to glow, and not on account of the cold. "The Deathly Hallows is the name for the symbol you found in your book, that's all.

"The Elder Wand is very real, and until recently belonged to Dumbledore before I..."

His voice trailed off momentarily, leaving Hermione breathless and saddened. She could picture Severus in her mind, trying to gather himself and continue without showing any emotion about the sore subject; how she wished she could wrap her arms around him in that moment. If only she could...

"The Dark Lord believes it exists, but he doesn't know it was actually in Dumbledore's possession. His wand was buried along with him, and hopefully that is where it will remain, unless the Dark Lord suddenly has enlightenment as to where he might find it."

"_Dumbledore possessed the Elder Wand?_ Merlin, you couldn't have put that more casually, could you?

"Then the Resurrection Stone must exist if the other two do, and it makes perfect sense why the Dark Lord would want it. Have you any thoughts on where it might be, even if you think it's hogwash? You must have some theories on its whereabouts, knowing you...

"You know, it's interesting," she continued reflectively, "I remember the Resurrection Stone being mentioned in that book on immortality you had me check out from the library all those months ago. Clever, Mister. _Very clever, indeed_."

"You're impressed?" he returned a few minutes later. "You should be. I could do without your sarcasm though. I think I'm rubbing off on you a little too much. You may be more of a Slytherin than I imagined..."

"That was insulting, and you know it. Would you please address my questions?"

"If I must. I only learned about the Elder Wand this past year. Like many things, it was something the old man kept from me. He liked keeping me in the dark, and did a good job of it in some respects, and not so much in others. But, yes, he possessed the Elder Wand. My hope is that no one will be tempted enough to steal it purely for historical reasons. They wouldn't know that it's the Elder Wand, of course, but the idea of it falling into the wrong hands is much too stressful for me to think on.

"I make no assumptions about where the Resurrection Stone might be located, my dear. I haven't the slightest idea. It hasn't been the most pressing thing on my mind, I'm afraid. Perhaps that brilliant mind of yours will come up with something far cleverer than me."

Hermione paused for a moment after Severus's doe hopped away, reflecting in the stillness of the night over everything that Severus had shared. Then she reissued her Patronus with a curious question, "You've known where the Elder Wand lies—you're the only one who knew Dumbledore had it—and you're not at all tempted? Harry will need it, Severus... You do realize that?"

"Of course, I'm tempted," Severus replied. "I'm no saint, Hermione, in case that notice escaped your attention before, though I don't see how. But knowing what someone like _me_ could do with a wand like that is enough to keep me away and my temptation to the minimum.

"If I had known Dumbledore possessed such a wand all those years ago, when I first came into his service, I'd have had far greater concerns than just... Well, I won't go into all that through this method of communication; perhaps next time I see you in person, which I hope will be soon. There are several matters I really need to address with you.

"As to Potter, yes, I'm aware he'll need the Elder Wand. I... I'd like to help you in that regard, Hermione, but, well... I just can't. I hope you understand why. At least, I hope you will if you don't now. I can't go into those details yet. I... I'm not ready to. I'm afraid that's something you and Potter will have to conduct on your own."

Of course, Hermione understood why, and the underlying pain that seeped through his voice when he addressed her questions made Hermione's chest ache. The poor man wouldn't want to look upon the lifeless face of the wizard he had once known, and killed. Certainly, she could understand that. It would be too much for him to bear just yet, perhaps even at all.

Hermione also sensed much of it had to do with Severus's personal reservations regarding his own restraints. If he took the wand, he probably feared himself capable of doing more harm with it than good. The young witch reflecting on him, however, felt quite differently on _that_ point.

_How wrong you are about yourself, Severus..._

"I'm proud of you," she said endearingly, smiling even though he wouldn't be able to see it, "for not giving into that temptation. It makes sense why Dumbledore wouldn't have told anyone about the Elder Wand, but I find it a bit surprising that he wouldn't have told you, especially knowing how easily you could have figured it out. Then again, the man was full of riddles. Perhaps he was already aware that you knew, Severus. I wonder how he ever came to find it; clever man.

"I understand. I know Harry and I will have to return to the school eventually. We'll just have to hope V—the Dark Lord—doesn't get wind of where the wand's located first.

"I really want to see you. Perhaps in a few days when Harry's on watch, maybe you could come here? Although, I... I really shouldn't leave him by himself, so we'd have to stick close to the tent. All right, this is just sounding awkward, so I'm sending this off."

As she suspected, Severus downplayed her compliments. "There's nothing to be proud of. If the Elder Wand was placed in_ your_ capable hands, my dear, you wouldn't hesitate to hand it over to Potter. That's where our lines are so severely divided. You're a far more decent person than I am."

_Bollocks, Severus!_ she berated internally with a sigh.

"Potter can't manage a few hours on his own?" he snarled. "Scratch that. _Of course_ he can't. He wouldn't last a day without you, so you had best keep reminding him of the fact."

"You flatter me! I think tonight I've received the nicest praises I've ever received from you. Go figure that you wouldn't say any of this to my face, you scoundrel. I might have to extract this conversation and store it away, just to remind myself that you're not a total arse."

"I pay you a series of compliments and you rebuke me? You're a real sweetheart."

"On the contrary, how about all the times you were _oh so friendly_ to me?"

"Point taken."

"Point taken?" Hermione growled at his short reply. "That's all I get? What are you up to?"

"If you _must_ know, I'm in bed with my comfortable sheets and a crackling fireplace. I'm quite relaxed and warm... Though I'd be much warmer if you were here. I could use some warming up."

Hermione's face went beet red; her grin was probably as silly as they came, too, and she was quite glad Severus couldn't see how foolish she suspected herself of looking.

"Bastard," she teased. "Don't tempt me, would you? I'm supposed to be safeguarding the Chosen One, not getting myself all hot and bothered over the Number One most wanted Death Eater in the wizarding world. You're corrupting me into neglecting my duties. You really _are_ a very naughty influence.

"And you're not in bed either, so don't give me that codswallop! You don't sleep."

"It wouldn't be such a terrible thing for you to address those 'hot and bothered' triggers, you know," he returned in that silk-like register that drove her crazy. "You shouldn't ignore or suppress your urges; it's not at all healthy for you."

Hermione felt like her face was on fire. _Merlin_, someone _really wants to play._

"And by the way," he added, "I thought you were refraining from using that colorful term on me anymore?"

"Now you're not arousing me, numbskull, you're being a nuisance. 'Not healthy for me,' you say? I guess I'll just have to find my own ways of remedying that situation."

_Merlin, if he doesn't blush at that, then he's comatose..._

"And I'm sorry; I wasn't lying to you when I said that I didn't want to call you that name anymore. You seem to bring it out of me though, oddly enough. Imagine that."

"Duly noted." He paused, and when he spoke again, it was in a much quieter voice that bordered on melancholic, "I, erm, I miss you. A lot..."

It was a bit awkward sounding, which, to Hermione, made it all the more captivating, to the point that she felt an ache in her chest. "How are you?" she returned, feeling just as sad. "What's going on?"

"Well, I told you about the name curse. I understand the Dark Lord is trying to establish further mind connection with Potter; I'd venture to guess your friend's having a rough time of it, seeing as he performed Occlumency so appallingly for me. The Dark Lord's putting something into action, too, that I need to speak to you about. _Soon_."

Hermione's entire being heightened at this bit of news. "What is it? Can't you just tell me?"

"No, I'd much rather do so in person. I'm sure you'll have a lot of questions, and this isn't the method to relay to you everything that needs to be addressed. I will try you again soon in the hopes that you're free."

"Are you all right though?" she urged, growing alarmed by how serious he sounded.

"I'm fine. Well, as well as can be expected, given the circumstances." Hermione frowned, not liking the sound of that at all. "I'm in the Dark Lord's good graces for the time being, so that is one small bout of luck I've had.

"But if I'm somehow unable to get word to you sooner, please do one thing for me, Hermione: stay away from Godric's Hollow. I know you and Potter will more than likely want to journey there to look for a possible Horcrux, but _don't_. Not under any circumstances. Do you hear?"

"Why, Severus? And do you think there really is a Horcrux there?"

"I don't know for sure, but I would venture to guess there is. It was where he was defeated the first time. It holds personal meaning for him, just as it does for Potter. And I can't elaborate why just yet, Hermione. When we meet, _I will_. But for the time being, will you please make me this one promise? _Please?_"

"Well, sure, I will, Severus," she replied skeptically, "but what if Harry requests to go? I need to have a pretty elaborate excuse for denying him the right to see his birth place. He really wants to go; he's already mentioned it to me a few times. I'm not sure how I can prevent him..."

"Grip him in a leg-lock jinx if you must, Hermione," Severus snarled, though she knew it was directed at Potter and not her, "but stay away from there at all costs, until I tell you it's safe."

"Very well. I still need a damn good excuse though. Aren't you going to help me with that?"

"No," he replied flatly. "Babysitting Potter isn't my job. I leave that gladly and wholeheartedly to you, my dear."

"Thanks a lot, you!"

"I don't aim to please, remember?"

Hermione's lips curled at receiving_ that_ short message. "Oh, yes, you do. Well, in _certain_ regards, that is..."

"You're thoroughly out to humiliate me."

"No, just to make you blush. I take it I succeeded, yes?"

"I need to go. Bugger off."

"You sent your Patronus to _me_, remember? And anyhow, I've been wanting to ask you about that... Do you have more time to spare?"

"Always questions," came his much softer reply this time. "What do you wish to know?"

"What does the doe represent?"

Hermione already had a pretty good guess, one she had constructed a long time ago, but she needed to hear it from him in order to put the matter to rest. His reply took considerably longer than before, and Hermione grew afraid that she may have somehow insulted him or hit a too-sensitive nerve that she hadn't meant to. She was just about to whisk off a follow-up reply to her question when his Patronus reappeared.

"I'm afraid you're not going to like the answer," he stated very quietly, even for him. "It coincides with another person's doe; a person who, at one time—a very long time ago, rather—was very dear to me. My Patronus took the form of a doe, I suspect, because I was irrevocably in love with her. I... I'm sure you can guess who it is, so I don't need to spell it out...

"And before you go into any measures of self-doubt, please remember what I've said to you before, won't you?"

The doe flew away, and Hermione wasn't exactly sure _what_ to feel, at least, at first. She had suspected that Severus's regard for Lily ran deeper than friendship, but she had never found the courage to ask him outright.

She casted her Patronus and gave considerable pause to her reply before sending it off. "I had an inkling it might have something to do with Lily. It - It _is_ beautiful, and I still think it is, don't get me wrong, Severus, but... I guess now knowing the meaning behind it leaves me a little confused," Hermione's pupils constricted, "and slightly jealous, too. Now won't _that_ make you smirk with glee."

"It doesn't, actually," he returned, sounding quite patient with her emotional response. "If your Patronus had anything at all to do with that blasted, redheaded imbecile, I'd be infuriated, too." He paused before adding, his voice heightening apprehensively, "It doesn't, does it?"

Hermione busted up laughing, and made a point of letting Severus hear so in her reply. "Merlin, no! His is a Jack Russell Terrier. Quite appropriate, yes?

"I'm not necessarily infuriated, just a bit smug about it is all. I'm sorry... I know you can't help it. And I'll get over it eventually, I'm sure. Can Patronuses change?"

"I've heard so, yes, but they rarely, if ever, do. I don't exactly see myself having an otter as a Patronus, but perhaps something else marine-like. Something much more fierce and powerful. A killer whale, perhaps? Or a blacktip shark, to go along with that 'walking cliche' theory of yours?"

Hermione smiled, feeling her spirits lifting for the first time in ages, though it only made the yearning in her heart more pronounced and stronger than ever. "Do I dare admit that either one of those suggestions would be very suitable for you? Although, I don't like the whole 'killer whale' connotation. Sometimes your humor is far too dark for my taste. I'd prefer to go with the blacktip shark."

"Then perhaps one of these days my Patronus will miraculously change, though it will only mean it will eat that silly otter of yours raw."

"I have no idea how I got stuck with an otter. She's cute, but I haven't figured out the significance. _It's so not me_. And it's not one of my favorite animals either, for that matter. Not even close."

"Well, there's always _some_ level of significance behind the form one's Patronus takes. But you're young; you'll figure it out soon enough."

"You are, too, you know. Thirty-seven isn't_ that_ old, for goodness' sake. You haven't quite reached your golden years yet, if that makes you feel any better."

"If you continue to flatter me like_ that_, I may have to come there, snatch you from Potter, and pay you back in full..."

"Mmm. Very enticing, Mister. Cut it out."

"Just as well, I need to go. I have an altercation to break up." She detected an aggravated sigh and suspected what might be running through his mind. "No rest for the wicked. I can only hope it isn't Longbottom again. He's really pushing my last nerve. Your friends are nuisances. I don't know how you can stand them, but that's not for me to judge."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't be too hard on him, Severus. I know you try your hardest, but I have to say it for my own peace of mind, all right? And you _aren't_ wicked, so don't say that. I'm not so dense as to take your remarks at face value.

"Come soon... Please? If you can get away for a few hours, that is. I really miss you." She halted, wondering whether or not he would appreciate another addendum, and resolved to do so anyhow. "And I love you..."

It was still taking some getting used to expressing such a sentiment out loud, but Hermione was finding it surprisingly easier each time she relayed to Severus how she felt. She rather enjoyed professing her affections for him. He needed to hear them; it was the only way, she knew, he would ever come to believe that he wasn't entirely worthless.

The silver doe returned one final time. "I'll try. Remember what I said about the curse, Hermione, and Godric's Hollow. Stay away from there until I say so." There was another short pause on his end, then a low, delicate whisper, "I love you, too... Be safe."

Hermione could hear just how much more difficult it was for him to say the words, but that didn't matter to her. Even if Severus couldn't express his sentiments out loud, she knew he meant what he said.

_Even if his Patronus_ is _Lily's. That ungrateful, coldhearted witch!_ Hermione drew her blanket more tightly around herself, watching as the elegant silver doe dematerialized before her eyes. _You don't mean that, Hermione. And you shouldn't judge too harshly. You didn't know her. Best leave it alone._

* * *

In the days that followed, things got relatively back to normal. Despite Ron now being gone, Hermione and Harry continued in their relentless research about the Horcruxes. Seeing as Ron had left his radio, Hermione told Harry about the warning regarding the curse Voldemort had put on uttering his name, and blamed it on the radio as her source of information.

Lying about her affair with Severus still wasn't easy to stomach, but Hermione was more accepting of it now than she had been back at Hogwarts. Only, she hated any time Harry brought him up as a topic of conversation, either re-relaying his ill sentiments to Hermione about how much of a "bastard" Severus was, or how he had spotted the Slytherin Headmaster in "Dumbledore's office" late at night, pacing back and forth.

Hermione could only take so much bad talk about her lover before she would snap and walk away, leaving Harry dumbfounded. Though it had only been about a week since she and Severus last spoke via their Patronuses, it felt like ages to her.

Hermione often turned to her books for comfort or, at the very least, to distract herself from thinking about him too much. When rereading the textbooks she had been carrying around for months didn't work, Hermione turned to the radio, though she didn't listen much to the wizarding channel Ron had obsessively tuned into. Too many times, Severus Snape was the point of discussion, along with the latest disappearances and deaths. It was too morbid and upsetting, so Hermione listened to music instead, allowing her mind to become momentarily distracted and swept away by various Muggle tunes.

She discovered an oldies station that quickly became her favorite. One evening, as she and Harry sat in the tent, trying to keep warm from the blizzard ensuing outside, Hermione suddenly shot up from the cot she had been laying on when she heard that familiar, lovely voice: Billie Holiday.

"Oh..." she murmured aloud, not really aware of doing so, "I love this song..."

Harry peered up from a book Hermione had leant him, curious and confused. He had never, ever heard the tune before and had no clue who the singer was, only that it sounded very old.

"This?" he asked, scrunching up his nose. "What is it?"

When Hermione looked over at him, her eyes looked heavy and sad, and he couldn't understand why. "Billie Holiday. She was a famous jazz singer at one time."

"_I'm living in a kind of daydream, I'm happy as a queen..._"

She couldn't believe Severus's song was playing. And that's exactly what it was: Severus's song. It had him written all over it, its lyrics appropriately suited to the man that she loved and missed. Hermione cast her eyes away to listen to the music, ignoring Harry entirely, and slumped over on the bed and curled up into a ball.

"_I see your face in every flower, your eyes in stars above. It's just the thought of you. The very thought of you, my love..._"

Hermione hadn't realized she was now singing along softly, her eyes brimming with tears. She didn't even know that she had memorized the lyrics, even after not hearing it for some time.

_Merlin, why must_ this _song play..._

"'Mione?" Hermione blinked and peered up to find Harry now standing by her bed, staring down at her with concern. "Are you all right? Why are you crying?"

Hermione's lips inadvertently began to tremble. She could hear Billie Holiday's voice continuing to sing, and even as she tried to focus on Harry, she couldn't quite do so.

"I - I can't tell you," she replied timidly, a single tear falling down her cheek.

Harry reached down to squeeze her shoulder, not at all convinced, and slightly alarmed. "'Mione, what is it? What's wrong?"

Hermione hastily wiped the tear away with her sleeve. "Harry, please—"

"Is it Ron?" Harry interjected with a hint of contempt.

Hermione startled, then turned away from Harry and buried her face against her pillow. "No, it's not Ron," she mumbled, trying not to grind her teeth. "Please don't press me."

Harry wanted to inquire further but, instead, heeded his friend's warning. She was obviously in no sort of mood to converse, overtly depressed over something, and Harry could only hope she wasn't lying to him about Ron. The sorry git didn't deserve her tears.

"All right," he stated very quietly. "I'll leave you alone." He paused to listen to the song Hermione loved for a moment before adding, "You know, this song isn't bad, even if it's a little too old-fashioned for my taste."

Hermione stifled a laugh and turned her head around to face him. Her face was flushed and her eyes were still damp, but she shot him an honest smile.

"Thanks, Harry," she whispered before turning away from him again.

Harry had no idea what to think, but he resolved to shrug it off and let her be. If she had something she wanted to share, Harry knew he could always count on Hermione to speak her mind when it suited her.

* * *

Severus held the Sword of Godric Gryffindor in hand, his long fingers grazing carefully up and down the blade as his dark eyes scanned it with secret admiration. It may have come from the founding father of Gryffindor House, but that didn't mean a Slytherin still couldn't appreciate it for what it was.

Dumbledore's portrait, however, disrupted Severus's train of thought. "You know what you must do, Severus."

"Yes, Albus. We've been over this already. I know where they are, and I'll get it to them."

"Don't be too hasty, Severus."

"Hasty?" Severus scrutinized Dumbledore cautiously. "What are you up to now?" he growled, annoyed.

"Nothing, Severus." Albus placed his hands together in his lap. "The opportune moment, remember?"

"Oh, good grief!" Severus snarled his frustration louder than his usual register. "Enough, Albus. I know what I'm doing."

"I hope so..."

The skepticism laced in Albus's reply was unusual. Severus arched an eyebrow, continuing to hold the sword.

"She deserves to know, Albus. I won't put this off any longer."

"But she may not be able to come, Severus."

"Then I shall go to her!"

"But if you tell her, then she certainly won't go willingly—"

"Of course she won't, you old bag! And that's the point!"

"Severus..." Phineas Black's portrait spoke up, causing the current Headmaster to whip his head around. "Albus has a point. This needs to play out as the Dark Lord is predicting. Otherwise, your life could very well be compromised..."

"I've outwitted the Dark Lord many times, Phineas," Severus tried to state calmly, but with difficulty, "and even if I don't this time, and he seeks to blame me for not taking Hermione, then it's well worth the risk."

"But what about Harry?" Albus urged, now sitting on the edge of his chair.

Severus turned back to the former Headmaster with squinted eyes. "What about him?"

"You haven't told him yet. You simply can't risk getting yourself caught or in trouble before the boy knows everything—"

"You needn't worry about precious Potter." Severus's sarcasm was sharp, and made many of the Headmasters' and Headmistresses' portraits rear back. "He will know everything. Very soon. I will see to it that he does."

Severus placed the sword on his desk, his fingers lingering over the silver markings of Godric Gryffindor cast into the blade, when Dumbledore spoke again very quietly, "Severus?" Severus gazed up at him again, and was surprised to find the despair that stared back at him. "What about the school? Your students? _Hermione_, for that matter?"

Severus stared unreservedly for a long moment, and then put his hands behind his back, his demeanor resolute. "If it means she will be safe and unharmed, then it's worth it to me, Albus, but that's not something I expect you to understand. I love her, and I won't put her through this."

"But at the expense of your _life?_" Dumbledore tried again most urgently. "The Order needs someone working on the inside. You're the only one who can."

"The Order is disbanded now, Albus."

"But you'll compromise your position if you do this!"

"So be it."

The Headmaster's office fell silent; all the portraits stared down at Severus with various emotional reactions. Severus, however, kept his focus on Dumbledore, whose blue eyes grew even sadder behind the half-moon spectacles.

"Severus, please... This wasn't the plan, and it's too great a risk—"

"My mind's made up, Albus," the professor stated decidedly and without emotion. "And to hell with the plan."

With that, Severus turned away to admire the sword again one last time before levitating it back to the concealed hole in the wall behind Dumbledore's portrait. He sat down at his desk and resumed several school matters without addressing any of the former Headmasters or Headmistresses again.

* * *

**A/N #2: PiccolaScintilla and Opera777 have made two really beautiful pieces of artwork involving Severus's and Hermione's Patronuses from Chapter 31, though I think they could very well go along with this chapter, too; probably even more so! _Many thanks, ladies!_ These are fantastic, and I'm honored to have them! :) (Links are also available on my Profile). **

_**piccolascintilla deviantartcom [slash] art [slash] Expecto-Patronum-318807056**_

_**opera777 deviantartcom [slash] art [slash] Without-you-Theres-no-me-319510368**_


	34. A Not So Happy Christmas

**A/N: A long chapter to make up for some seriously slow updating. The first half is a bit of a rehash from the books, but I tried to give it its own little spin (well, kind of).  
**

_**Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.**_

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 34: A Not So Happy Christmas**

"Harry, that's dangerous! We really shouldn't!"

"Stop making excuses, 'Mione!" Harry retorted, and threw his hands up in the air. "It's the place I was born. It's where my parents died, 'Mione! And it's almost Christmas. I want to go to Godric's Hollow. I know you're just as suspicious of there being a Horcrux there as I am."

Hermione could feel her cheeks flushing in a wave of panic. Severus had told her weeks ago not to go anywhere near Godric's Hollow. So far, she had successfully persuaded Harry not to, but this morning her friend awoke with a stubborn resolution in mind, leaving Hermione trumped on how to convince him otherwise without resorting to something as low as a body bind.

"But it's exactly the sort of place he'd expect you to go! Harry, you'll be walking into a trap; we _both_ will. It's just too much of a risk. I'm sorry."

Harry's green eyes glistened with anger. "Fine! I'll go alone then!"

"What?"

"You heard me!" Harry's face softened at taking in Hermione's visibly distraught eyes. "Listen, if I get into a bind, I'll try to send word to you if I can."

"Harry, this is madness!"

"No," Harry replied, his voice steady and controlled, "I'm going home to where I was always destined to grow up, 'Mione. It's _not_ madness. I'm going, and I won't let you stop me."

Hermione bit her lower lip, watching as Harry silently cast a few select items—his wand and the Golden Snitch—into his coat pockets. He turned around and stared at her, looking suddenly like the boy from Privet's Drive all those years ago: small and lost and nearly innocent of the life he would grow up to lead.

"Harry, please," Hermione tried one last time, knowing full well that it wouldn't deter him one bit. "At least sleep on it. If - If we're going to go to Godric's Hollow—"

"You're coming?"

Hermione hesitated a moment, Severus's strong warning playing on repeat in her head, before nodding. "Yes, of course, I'm coming with you. But we really should make some Polyjuice Potion first."

"No, I'm not going to return home as someone else, 'Mione."

"Well, can we at least wait until—"

"Christmas Eve?"

That wasn't exactly what Hermione was going to suggest, but if it meant buying her several more days to come up with another excuse, then she would gladly take it. She nodded in agreement, and Harry shrugged.

"All right, sure. Christmas Eve, then. But we _are_ going."

With that, Harry stalked out of the tent to keep watch for the night, leaving Hermione to her own devices. It was a minute or two, however, before she could will herself to move. Her mind was too busy racing with any sort of stalling or delay or excuse she could come up with. And then there was Severus's adamant warning, one Hermione knew that they should listen to, if they knew what was good for them. He sounded serious and quite emphatic on that point.

_Should I send word to him?_ Hermione willed her legs to move about and proceeded to stroll around in a gradual circle. _Big mistake. Although, if I sent word right before we left... That's kind of horrible though. But then, at least, someone would know where we were, in case anything went wrong... Severus is going to be so peeved with me._

She let out an audible groan of frustration. If she were completely alone, she would have sent word now, but there was no way of doing so. Hermione stomped off to read one of the many books she brought with them, hoping that might distract her nervous apprehensions about the upcoming holiday.

* * *

Christmas Eve came faster than Hermione imagined, especially considering how slow the days normally were, with little progress being made on finding more Horcruxes. _When is Severus ever going to see fit to give Harry that blasted sword already? We need it, for crying out loud!_

For the moment, Hermione didn't mention anything about the sword to Harry. Since her friend was expected to 'find it,' there was _no use in spoiling the 'surprise.'_ Hermione couldn't help rolling her eyes.

She had been rather frantic all day long, now and again egging Harry on to change his mind, only to get a disgruntled response or have him stomp off. Finally, the evening came, and with it, the unavoidable journey.

Harry waited for Hermione outside the tent, calling to her repeatedly. "'Mione, come on! Enough stalling!"

"All right, all right, I'll be right there!"

_If you're going to send a message, Hermione, send it now before Harry comes in!_

Hermione crouched down in a corner of the tent to summon her Patronus, but then sporadically changed her mind yet again. _No, better not to worry him. Sending that at the last minute will only freak him out. Let him find out on his own, and not through me. It'll be fine, Hermione. You know what to do if something goes wrong..._

"'Mione, _come on!_"

Hermione stumbled out of the tent and hastily took Harry's hand. She felt rather nauseous, however, at the notion of going to Godric's Hollow without, at the very least, informing Severus, and a tremendous amount of guilt lodged itself in the pit of her stomach. But it was too late.

Using Side-Along Apparation, the pair emerged in the small, snow-covered English town of Godric's Hollow. Hermione quickly gathered Harry's Invisibility Cloak around them and was immediately perturbed to find the place virtually deserted; or so it appeared. The weather conditions weren't torrential enough to keep anyone from being out and about, and wasn't it Christmas Eve?

Perhaps it was just that her nerves were already heightened because of Severus's warning, or maybe it was also her intuition that told her this place wasn't just creepy because it was dark and abnormally quiet...

"This is a mistake," she whispered under her breath, but Harry still caught what she said.

"Not now, 'Mione, please."

Stepping forward, Harry motioned Hermione to wrap her free arm not holding onto to the cloak through his, and together they progressed carefully down an abandoned street. Soon, some merry banter could be heard coming from a nearby pub, but it was rather faint and the pub was obviously not filled to capacity.

Hermione made a point of keeping alert, knowing Harry was probably emotionally distracted with soaking in the place of his birth. But soon she, too, found herself distracted, though not by anything troubling or out of the ordinary.

_Music._

Her eyes caught the sight of the top of a small church in the distance, and the sound of Christmas music infiltrated the eerily quiet atmosphere, bringing Hermione an immediate sense of comfort. She instantly gravitated towards the hymn, whatever it was, and allowed her sharp ears to listen intently.

"Listen," she murmured, and Harry, too, gravitated towards the echo of carols. "Christmas music... Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes, it is," he replied, though his voice sounded unusually hushed, almost strained.

Hermione guided them towards the church. All the while, her heart grew increasingly warmed and soothed by the music she detected. She used to always be so excited about this time of year. How times had changed. Just last year...

_Last year_, her mind reflected, and she nearly teared up on the spot. A lump formed in her chest as images flooded her mind from the last Christmas she had had.

It was hard to imagine that a year ago she attended Christmas mass with Severus Snape. Had time really gone _that_ quickly? She could remember it so vividly...

Severus casually singing along to her favorite hymns, his rich baritone filling her ears with a magic all its own, surprisingly beautiful and intimate. How he had agreed to teach her to fly and encouraged her to confront her fears. That night—or Christmas morning, rather—they finally held hands for the first time...

"Silent Night." Her favorite hymn. Something about it tore at her heart, but not in a forlorn way. It was moving and personal and poignant to her, and now for all the more reason: because she had heard Severus sing it once.

Hermione realized her eyes were now wetting, and she quickly wiped her tears away before Harry could notice. "What are we doing?" he stressed as they progressed closer and closer to the church.

"Don't you want to go inside?"

"Erm, well, yeah, but..."

Hermione spun around, curious as to what had suddenly distracted Harry's attention and caused his thoughts to drift. Harry had ceased walking just outside the entrance to the church, and was staring off at something she hadn't noticed: a cemetery.

Hermione's heart collapsed into her stomach, knowing before Harry proposed the question where they might find Lily. _Lily..._

Hermione was still very much conflicted about how to feel about her, particularly in the presence of her best friend. She reluctantly followed Harry's lead as he removed the Invisibility Cloak, something she begged him not to do, and strolled into the cemetery, listening to the Christmas music all the while as it continued to penetrate through the stone walls. She preferred to focus on the holiday and how light the music made her feel, but it all seemed far too silly—selfish, even—given the current state of things in their world.

Hermione searched the various grave markings as Harry reared off in the opposite direction. Stumbling across the Deathly Hallows symbol etched on one of the gravestones, Hermione's curiosity immediately heightened. But then she realized it had grown far too quiet, despite the music. _Much too quiet_.

When Hermione peered up, she found Harry several feet away, standing at what undoubtedly had to be the gravestone of his parents. The sight made her heart sink. She knew she had to go to him, offer whatever solace she could, but a deeply troubled part of Hermione didn't want to chance moving from this spot.

Little did Harry know, Lily was such an enormously big part of Severus's past—more than Hermione herself knew—and she wasn't quite sure if she was ready yet to face the final resting place of _her_ wizard's best friend, the friend who ultimately turned her back on him, leaving him more scarred than anyone could possibly imagine. For some reason, just thinking on the redheaded twisted Hermione's stomach.

Was it jealousy? Or was it something else? Something much deeper and less superficial?

Hermione took a deep breath and walked over to join Harry, pained to find his eyes drenched with tears. She had hardly ever seen him cry, despite everything he had been through. Hermione willed herself to look down at the grave marking that read the names of his parents, her eyes focusing in on the one name in particular: _Lily Potter_.

_Does Severus ever come here?_ she found herself wondering. _Does he visit Lily's grave?_

Then she spotted a miniature wreath full of disintegrated flowers that looked like actual lilies. The display was appropriately placed where Lily's name was carved into the cold stone. What struck Hermione almost immediately was the very small, hardly visible green ribbon that accompanied it. Hermione found her answer.

_Oh, Severus..._

The dead flowers represented him in some awfully damaged, brokenhearted way, representative of all the turmoil and suffering he had endured for so many years. _Alone_. Staring at the dead woman's name, seeing the wreath, and thinking of Severus—it all became too much for Hermione to bear.

Hermione inadvertently compressed Harry's hand as tears began to fall from her eyes. She suppressed any audible cries well enough not to alarm her friend; he was already experiencing his own emotional torment. And yet, he had no idea in that moment just how much Hermione needed his comforting touch as much as he needed hers.

Together, the two Gryffindors stood by the grave for a long while, neither one saying a word, just holding tight to the other's hand. Hermione eventually conjured another wreath on Harry's behalf and stepped back to retake possession of her friend's hand. Laying her head on his shoulder, she allowed him to cry softly for a time without interruption, and she, too, tried to bring herself out of her own melancholy; only it wasn't necessarily _her_ suffering she was experiencing, but Severus's. She could sense that exquisite agony of his in the very depths of her soul and wanted nothing more than to turn away from this godforsaken place.

"Who do you suppose left those?" Harry asked, bringing Hermione out of her reflections.

"I... I don't know."

"Strange..."

"Well, your parents were well thought of, Harry, and still are. It was probably someone from the Order."

"Yeah, maybe. They look... They look like they were lilies."

Hermione smiled sadly. "Yes, they do. I'm sure they were lovely."

Harry fell back into silence. It was another few minutes of solitude for the pair of them before Hermione spotted a dark silhouette standing next to the church, blatantly watching them, and the hairs on her neck stood on end. Severus's warning immediately rang in her ears, and she quickly grasped Harry's arm to let him know that they were no longer alone.

If Hermione was worried about things going badly, they only progressed from bad to worse. Harry decided to follow the figure in question—an old woman they gathered to be Bathilda Bagshot, whom Harry was seeking out for information—only he was far more inclined to follow the strange, mute lady wherever she led them, unlike Hermione, who was desperate to turn back.

"Harry, this isn't a smart idea!" she hissed, more than ready to heed to Severus's warning as they put the Invisibility Cloak back over themselves to follow inconspicuously.

"She knew the Dumbledores, 'Mione. C'mon..."

His voice drifted yet again when his green eyes took in an abandoned house, now in ruins, where the roof had either caved in or, from the looks of it, blown up. Hermione followed his gaze and recognized the place instantly without having ever seen it before: Harry's birthplace, the very spot where Lily Potter died...

Another wounded pang tugged at Hermione's insides as she stared at the house in ruins. Protective enchantments were all over the place, concealing it from Muggles' eyes.

_Did he ever venture here?_ she questioned quietly. _Did Severus make a point of visiting the house whenever he visited Lily's grave? How often did he come here, for that matter? How badly did he continue to torture himself in Godric's Hollow?_ Hermione had her grave suspicions but wasn't ready to confront them just yet.

"It's still here..." Harry murmured, sounding both mesmerized and downcast at the same time.

Hermione startled when Harry eventually turned away to continue following Bathilda Bagshot, who hadn't spoken a word to them yet. Her eyes were unnatural looking, almost sinister, and caused Hermione to shiver.

_Something was most definitely askew..._

"Harry, please!" she urged repeatedly, even after they had entered the woman's home, only to find it smelled of mold. The state of it was also in disarray, as if it hadn't been cleaned in an exceedingly long time. There were no candles lit either, which gave the place an unsettling, foreboding feeling.

Harry soon disappeared, leaving Hermione in the abandoned sitting room, if it could even be labeled as such. Hermione decided to look around and make her search of the place a swift one. She spotted a book about Dumbledore, which she immediately snatched up, but then her nose took in a ghastly odor, one that her eyes, too, traced to the walls and ceiling above.

_Blood. Shit. Severus was right!_

"_HARRY!_"

* * *

Lord Voldemort hissed as he glided across the floorboards, infuriated by the news Lucius Malfoy brought. Harry Potter and his Mudblood friend had escaped his clutches yet again. Lucius recoiled and hung his head, his hands trembling, waiting to receive some sort of blow from his master, though he had no idea what that might be.

Severus stood rigid in the opposite corner of the Malfoy's sitting room, his hands clasped behind his back, his mind racing without any indication as such. Having only received word an hour ago that Hermione and Potter had narrowly escaped Nagini, despite all his attempts to dissuade her from going to Godric's Hollow, Severus was rattled to the core. And infuriated. All of his efforts, all of his attempts to keep the blasted boy safe, and Hermione as well, were falling on deaf ears, and proving to be a moot effort.

_After everything I said, after all the warnings I gave you, after I practically begged you not to go to Godric's Hollow, Hermione, you _still_ defied me! Foolish, headstrong girl!_

"The Mudblood is clever," Voldemort sneered with a dangerous gleam in his red eyes. "Far too clever. The sooner we get her separated from Potter, the better chance we'll have of catching _him!_"

Voldemort abruptly stopped pacing and stared at the hunched form of Lucius, his mouth cast in a deep frown. He extended his hand out to bring it beneath Lucius's chin, forcing the man to slowly look into his face, something the wizard was more than reluctant to do, and obviously so.

There was a long, drawn out silence between master and servant before Voldemort threw his hand back and smacked Lucius across the face with such force that he actually stumbled backward into a corner table. He gaped at Voldemort, skittish as a mouse. To Severus, it was debilitating to watch, but there was nothing he could do and no help he could offer his once very good friend.

"Send for Wormtail and Bellatrix! I need them here! _Now!_" Voldemort commanded with a rumbling authority that made the once prominent wizard practically crawl out of the room on his hands and knees.

"Severus," he addressed, with a bit more calmness.

Severus stepped forward, emerging from the shadows at the beckoning of his clueless master. "Yes, my Lord?"

"It is time for us to implement our second plan. You know of what I speak."

"Certainly, my Lord."

"I expect you to take care of bringing the Mudblood to me."

"I will."

"There can be no mistakes, Severus. I will _not_ let Potter fall out of my grasp one more time! Do you hear?"

"I understand, my Lord."

"Very well," he replied with a bit more bite than Severus expected.

Severus bowed his head and, without another word, strolled out of the room and out the front door. Once outside of the gates to the estate, he Disapparated back to Hogwarts.

_Damn it, Hermione!_ He growled ferociously to himself once he landed in an abandoned corridor. _What am I to do now?_

* * *

_Once Severus finds out we were in Godric's Hollow, his wrath will be worse than anything you've ever received. Who are you kidding, Hermione? He already knows. He's probably so infuriated and disgusted with you now that he'll purposely avoid you altogether. Ugh. Well-played. Nicely done!_

Hermione sighed and leaned her head against a tree stump. It had been two days since she and Harry narrowly escaped the clutches of Voldemort's snake. Severus, as she predicted, had been right about staying away from Godric's Hollow, and for good reason. Bathilda Bagshot had turned out to be Nagini in disguise, nearly killed them both, and Harry had sustained injuries in her attempts to get them to safety. What was most unhinging, however, was that Harry's wand had been severed during their escape.

Now her best friend—the only person destined to defeat the Dark Lord—had no wand to do just that, or to merely defend himself from anyone else. Hermione felt awful and sickened, even though Harry showed no slight towards her for what happened.

It certainly wouldn't help knowing she would soon be receiving a piece of Severus's mind, too, and for once, she dreaded the possibility of her snarky wizard calling upon her. It wouldn't be a pleasant conversation, and Hermione could only hope that Severus wouldn't be so gravely offended that he stopped speaking to her altogether. Knowing of Harry's broken wand would probably stress the hell out of him, to the point that Hermione pondered whether or not to tell him at all.

_Why cause him more strain, Hermione? But then... Why lie to him either? You're no good at it anyhow, and he'd see right through your poor abilities._

Hermione bit her lower lip, and tried to focus on the lovely, quiet scenery around her. Harry and she had packed up their belongings earlier that morning and moved onto another location, Disapparating to the Forest of Dean, beautiful woodlands she had so often frequented with her parents as a child. She used to recall those memories with such fondness, but now they only brought her pain, knowing that her parents were—hopefully—alive and out there in the world, fully unaware that she even existed.

Hermione bundled her warm blanket more securely around herself and tossed the book she had taken from Bagshot's house about Dumbledore aside. How much longer was this going to carry on? When would they find another Horcrux, or even destroy the one they had, for that matter?

_When will you give Harry the ruddy sword already, Severus?_

Harry had gone to sleep hours ago, or perhaps he was just keeping to himself for the afternoon; Hermione didn't know, but his absence left her to ponder over their situation well into the evening, until Harry finally emerged from the tent and relieved her to get some rest.

Hermione laid down in bed, curling up into a ball as the winter gusts blew softly outside, rippling at the thin fabric of the tent that kept her warm. She hated not having a wand on hand at all times, but now they both only had hers.

_This is not a good situation_, she groaned. _Not at all. You really will have to tell Severus, Hermione. Maybe he can help. If he'll even want to speak to you after this mess you got yourself into, that is._

Late into the evening, Hermione was still awake, tossing and turning and relentlessly sifting through memories of the past few days when she thought she heard faint footsteps outside. Hermione quickly sat up and jumped out of bed. She ran to the opening, hoping it was just Harry stretching his legs, or, what she really wanted those footsteps to be more than anything, Severus.

Hermione peered out into the darkness, and her eyes blinked several times to adjust to the gloom. They widened once she made out the silhouette of Harry slowly walking further and further away from the tent—as if transfixed—and not just for a mere stroll. He was following something, and when Hermione made out what it was on the edge of the clearing, her heart began to pound with excitement.

_Severus._

Hermione was tempted to run after Harry, to accompany him wherever the doe—Severus—was obviously leading him away to, but, instead, was too determined to find the wizard himself, if he was even here. _He must be here. If he wasn't, his doe would certainly not be guiding Harry away from the tent._ It would have evaporated into the wind after communicating whatever message it had for her friend.

Snatching up her coat and fumbling to get her boots on tight, Hermione trekked out into the forest in search of Severus, praying she wasn't just losing her mind, and that she would find him here, or that he would find her. "Severus!" she uttered in a low, urgent whisper, her eyes scanning her bleak surroundings, hoping to spot that dark silhouette she loved. "Severus, are you here? What's going on? _Severus!_"

Hermione tried to keep an eye on Harry but soon lost sight of him between the trees. She abruptly remembered that he had her wand, leaving her vulnerable; and who knew when he would return or where he was being led?

In a panic, Hermione diverted her attention back to Harry and was making her way over to the spot where he disappeared when a pair of firm hands snatched her around the waist. Hermione let out a startled gasp. When she whipped her head around, she was relieved to find it was the very man she had been hoping to see.

"_Severus!_" she breathed excitedly. "What the... Why are you here? What's going on?"

"Must you bombard me with questions the moment you see me?" he snarled, irritated. "A simple hello would suffice."

Hermione, however, stifled a laugh and threw her arms around his neck, standing on her tip toes to reach him. "What are you doing here?" she repeated, burying her face in all his limp hair, ignoring the fact that he was probably very, very cross with her.

His warm arms wrapped themselves around her, and she squeezed even harder in response. "To make sure you and Potter were actually unharmed, for starters," he emphasized with a disapproving growl.

Hermione nuzzled her nose against his ear, then planted a vigorous kiss on his cheek, inhaling that fresh pine and herb scent she had been missing. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, sounding guilty. "I tried to persuade him not to go, Severus. I _really_ tried. He wouldn't listen to me. I wasn't going to just let him go off alone. I - I couldn't. Please try to under—"

"That's enough," he said sternly, though he continued to hold onto her, his grip never easing.

"You're angry with me..."

Her voice was so soft that it instantly dragged Severus down. He turned his head and shocked her by kissing her back, illustrating to her without words that she was forgiven.

"I'm _always_ angry with you," he issued just as quietly against her ear.

_Severus, you were supposed to reprimand her, you pathetic idiot._

Severus's thoughts were distracted when Hermione shuddered in his arms. He pulled her closer to his chest to keep her warm. He had been prepared to scold her, to come down on her for such a foolish mistake and for not heeding his warning, especially after he begged her to listen, but with the young witch now in his arms and embracing him in a manner no one else had ever done, he found himself caving, and secretly despising himself for it.

"Did you purposely send Harry away so that we could talk?" she giggled, drawing her head back to look him in the eyes.

"I wish that were the case, but no."

Hermione's eyebrows tapered. "Then you're not here just to see me?"

"Is that a trick question?"

Hermione surprised him with a hiss that matched his own and tugged on his neck. "Depends on how you answer."

Severus smirked and laced his fingers through a few of her tousled curls. "I'm giving Potter the sword. After that ridiculous stunt you two pulled, it couldn't wait any longer."

Hermione tried not to smile but found it difficult. "And where will he find it, Severus?"

There was reproach in her eyes that made his own dance provokingly. "That's none of your business. And anyway, you're not supposed to know anything about it, remember?"

"I guess not." She scrutinized him for a moment, then added, "Actually, I'm not sure I want to know. It's probably completely unnecessary, whatever way you've chosen to hide it."

At this, Severus said nothing, only stared at her unreservedly, twirling a curl or two of hers around his index finger. His face gradually grew somber, almost older, and the shift worried Hermione a bit.

"I'm relieved you're all right."

His voice was surprisingly vulnerable and caused Hermione to blink several times. He didn't have to say anything else, even if he couldn't convey his regard easily enough. It was written all over his worn face, and Hermione's stomach lurched at taking in his fatigue and anxiety, all probably because of her.

_He's been worried sick._ She stared pityingly into his eyes. _Poor, adorable man._

Hermione extended her neck to lock lips and grew excited at how he responded back, pushing back against her. Hermione felt herself being shoved against the stump of a tree. He issued a sigh of relief into her mouth, and she responded by weaving her fingers through his hair.

When he pulled back, they gave one another a long and silent stare. "I'm all right, Severus," she tried to reassure as gently as possible.

"Yes, well, don't ever do anything so reckless like that again!" His tone was acidic, but the concern was far less subtle than usual, and Hermione found it more than a little captivating. "And you should have sent your Patronus."

"I know I should have. Believe me, Severus, I _wanted_ to, but I didn't want you to worry either."

"That's a lousy excuse, Hermione," he snarled, "and you know it."

"No, it's isn't. You have enough to worry about right now—"

"That doesn't matter!"

"Yes, it does, Severus," she replied patiently. "It would have only stressed you out, and that's not something I wanted to put you through—"

"_You're important to me!_"

His outburst brought the argument to a standstill. Severus's humiliation at speaking without thinking was obvious as he quickly shied away from her. His cheeks were burning, his dark eyes avoiding hers and her gaze altogether. His hair fell forward in a miserable attempt to bury his indignity.

"Severus..."

Hermione reached her hands from around his neck and brushed the stray hairs behind his ears, grateful when he didn't recoil from her touch, but, instead, allowed her to caress his face, rubbing at his cheeks delicately with her thumbs.

"You're important to me, too. The situation was unavoidable, and there's nothing you could have done about it." She reached up and pecked his cheek; he instinctively leaned into her touch, which made her lips smile against his warm skin, even if she did feel terrible for keeping him in the dark. "I'm sorry for worrying you, love. It's all right though. _I'm all right_."

Severus brought one arm around her shoulders, the other around her waist, and pressed her against him, a quiet but intense possessiveness she enjoyed. Bringing her own arms around his back, the two embraced each other noiselessly before Severus broke the silence.

"I came to tell you something."

Hermione leaned back to examine him fully, her brow furrowed. "Oh?"

"Yes... About what I told you I wouldn't elaborate on without seeing you myself." Hermione glanced away towards the spot where Harry had disappeared, and before the words even touched her lips, Severus answered her question. "Potter will survive. He'll be a while yet."

Hermione cast him another reprimanding look that nearly broke Severus's austerity. Taking her by the hand, he led her deeper into the woods, further away from the tent. When Severus turned around again, Hermione was suddenly nervous. It wasn't like him to appear so visibly agitated. His eyes kept darting around them, as if he half expected someone to pop out of the bushes or descend from a nearby tree.

"Severus," she urged softly, drawing near, "what is it? What's wrong?"

"The Dark Lord has implemented a plan. One he's ordered _me_ to carry out, which is why I've come to warn you."

Hermione inadvertently tightened her grip on his hand. "A plan?" she repeated, aware that whatever it was, it surely must involve Harry.

"Yes... About you."

Hermione's eyes expanded. She hadn't expected that.

"_Me?_"

Severus gave a curt nod and brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the inside of her palm. Then he safeguarded it against his chest and met her frantic gaze again.

"Yes, Hermione, _you_. I didn't want to tell you before because I wanted to wait until I had formulated some sort of a plan to prevent this."

Hermione's heart started to beat faster. "What? Does he want to use me to get to Harry?"

"In a way, yes. And no..."

The raven eyes she knew so well grew darker and guilt-ridden with hardly a flicker, but she could decipher his conflicted emotions well enough in a manner that no one else could. Bringing an arm around his waist, she tugged at his back and brought her face close to his.

"Severus, what is it? Just tell me."

"I... I'm sorry for keeping this from you." His voice was thin and unnatural sounding. "I - I haven't been sure what to do, or how to avoid the situation without compromising either you or myself. But I've decided it doesn't matter. I want _you_ to be safe, and I want you to listen to me very carefully, do you understand?"

The pounding in her chest was so great she thought it might burst. She swallowed and nodded her head emphatically, keeping her eyes on his intensified stare. Her attention seemed to be the encouragement the dark wizard needed to keep talking.

"Almost three years ago, when the Dark Lord returned during the Triwizard Tournament, I was summoned immediately, and could do nothing at the time. You remember? I told you before. Dumbledore knew, of course, but I wasn't permitted to go anywhere. I knew it was partly a test on his part; a test of loyalty, even after all the time I had spent in his service. It only became clear to me then, that, even after so much time, the old man _still_ didn't trust me at all.

"I was given quite an unnecessary lecture about the information I could sniff out if I stayed on the 'right side.' It was the most excruciating two hours of my life. Once Dumbledore finally sensed that I wasn't going to abandon him and the school—that I would keep my word—I was finally permitted to go to the Dark Lord, but not with any shred of confidence or dignity intact. I was convinced that the excuse I had would not be good enough, that he would surely kill me...

"I won't go into detail about what happened once I made my appearance—it's not important—but by some small miracle, I survived and was entrusted back into the Dark Lord's circle."

Hermione gulped at that information. She wanted to know, but a deep part of her didn't for fear of knowing how bad it probably was. She allowed Severus to continue uninterrupted.

"Not long after, the Dark Lord began formulating plans that have only gone into action the past several months. One of those plans involved getting to those closest to Potter, which I'm sure you've suspected all on your own." He paused to stare deep into Hermione's eyes, the blackness depleted and almost melancholy, matching his voice as he spoke. "He's had plans for you since the beginning. Weasley is daft and easily disposable—the Dark Lord knows this—so he's hardly given him a second thought, but _you..._"

When his sentence trailed off, Hermione asked breathlessly, "Wha - What about me?"

"Well, he's fully aware of your reputation, of your capabilities. He knows, of course, that you're also closest to Potter. And he also understands that you're the brains of this outfit, and that Potter wouldn't stand a chance if... If you weren't protecting him, if you weren't in the way..."

Hermione couldn't speak. Finally, when she found her voice, she tried to protest. "But - But that's not true—"

Severus, however, cut her off. "It_ is_, Hermione; we both know it. That's why he sees you as such a threat; the individual standing in his way, dividing him from what he wants, which is why he enlisted me to... To undermine you."

Severus paused, though he hated the virtually blank stare she was giving him. "For the past several years, I... _I've_ been the one relaying information to him about you. He's rather fascinated by you, Hermione... You're Muggle-born, and the Dark Lord can't understand how someone of what he considers to be 'low stature' could possess the skills or the intelligence or the gifts that you possess. I think it greatly unhinges him as much as it also intrigues him...

"Even back before I really became acquainted with you, Hermione, I... I didn't know you like I do now, and this double-life doesn't permit me to always keep those I care about safe, nor does it prevent me from disclosing information I wish I didn't have to share..."

Hermione realized her mouth was dry and attempted to swallow. "Wha - What are his plans for me, Severus?"

There was a slight, and unnerving, hesitation before he answered. "To kidnap you, hold you as bait until Potter comes looking for you, and then..."

Hermione drew closer, hanging on every word. "_Yes?_"

Severus's cheeks reddened and his eyes turned into slits. For a split second, Hermione was genuinely afraid, until he whispered in an acidic, yet highly protective tone, "To break and torture you and all but leave you for dead..."

"What?"

"He's considering enslaving you, actually..."

"I... _What?_"

"Please don't force me to elaborate more than that, Hermione," Severus unexpectedly hissed, withdrawing from her a bit. "You have a vivid imagination. I'm sure you can piece together what the Dark Lord and any male Death Eater are capable of. Think back to that book I gave you last year on the Dark Arts, think back to the contents and the various tortures any of them might use..."

Hermione's face contorted for a moment. Then a wave of awareness, followed by trepidation, marred her brow. She stepped back from Severus but, to his relief, didn't bring her hand out of his.

"This is what all that training was about," she whispered, flabbergasted and, for the first time in a long while, unsure of the intentions of the wizard holding steadfast to her hand. "Combating lesser known Dark Arts magic, Occlumency, Legilimency... You knew about this plan, and that's why you sought to teach me to defend myself, so that I... That I might stand a chance? Was - Was that it? You've been planning to turn me over to the Dark Lord and wanted me to be prepared to put up a fight?"

Severus didn't answer, only stared at her intently and with his mouth cast into a grave scowl. Growing ever more unsure, Hermione willed herself to press him.

"Severus, have you... Have you been planning to hand me over to the Dark Lord this whole time? Was everything," Hermione choked on her words and could barely get them out. "Was everything between us a lie?"

She couldn't quite believe that to be the truth; it just didn't seem plausible, despite these new revelations. After what they had shared, after all the wonderful feelings she was experiencing, she didn't want to believe it. But her mind was whirling and conflicted and baffled and afraid.

She caught Severus's flicker of panic, followed by his abrupt step forward. He cupped the side of her face and stared at her with an emotional expression of pain that shook her to her very foundation.

"_No_, it _wasn't_ a lie, Hermione. I've been trying for over two years to subtly dissuade him, to focus his attention elsewhere, even begged Albus to put a stop to my getting to know you because it's been killing me. I couldn't—"

"_Dumbledore knew, too?_"

Hermione felt like her heart had fallen into the pit of her stomach. The Headmaster she had once so greatly revered suddenly seemed like a ghost, as if he had never been real or existed at all.

Sensing her troubling thoughts, but not wanting to delve inside her mind, Severus carefully pulled a shocked Hermione towards him and into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and could feel her entire body trembling. He instinctively wove his arms more securely around her. He had been fearing this moment for some time. He suspected that telling her would not only be a mistake, but also his own undoing. Perhaps he shouldn't have told her at all...

_Shut up, Severus. You deserve this. You should _never_ have let things advance this far to begin with. You should have pushed her away a long time ago and spared her this misery, you selfish bastard._

"Hermione," he whispered, choking back on her name. When she looked up at him, that suspicious look in her eyes he hadn't seen for well over a year made his chest ache. "I... I really _have_ been trying to help you, I swear it. And yes, in the beginning, it _was_ because of the Dark Lord's plan, but also because I... I started caring for you a lot sooner than you think I did, or even _I_ realized..."

"R - Really?"

"Yes... And I'm sorry for keeping this from you. Please try to understand, I don't want you to be afraid; I just want you to be on your guard. I have no intention of handing you over to the Dark Lord. I fought with Albus on it for years, to his bitter end. He never sided with me because he knew it would compromise my position. He just needed his spy; that was all. For the moment, I became more important than you, but only to serve a purpose. He couldn't understand, or perhaps just refused, to acknowledge that, by all accounts, you would most certainly die if you fell into the Dark Lord's hands.

"It was only to save _my_ skin that Albus encouraged me to go through with the plan; he couldn't lose his one asset to getting inside the Dark Lord's mind. I think, deep down, he _did_ care about you, Hermione, in his own way, but make no mistake: Albus Dumbledore was always focused on the greater picture and not so much you or I or even Potter. If it meant the end of this war, and with the Dark Lord destroyed, whoever stood in the way was of little concern to him.

"I _never_ agreed with him on it, and we had countless rows over it—about how much Potter should have known, about where I could step in and where I wasn't allowed—but in the months leading up to his death, we... We mainly discussed you.

"Please believe me, Hermione. I couldn't do it, and I came to that realization almost as soon as you started pestering me and trying to get to know me. Perhaps..." He hesitated, unsure if he should divulge too much, but then quickly decided to clear the air and give her the clarity she deserved. "Perhaps a few years ago, without knowing you the way I do now, I might have been able to stomach all of this if... If it meant gaining more compromising information about the Dark Lord, anything that could be used against him.

"I... I'm in a difficult position all the time. I have seen more tortures, more deaths, more takings of innocent lives—many of them people that I've known and couldn't save—than I ever care to admit. Two years ago, you would have been another casualty whose death I'd be forced to accept and do nothing to prevent.

"But by Dumbledore requesting that I get to know you, and with the Dark Lord making the same request, I... I never expected any of _this_ to happen. Believe me, Hermione, it sickened me every day working with you, knowing what I was being forced to do, knowing that you weren't aware of any of it. I - I've wanted to tell you, I just... I just didn't know how I could without giving myself up. And getting to know you day by day made the notion of telling you just too hard, because for a long time I was convinced that I _would_ still carry out my orders, despite all the objections I made on your behalf."

"Orders?" Hermione whispered, biting on her lower lip. "Wh - What is your part in all of this?"

Severus stiffened, his eyes hardening a bit. "To gain your trust, lure you to the Dark Lord, and, in all likelihood, torture you myself..."

Hermione could hardly breathe anymore. Her head was spinning, and seeing the torment on Severus's face was enough to make her want to crumble to the ground and never get up again. She knew, looking at him now, that he wouldn't do what was expected of him. Though she hadn't really doubted his regard for her, seeing the visible confirmation both heartened and shattered her to pieces, despite still being quite shocked.

"Th - Thank you... For telling me," she barely managed.

Peering up at him, and seeing his own torment, she wanted to cringe. _How has he managed to deal with all of this? With everything? Always forced to do what no one else could stomach. Always forced to do what's not in his nature to do, what isn't who he really is. Severus..._

"Please, Hermione," he begged, unaware of her thoughts, "I would _never_ and could _never_ hand you over to the Dark Lord. _Never_. You're the only person I've got, and I..." His voice lowered until it was barely above a whisper, his hair falling forward again in an attempt to mask his shame, "I care about you far too much."

There was a short pause in which the two simply stared at one another, although Severus found it quite difficult to stand his ground or keep his focus. He blinked repeatedly and constantly shifted his eyes.

Hermione understood the gravity that lay behind the words, what the tortured man _really_ wanted to say but couldn't bring himself to declare. Not just yet. She brought a hand to Severus's face and gently traced his lips before resting her hand on his cheek, waiting for his eyes to stop fluttering and focus on her. Once she had his attention, her expression softened into one of compassion, understanding, and deeply held affection.

"I believe you," she replied softly.

Without hesitating, she kissed him to let him know of her unchanged sentiments, grateful that it seemed to alleviate some of the tension lingering in the air around them. When their lips parted, she extended a smile, though it was not nearly as radiant as usual.

"Thank you for... For everything you've taught me."

"I..." Severus struggled to get his words out, a feat Hermione found debilitating to see. "I don't deserve your gratitude or your kindness. I lied to you, Hermione."

"But you're telling me now. Shouldn't that count for something?"

"_No_," he grumbled. "It's no excuse."

"You just told me that you've been wanting to tell me for some time, Severus, and that you wanted to wait until you had another plan in place." She paused, surveying him carefully. "Do you have another plan in mind?"

The way Severus was looking at her now set her on edge. "Only that you stay away from Malfoy Manor, stay out of trouble, and stay away from Snatchers; that _you stay safe_."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "But Severus... _You_ are the one who's supposed to—"

"I know."

"Well... What are you going to do? What are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know yet. He won't be pleased." Severus's obsidian orbs were now robbed of any liveliness from before. "But perhaps he'll show me mercy."

Hermione froze. The world had come to a screeching halt, and all Hermione could think about was the wrongly accused wizard in front of her, who now appeared to be on the verge of disappearing from her grasp.

"Severus," she whispered agitatedly, "what are you—"

"I simply came to warn you, Hermione. He has every intention of taking you soon."

"When?"

"That isn't important, Hermione—"

"_When?_" she demanded, taking hold of Severus's face in desperate want to be heard.

"I'm not sure I should tell you."

"_Why the hell not?_"

Severus's features became stern and harsh, reminiscent of the once unforgiving professor she had had. "Because it would be just like you to do something foolish."

Hermione all but growled in frustration. He was right, of course, which aggravated her greatly, and he certainly read her intentions all too well, but it didn't change her resolve.

"Tell me, Severus. _I mean it_."

"No. I came to warn you, that was all."

"And what?" she challenged, her voice rising in alarm. "To tell me you have no other plan in place? To tell me you haven't figured out what the hell you're going to do?"

"No..."

"_Then what?_"

Severus went silent, his face freshly dejected and hopeless. Hermione's breath stalled when his eyes came back to her after looking away for an agonizing moment, and they had never quite looked that sad.

"I came to say goodbye, Hermione..."

* * *

**A/N #2:** **Someone's in need of some serious saving...**


	35. Letting Go

**A/N: Kind of an emotional rollercoaster ride in this chapter and the next. Hope you like it.  
**

_**Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.**_

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 35: Letting Go**

"_What?_ No!" Hermione proceeded to shake her head furiously, her hands which clutched her lover's face starting to tremble. "No, you haven't! You haven't come to say goodbye! You aren't going anywhere, Severus, so stop talking nonsense!"

"Hermione—"

"NO! There _has_ to be another way! We - We just need to figure something out! How much time do we have? When is this all supposed to happen?"

"Soon."

"_How soon?_"

"Believe me, Hermione, I've thought of every possible scenario—"

"Severus," she implored, her voice now quivering and unsteady, "_please_ tell me when this is all supposed to take place!"

"No. I _won't_ have you doing something irrevocably stupid."

"Severus—"

"Would you please allow me to do this properly?"

The firmness of his tone was strange, given the circumstances, and Hermione found herself tearing up and biting on her lip to try to stop her inner emotional turmoil from surfacing. "Severus, don't," she begged, not caring how weak and pathetic she probably sounded. "Don't do this. _Please let me help?_ Let me do something!"

"There's nothing you can do."

His calmness about the situation was unnerving. Hermione threw her arms around his neck and cried into his cravat, her entire body shaking as badly as it had when she first caught sight of him nearly two months ago, when she had been so enraged and distraught that she couldn't prevent herself from breaking down. But Hermione couldn't remember feeling much worse than she did right now, on the verge of what, to her, was the equivalent of losing everything.

"It's all right," she vaguely heard him whisper into her ear. "It's all right, Hermione."

"How can you say that? _How?_"

"Because I'm at peace with it."

"_What?_"

"Hermione, I've had far longer than you to come to terms with what is the right thing to do."

"No!"

"I've done enough lying, spying, and generally horrendous things at the benefit of others. I can't do it anymore. It's too much, and I've done it for far too long.

"I'm tired of watching people die needlessly. I'm tired of extracting information in every inhumane way possible. I'm tired of serving that psychotic maniac and obeying his every whim. I'm tired of living a double life. I'm tired of not being able to live freely and make any of my own decisions. _I'm tired, Hermione._ I'm just... I'm so tired..."

Hermione stopped sniveling long enough to peer up into his face, disheartened by his confession and the confirmation that was etched into every line, every worn facet, and even in the blackness of his eyes that were drained of hope. Hermione gently brushed her hand along the side of his face.

"I know you are, love."

She paused to scrutinize him—to really look into that striking, unconventionally handsome face she loved—before planting another kiss on his lips. Tears were freely cascading down her face that she wasn't even aware of, and when their lips parted, she took firmer possession of the side of his face in her hand.

"Stay?" she encouraged in a broken whisper. "Stay with me? We can figure something out, Severus... It - It doesn't have to be this way. You can run. You can defy him and leave. _Just leave, Severus_."

"My defiance would truly mean the end of you. He will hunt you down mercilessly until he finds you, and his wrath will be so much worse than you could possibly imagine, Hermione, _because of me_. No... If I can do something right before this war is over, I will lie to him one last time, if it will buy you time and keep you safe."

"Severus, no—"

"There's one thing I need you to do for me..."

Hermione couldn't say anything anymore, now too emotionally wrought to form a coherent thought. She could only try to stifle her cries long enough to hear whatever Severus wanted to convey.

Severus pecked the top of her forehead, wrapping his arms tightly around her as she gazed up at him imploringly but to no avail. "I have something for Potter, some very important information he'll need to know. But he cannot see it until the opportune moment. Not until these Hocruxes are destroyed and the Dark Lord is weakened, do you understand?"

"S - See?" she managed, muddled.

"Yes."

Severus withdrew something from his coat pocket and held it up for Hermione to see. She knew immediately what is was: a memory, perhaps several, encased in a phial and likely extracted from Severus's own mind. Hermione stared at it, perplexed, watching the blue and white mist floating and circulating within the glass.

Her normal reaction would have been curiosity, but Hermione could hardly focus right now. _This isn't happening! Wake up, Hermione! Wake up!_

"Hermione?"

Hermione blinked several times, her caramel eyes continuing to swarm with tears. Severus's grave expression had altered into one of concern.

"Y - Yes?"

Severus spoke more gently than before, and with surprising patience, even for him. "I need you to give this to Potter. It's most important. I'm entrusting it to you, to give to him when the time is right. He'll need this, Hermione. He'll need to look at this if he wants to defeat the Dark Lord."

"Wha - What is it?"

"I'm afraid I can't disclose that. It's of a personal nature, and it's for Potter alone. Please try to understand..."

Hermione's frown deepened. "But..."

Severus removed Hermione's hand from his cheek and brought the phial into her grasp, enveloping his own hand around hers, covering it completely with his warmth. Hermione could say nothing, but stared at their hands for a moment, caught up in his soothing touch, the feel of his skin on hers.

Finally, she broke her gaze away to look at him again, her lower lip shaking, ready to buckle and give way. She could tell Severus was attempting to play the masked man once more, trying desperately to offer nothing but peace and reassurance to her, and the only thing that betrayed his front of acceptance were those penetrating eyes, if observed very closely. Instead of compliance, they spoke of sorrow, regret, even, if Hermione's interpretation was correct, fear for what was to come. But he illustrated none of those characteristics when he spoke again, this time without restraint.

"I'm most grateful to you, Hermione, I... I want you to know that. You are the only person who's ever accepted me—wholly and unconditionally—for what I am, and I know that that isn't much, nor is it at all easy. You're the only one who didn't give up on me or reject me, who saw through to who I really am and... And didn't find me a monster or entirely repulsive or beyond some level of forgiveness. You..." Severus fumbled to bring her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her palm, rubbing his cheek against her touch, as if her very skin itself contained some magically embedded comfort. "You allowed me to understand what it is to feel loved and accepted. That's something I've never truly felt before. I... I'm grateful to you, Hermione._ Exceedingly grateful_."

Hermione leaned in to gently kiss his opposite cheek, her wet tears grazing the side of his face as she continued to cry noiselessly. "You were always deserving of this, Severus," Hermione breathed intimately, her hazy eyes trying to stay focused. "That's what I've been trying to get you to understand. You were_ always_ deserving of acceptance and love; life's just been terribly cruel and unfair to you. It's left you damaged, beaten you into submission, into believing wrongfully that you've warranted rejection. _But you never have, Severus_.

"I know who you are, and you're _not_ unworthy of me or anyone else in the past who saw fit to walk away from you. You're difficult, yes, but you're also emotionally scarred—far more than most—and simply require more patience and understanding. You're hardened into thinking the poor way you've been treated all your life is justifiable, Severus, but _it's not_.

"Which is why I want you to stay. Forget about the plan. Forget about serving the Dark Lord, of serving anyone but yourself. Forget about the rest of the world and focus on us. _Stay with me, please?_ I don't want you to go. You don't _have_ to go, Severus. Don't do this. _Please_."

Hermione wasn't aware that in the process of begging him not to leave, she had fastened her hands to his buttons. Severus tried to pry her hands away, but found him locking them around her fingers instead.

"I have worked too long and too hard to ensure that Potter and you are able to do what needs to be done, Hermione. I'm not willing to sacrifice that or throw it all away, not even for us. I've seen and done too much; _I know too much_. I can't do it, Hermione. I just can't."

The internal conflict wracking him on the inside was obvious, and Hermione found her shoulders caving and her cries worsening. "I don't understand," she half pleaded, half sobbed. "Why would you leave me? Why are you doing this? Why can't you stay with me?"

Severus gathered her securely into his arms again and placed a firm kiss on her brow. "In time, you will understand, my love," he whispered, so low she almost missed it amidst her own cries of distress. "If it's not clear to you now, it will be eventually."

"No!" she whimpered, her fingers clawing at his buttons, desperate for something of his to hold on to. "No! I don't want to understand. I want you to stay. I love you! Isn't that enough? _Please!_"

Severus buried himself in her wild curls. Her pleading and sobbing were becoming unbearable to hear, but he selfishly couldn't will himself to let her go.

"Thank you," he issued, struggling with words that, to anyone else, were quite simple to express but, for him, were of a much more agonizing nature. "Thank you for loving me..."

Hermione lost what little composure she had left and dug her fingers into his coat, practically ripping at the fabric as she sobbed uncontrollably. "Don't," she mumbled into his neck. "You don't_ need_ to - to thank me for - for loving you, S - Severus. You just n - need to accept it. _Stay_. Don't. Go. Pl - Please?"

Severus gathered a clump full of her hair in his hand, trying to memorize the soft texture in his mind. "If I stay, we both die," he repeated miserably. "If I go, you at least have a chance."

"_How?_ That makes no sense, Severus!"

"Because I can divert him."

"Severus, _please_, I'm begging you!"

"Will you promise to give Harry the phial? _Promise me?_"

Hermione fell silent, her face moistened and red. She brought her face around to look straight into his eyes with her nose touching his, their lips inches apart.

"Y - Yes," she stuttered, shaking all the while. "I - I promise. But—"

Before she could plead her case again, Severus leaned in to kiss her again, and was met with Hermione's arms rung around his neck, pressing his mouth into hers with earnestness. Time elapsed into nothingness. All Hermione could feel was the warmth and wetness of Severus's mouth, that distinctive taste that was him and the only thing tangible and worth having.

In turn, all Severus wanted was to remember this, to remember how it felt to be consumed by someone else, to understand what it really meant to have returned affections, to know the true meaning of love and being loved back...

After an agonizing moment, Severus reluctantly drew back, his face no longer a mask of acceptance but a contortion of pain. "I have to go..." Though barely able to speak anymore, he stepped away from her, and gathered her hands, which had latched themselves onto his arms.

"No..." she protested, trying one last time to convince him to stay, knowing the effort was futile. "_Please..._ Don't..."

It took all the courage Severus had to turn away from her; the last image of her crying and wounded, and all because of him, was sketched unforgivably in his mind. Forcing his legs to move, his conscience and heart fighting him with every step, he weaseled his arms free of her grasp at last.

There were several hitched, sharp breaths, the sound of a body collapsing to the ground, and soft, gut-wrenching pleas that barely reached Severus's ears.

A crackle and pop echoed through the stillness of the forest, and Severus was gone, leaving Hermione winded and alone. She tore at her hair and breathed heavily as the isolation of the forest threatened to submerge her.

_He was gone. And he wasn't coming back._

Unable to think or cope, Hermione simply allowed herself to feel and cry during what was most certainly the worst, most intense suffering she had ever experienced in her life.

* * *

Somehow, by some small miracle, Hermione fell asleep in the coldness of her bed. She wasn't even sure how she managed to get back to the tent; or where Harry was, for that matter.

Emotionally spent, Hermione awoke at dawn and stared directly in front of her for well over an hour, hardly blinking or stirring. She felt raw, indisposed, and incapable of doing a bloody thing.

The phial from Severus—his last request—was clenched in her hand beneath the covers. Her fingers had gone numb long ago from holding it so tightly, but she didn't seem to notice. Despite her weariness, she still sniveled and cried, burying her wet face against her pillow.

So _this_ was what rock bottom felt like. On the one hand, she had been emotionally stripped bare, and yet, she had never physically ached more than she did now.

She didn't even hear Harry return to the tent, or noticed that she didn't have any wand to protect her had it been someone else, for that matter. She wasn't aware of him shouting her name several times to get her to come out. She vaguely heard someone calling to her, but that must have been inside her head, because it didn't sound like that deep, wonderful purr that was Severus's, and his voice was the only one ringing in her ears, or that she would answer to now...

"'Mione! Hey!" Harry came charging into the tent, his face flushed and excited. He stumbled to her bed and peered down at her. "'Mione, guess who's back? You're never going to believe it— 'Mione?"

Hermione said nothing and didn't even meet his gaze. Instead, she turned over so that she faced the opposite direction, and buried herself beneath the covers without a word.

"'Mione?" Harry repeated, this time quieter and more timidly. "'Mione, what's wrong? Are you all right?"

"Go away..."

"'Mione—"

"I want to be alone..."

"But, 'Mione, Ron's back! I found the Sword of Gryffindor! Ron destroyed the locket!"

"I don't care..."

"What?"

Harry's mouth fell open. She didn't sound much at all like the friend he knew. Something was terribly wrong.

"Leave me alone..."

"But... 'Mione, did you hear what I said? We have the sword! We can destroy the Horcruxes now!"

"Harry..."

"Ron's here. He's waiting to talk to you. He came back, 'Mione. He found his way back to us."

"So?"

Harry was stumped, not to mention utterly bewildered. He leaned over his friend to try to look at her, but her face was hidden from view. He prodded her shoulder gently, not sure what else to do.

"'Mione... You're kind of frightening me. What's the matter? Why are you acting like this?"

"What part of 'leave me alone' don't you understand?" she snarled with a sour bite he had never heard before. It actually caused him to rear back. "_I said go away!_"

"Um, all right..." He started to turn away, but then hesitantly asked, "What about Ron?"

"I don't care! Doesn't he get that already? _I DON'T WANT HIM! I DON'T CARE!_"

"Blimey, what's wrong with her?" she suddenly heard somewhere at the edge of the tent. Her cheeks burned beneath the covers, and she threw a hand over her exposed ear to prevent hearing the sound of his irritating voice. "What's all the shouting for?"

"I... I don't know..." Harry lowered his voice, thinking Hermione wouldn't hear. "I don't think she's entirely herself right now. Best to leave her alone, Ron."

"But we need to talk. I - I really need to talk to her."

"I can still hear you both! I'm not deaf! _Please go away!_"

There was some shuffling of feet and a few more audible complaints from Ron before the atmosphere around her quieted. She let out the stifled breath she had been holding in and proceeded to cry again, not really even aware of doing so. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out Severus's awful goodbye in her mind, and eventually drifted off to sleep again.

* * *

"Why did you do that, Severus? _Why?_"

Severus growled abrasively and brought his head into his hands, hunching over his desk, exhausted. "For Merlin's sake, let me be!"

"I can't, Severus. You weren't supposed to tell her," the portrait of Dumbledore scolded him with a stern frown from his perch above. "She wasn't supposed to know of the plan!"

"May I remind you that you're dead and gone, old man!" Severus spat, his clenched teeth visible between his hands. "You don't call the shots anymore! Do you understand that? You hold no power or sway over me anymore!"

"Severus—"

"She deserved to know everything a long time ago, Albus. Now she knows."

"And what are you going to do?"

"Nothing."

"_Nothing?_"

"There's nothing except to dissuade the Dark Lord from going after Hermione by offering up some sort of lie to buy her time."

"But the Dark Lord will surely—"

"Kill me?" Severus gave a sarcastic snort. "Well done for spotting the obvious."

"But - But this isn't how this was supposed to be done!" Dumbledore's voice was more distressed than it had ever been in life, and an echo of agreement reverberated from the other portraits surrounding the current Headmaster. "You weren't supposed to compromise yourself! There's still so much _you_ need to do to help Harry, the school, the Order!"

"As I said before, Albus," Severus snarled ferociously, baiting several portraits into silence, "you hold no authority over me or my decisions anymore. You lost that privilege when you forced me to kill you, remember?"

"But..." Dumbledore's voice was quieter, even feeble. "But Harry..."

"I left everything with Hermione. She will see to it that he gets all the information he needs and at the right moment."

"I see..."

"Anything else?" he prodded with a challenging sort of hiss.

"Only that I wish you would come up with something besides handing yourself over to the Dark Lord on a silver platter, Severus..."

"If I don't hand over Hermione, the Dark Lord won't show me mercy anyhow, no matter how great of an excuse I have. You know that. It is what it is."

"I know how much she means to you but..."

Severus whipped his head around and glared up at Dumbledore with a most hostile expression. "Don't you say anything, Albus! Don't you say a bloody word! You were the one who told me to go to her in the first place! How dare you!"

"Severus, I—"

"_Be silent, you old fool!_"

Dumbledore slowly laced his hands together on top of the arms of his chair, his aged face somber and sad. "Very well..."

Severus blinked and turned away to stare out a high window at the night sky. A half-moon beckoned, its light trickling into Severus's dark office, casting a faint, bluish light into the room.

After sitting in quiet contemplation for a time, Severus heaved himself to his feet with a prolonged, weary sigh and shuffled away to his personal quarters. It was three o'clock in the morning, and Severus was supposed to be on patrol, but for once, he neglected his duties in favor of his bed, of doing one small thing for himself. It was only a matter of days before he would be summoned to Malfoy Manor, expected to have Hermione in tow with him, but that wasn't to be. So why continue to put up a front or do what was expected of him if he only had a few short days left?

Severus collapsed onto his bed and didn't make any effort to undress. His bed chambers were quite frigid, but he didn't bother to get the fire going or crawl underneath the sheets for warmth. Laying his head against his pillow, his acute senses swore they could detect Hermione's scent embedded in the sheets, in that particular spot where he lay, in this very room where _she_ seemed to surround him with consolation.

Severus inadvertently clutched a handful of the sheets and rubbed his cheek against his pillow, his eyelids fluttering, fighting to stay awake. "Hermione..." he murmured into the desolate darkness, his voice filled with a tender ache no one would suspect him of possessing. "My Hermione..."

Severus eventually closed his eyes and felt his entire body drifting, though he knew not where to. He thought he could smell her scent even more clearly than before, as if she were right beside him. Was he dreaming? Or was this real?

_"Severus, open your eyes, would you?"_

_He heard traces of a young lady's vivacious laughter that filled the atmosphere with music and an inner tranquility he couldn't explain. It had been such a long time since he felt so lighthearted, so at peace with the world, carefree and in charge of his own destiny._

_"Severus? Are you asleep?"_

_"With you talking?" he answered with a half-cocked smile. "No, of course not."_

_More gay laughter and the gentle feeling of dainty fingers weaving through his hair, brushing strands away from his closed eyes and nose, and Severus nearly shuddered in contentment. He let out a soft moan and didn't move._

_"It isn't like her touch, is it? Do you remember my touch?"_

_Severus's ears suddenly perked up. "Hmm? What?"_

_She tittered and glided her hands over his back, rubbing in a circular motion that eased his stiffened muscles. "Severus, please open your eyes? I have something pressing to tell you."_

_Severus's eyelashes fluttered, opening to bright rays that slowly came into focus. Freshly cut grass. A stream echoing somewhere nearby. The comfortable shade of a large oak tree above that, for the moment, kept the sun from beating down upon him._

_"Finally," the female voice tittered, and Severus's eyes darted towards the direction of the voice, one he recognized and that made his heart beat excitedly, for he hadn't heard it in years. He had nearly forgotten how beautiful it was._

_The outline of a figure leaning over him came into view, and Severus nearly let out an audible gasp. Long, vibrant red hair. Green eyes like the grass upon which he lay. A gentle smile that shone as brightly as the sun._

_"Lily?" Severus found himself struggling just to say her name. "How... What..."_

_She smiled radiantly down at him, looking as stunning as she had as a young woman, before her life was so abruptly cut short. What was she doing here? What was this?_

_He recognized where he was, not far from Spinner's End where he and Lily grew up, at the old oak tree where they had so often played together as kids. But why was he grown? And she, too?_

_"It's good to see I have your attention," her lighthearted voice echoed all around him._

_There was no animosity, anger, or hatred from that last conversation they had shared. She seemed completely happy and comfortable in his company, and it made him eye her suspiciously._

_"What are you doing here? What's going on?"_

_"Don't you know?" she baited him gently._

_Severus's dark eyes flashed. "Am I dead?"_

_Lily gracefully shook her long, red locks. "No, of course not."_

_"Then where am I?"_

_"In your head, silly."_

_"Huh?"_

_"Even Death Eaters are capable of pleasant dreams, you know."_

_Severus let out a growl, one he had never really used on Lily, or at least always tried not to. "And?" he challenged, annoyed with his own confusion._

_"And I think you know why I'm here..."_

_He hated sounding weak and not in control, but it came out as such when he answered, "I... No..." and was unable to say anything else._

_"Severus," she whispered, bringing her hand up to cover his cheek. Severus hitched a sharp breath. He had completely forgotten what her touch felt like; it visibly shook him to receive it again. "You've done so much for me, and for Harry. Please know that I'm so grateful to you for all that you've done for my son."_

_"Oh... I..."_

_"You've looked after him. You've kept him safe. Thank you, Severus."_

_Severus managed a feeble, "You're welcome," but couldn't say much else._

_"You know," she extended her smile, "you haven't thought much of me this past year. Well, no, you _have_, but not in the manner you once did. What happened?"_

_Severus swallowed hard, unable to look away from those all-consuming green eyes. "I'm sorry," he apologized without issue, causing her to frown._

_"Why are you apologizing? I'm not complaining, Severus."_

_That crease of confusion formed between Severus's eyes. "You aren't?"_

_"No, of course not. Why would I? I'm happy for you."_

_"You... You are?" He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, though she didn't seem to understand why he was so struck down by her words._

_"Yes, why wouldn't I be? You've wasted so much time on me, Severus. So much time..." Her eyes shimmered in the sunlight, despite the shelter they had beneath the oak tree. Even so, however, her fair face grew sober, even sad. "I'm gone, Severus. I've been gone for seventeen years. When will you let me go?"_

_Severus felt as if his lungs were bereft of air. "Wha - What?"_

_Lily eyed him pityingly, something he would have normally despised, only it was _her_. And he hadn't seen that face in so long..._

_"Severus," she repeated his name more quietly, "you've allowed my death—me—to consume you. I know you've made great strides this past year, but I'm still always in the back of your mind. You talk to me as if everything you do must receive my blessing. Even now..."_

_"I... I don't understand."_

_"Even having fallen in love, you seem to think you need my permission. Why do you continue to ask for it?"_

_Severus could only stare up at her for a time before words finally came to him, and he nearly chocked as he fought to get them out. "Because it was always supposed to be you..."_

_It was a tormented statement, a shattered whisper that lingered despite the gentle breeze. His cheeks were burning, and if he had been standing, he would have surely hid his face behind his hair._

_Lily's frown deepened. "Severus... You really don't know? After all this time, even after this last year you've been with her, you still don't see? It was _never_ meant to be me."_

_Severus narrowed his eyes, the heat in his chest rising, but the anger didn't quite reach them. "What are you saying?" he challenged rather weakly._

_"Severus, we were never meant to be together. Even if I hadn't married James, and you hadn't joined Voldemort, even if we had had all the time in the world, I never could have given you the returned affection you craved. If I was still alive, things wouldn't be any different. I couldn't love you the way that you wanted. I'm sorry... But I just didn't feel that way about you. I know in the past you've thought that maybe, with more time, I could have come to regard you in such a way, but I wouldn't have, Severus. And that's the truth._

_"I know that wounds you deeply and must bring you great pain to hear, but I think it's something deep down you've always known. Yet, you won't allow your heart to fully accept it. Why? Why are you hanging on to me?"_

_Severus felt like his heart were being ripped right out of his chest. His lower lip was quivering, something he hadn't realized until he saw the look of empathy that washed over Lily's poised countenance. Her hand was stroking his cheek, but the feel was different. So very strange next to the touch he was more accustomed to; so different from another woman's touch..._

_"Severus," Lily murmured woefully, "I'm sorry. I truly am. I never meant to bring you such pain and unnecessary suffering. I know we can't always help whom we fall in love with, but I would have thought... I would have thought you'd have moved on by now. I never expected you to carry all this guilt and self-loathing around with you all these years."_

_"You..." Severus could barely speak and had to force the words out, "You never loved me? Not even a little?"_

_Lily didn't answer right away. When she finally did, her green eyes were laden with guilt and sympathy as she slowly shook her head._

_"No, Severus. I didn't love you then, and I wouldn't love you now had I lived. Not in that way."_

_Severus broke eye contact, suddenly aware that his vision was growing hazy and watery. He felt Lily grab hold of the side of his face in earnest, but couldn't bring himself to look upon that face he had once so revered._

_"Severus, listen to me. Why have you been holding on to me? I'm grateful for all you've done for Harry—I'm indebted to you for it—but what of your heart? It no longer belongs to me, so why can't you let me go?"_

_"It - It _is_ yours. It's always been yours..."_

_"For a long time, it _was_ mine, but now it no longer belongs to me. It hasn't been mine for a while. It belongs to another."_

_She paused, watching a single tear finally escape Severus's dark eyes and trail down his cheek. He instantly shut his eyes, against her and against the world, but Lily pressed on, continuing to stroke his cheek as she spoke softly, delicately._

_"It's all right, Severus. It's more than all right. You're allowed to move on. You're _supposed_ to move on."_

_"But..."_

_"You're ready to let me go, Severus. You're just afraid. What are you afraid of?"_

_Severus kept his eyes closed for a while, trying to muster some composure but failing miserably. He gave up, opened his tearful eyes, and let himself gaze at the redhead he had been besotted with nearly all his life._

_"Love," he uttered, so quietly that he almost sounded like a humiliated child._

_Lily gave him a faint smile and nodded understandingly. "Yes, that's right. Love. And that's the beautiful irony about you, Severus. You love so deeply, but when it comes to love itself, you're so terribly fearful of getting hurt, of expressing your regard, of allowing someone to love you back because you think yourself so unworthy of it. But like everyone else who is genuinely good and decent, you crave it. You long to be loved, to be touched, to be accepted, but you think loving from afar—and with a guarded heart—is enough, and that that is all you deserve. Well, it isn't enough, Severus. That's no way to live, and you deserve more than that."_

_"What does it matter?" he sputtered, his normally tough voice cracking, only this time he allowed it of himself. "I won't be alive much longer. And I only cause pain to the people I've cared about. My warped display of affection is tainted and damaged. What good is that to anyone?"_

_Lily angled her head and sighed her disappointment. "You really understand so little about yourself, Severus. I daresay she knows you far better than you may ever come to know yourself."_

_Severus looked away, the wetness in his eyes worsening despite wanting to conceal his suppressed sorrow and despair that had been locked away for so many years. He squeezed his eyes shut, but his lower lip buckled when he felt a pair of lips softly press themselves to his dampened cheek; lips he remembered well, only they had never responded to him in the manner that he had hoped._

_"You _are_ loved, Severus, and she doesn't care. She doesn't think your affection's tainted or damaged or that you're at all unworthy of her. She loves you back. And that's the real meaning of love: equal affection, caring for someone despite their faults, even when they can't see the good in themselves._

_"She accepts you far more than I ever could, Severus. You and I didn't have an understanding. We were friends, yes, but sometimes friends grow apart. They turn into different people and can no longer relate to each other the way they once did. It happens..._

_"She's shown you what it means to be wholly loved and accepted, flaws and all. She's helped you to understand the true meaning of what that means. What you've felt for me... Yes, it was love, but that's not _true love_, Severus. It wasn't returned. That was something you never understood until her._

_"You shouldn't continue to hold onto me when you finally have what you should have had a long time ago. Don't hold back or be afraid anymore. There's no need." She paused, wiping away a few of the dark wizard's tears. "It's all right to move on, Severus. If it's my permission you seek, then you have my blessing to let me go..."_

_Severus's voice was unsteady as he attempted to form a reply. "But... But I... You..."_

_"I'm gone, Severus. I'm a shadow, a thought, a reflection of your past. And I'll always be there, Severus. I know I'm in your heart, and so do you. Let that be enough. It's time for you to move on, and you should feel no guilt or shame in that."_

_"I..." he cried softly, his face contorted in agony. "I - I can't... I'm not ready..."_

_"Yes, you are, Severus," she offered soothingly, bending down to kiss his cheek again. "You've been ready for a long time. You've just been hesitating, and unnecessarily. Just because you're moving forward with your life doesn't mean I'll be forgotten, or that you're somehow betraying me by doing so. It's something everyone must do. Life goes on."_

_"Lily..."_

_"Let me go, Severus. I'm asking you to. It's all right. Just let me go. Let me be..."_

_Suddenly, Severus's cheek went cold. His eyes shot open in a wave of panic, and he found the radiant silhouette of Lily towering over him, her beautiful face serene as her eyes bore into his. She was almost floating, as if the flesh he had just felt wasn't real._

_"Thank you," she whispered, smiling warmly at him._

_Severus wanted to move but found himself completely paralyzed. "For - For what?" he stammered._

_Lily angled her head again, continuing to give him an all-knowing smile that made his breath give way. "For giving yourself another chance. You have a long way to go, but this is a pivotal first step in the right direction. And she'll be patient. She understands, Severus. She'll wait as long as it takes, because she loves you."_

_"But... But I won't be around—"_

_"You don't know that for sure, Severus. There's no certainty."_

_"Why now, Lily?" Severus found himself pressing. "Why now, after all these years?"_

_Lily surveyed him thoughtfully before answering, "Because you're finally ready, Severus. You're right on the ledge, but you've been holding back. Sometimes we need an extra little push, some small reassurance in order to take that giant leap forward out of the past."_

_"But... But you—"_

_"Am where you can always find me," she stated quietly. "But you don't need me anymore, Severus. In time, you will come to need me less and less. That's all right, too. You aren't alone anymore, Severus. You have what you need now."_

_Severus reached out to touch her but was left frozen by a flesh he could no longer feel. He had tried to touch her hand and felt nothing. She wasn't translucent, but she wasn't of this world either._

_"I..." he stuttered, unable to respond._

_Lily gave him one last kindhearted look before she started to drift away out of focus. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Severus," she called to him as her voice began to fade, causing Severus's heart to be beat faster, knowing she would soon be gone forever._

_"Lily!" he exclaimed, sitting up and extending his arm out to her as she drew further and further away._

_"There's nothing to be afraid of anymore, Severus."_

_"But..."_

_"You're letting me go. You're free, and so am I. Thank you, Severus. Thank you for letting me go..."_

_"Wait! Please!" he begged, though she just kept moving further and further away. "Don't go! Please, Lily! I - I can't!"_

_"Yes, you can. You already have, you just don't know it. It will be all right, Severus, you'll see. You're going to be fine..."_

"NO!" Severus shot up in bed, breathing fast and hard.

He quickly wiped at his eyes, startled to find them damp, with real tears cascading down his face. Even his pillow was soaked.

Still dressed but now also freshly perspiring, Severus stared into the isolating darkness for a long time, unable to move. Despite how emotionally raw he felt, an unmistakable, invisible burden had lifted somewhere, either in the room or in the center of his chest, he wasn't sure yet. But he held onto that strange, euphoric feeling, letting it fill him up as he sat slumped in the quiet solitude of his bed champers.

His mind reiterated those precious words Lily had so emphatically whispered to him moments ago, but his heart had shifted to a different place. It gravitated towards someone else, a young woman who was feeling just as mournful and wounded and lonely as he.

_Hermione..._

* * *

**A/N #2: The conversation with Lily sort of crept up on me, but it was a scene I'd been intending to write, it was just a question of when. For those who may be curious, both Lily and Severus's Patronus will further come into play later on in the story. _  
_**

**On another but equally important note, Opera777 has made another fantastic Patronus-related photo manip that is linked on my Profile. Many thanks to her for such a gorgeous image! Check it out: _opera777 deviantartcom [slash] art [slash] Incoming-and-Outgoing-322065350_  
**


	36. A Few More Hours

**A/N: Part II of that emotional roller coaster ride I mentioned in the last chapter. This was beta ready and then I had to go and change everything, so there might be a few errors. Thank you, as always, for your feedback! Your responses have been overwhelming.  
**

_**Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.**_

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 36: A Few More Hours**

"It doesn't make _any_ difference?"

"No, Ron, it doesn't! You abandoned us! We asked you stay—begged you, actually—and you stormed off! We needed you here, and you just up and left us without so much as a goodbye. Who does that to their best friends? _Who?_"

"I..."

"This doesn't change a thing, Ronald Weasley! How nice of you to show up again! But it doesn't excuse what you did! Not by a long shot!"

"I just destroyed a bloody Horcrux," he snarled, exasperated, as they had been fighting nonstop, "and that makes_ no_ shred of difference in your eyes whatsoever?"

Hermione crossed her arms and stared him down heatedly. "No, it doesn't," she replied through gritted teeth. "Perhaps next time you decide to do something heroic for our benefit, you won't expect a shower of praise for it. You'll do it because that's what friends are _supposed_ to do."

"But... 'Mione..."

"_Don't_."

Ron turned away, his face going bright red. "I thought... Maybe..."

Hermione knew where his thoughts had drifted and shook her head decidedly. "Well, you thought wrong." Ron opened his mouth to say something, but she quickly shot him down. "And I _won't_ apologize for not feeling the way _you_ want me to feel."

Harry suddenly emerged from outside the tent, his eyes darting from one person to the other with trepidation. Ron, however, ignored him and continued trying to reach out to Hermione.

"'Mione, I... I don't want to force you into anything."

"Really? Well, you have a horrid way of guilt-tripping people into getting what you want!"

"Why are you so angry? Is it because I came back? You've been like this ever since I got here. I..." He cast his eyes to the floor, glowering. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

"I would be if you weren't such an arse, Ron!" Hermione huffed with narrowed eyebrows. "You belittled me, you insulted Harry, and after already informing you once before that we didn't have a romantic attachment, you insinuated it a second time, then stomped off like a toddler! It's like you don't know us at all, Ron."

"I..."

"_Yes?_"

"So your feelings, they're... They're unchanged?"

Hermione shuffled her feet but kept her expression firm. "_Yes_, they're unchanged. I love you like a brother, Ron, but that's all, though I'm starting question whether I can even love you like that anymore..."

A flash of hurt washed over Ron's face, and, at that moment, Harry stepped in to alleviate some of the tension. "Listen, we said some things I think we all regret. I agree with 'Mione, Ron, that what you did to us is still a little sore for us both. I know you're trying to make amends, but that may just take longer than you want. _A lot_ has gone down since you were away, but, at the very least, we all need to keep going, all right?"

"That's fine," Hermione spoke first, her eyes focusing in on the ginger a few feet away from her, "just don't expect my sentiments to change. You have no right."

"Fair enough," Ron grumbled, his face still downcast. As Hermione started to walk away, however, she paused in her tracks when he blurted out, "But I won't give up on you. I... I can't."

Hermione eyed him apprehensively, their silent exchange awkward and strained. She stepped away out of sight, taking the beaten up radio Ron had left with her to a nearby table. Turning the knob to the same oldies station she had discovered months before, Hermione sat with her head in her hand, staring off into space without giving Ron a second thought.

Eventually, Hermione lost track of time and found herself alone in the tent. It had been three days since Severus had left. Or was it four? She couldn't recall. Her head had sunk to the table, her eyes glazed over in silent reflection. Then she heard it, and her heart practically catapulted out of her chest.

That song. _His _song.

"_The very thought of you, and I forget to do those little ordinary things that everyone knows to do... I'm living in a kind of day dream... I'm happy as a queen... And foolish, though it may seem, to me that's everything... The mere idea of you, the longing here for you... You'll never know how slow the moments go 'till I'm near to you..._"

Hermione wasn't aware that Harry had entered the tent and was looming over her, watching her sober profile as she stared at the radio, her eyes soaked and her lower lip quivering. "'Mione?" he pressed, alarmed to find her crying.

Hermione slowly blinked but didn't move. "What?" she mumbled, her voice dejected and, to Harry, very far away.

"Who are you crying over?"

His question was befuddling when it reached Hermione's ears. Her eyebrows tapered as she attempted to look up at him.

"What?"

Harry quietly took a seat beside her and surprised her by taking her hand. He had no idea how comforting such a small gesture of friendship was, but Hermione knew, and she tried to suppress her desire to cry harder.

"It's not Ron, I know that," Harry continued in a hushed voice. "There's someone else, isn't there?"

Hermione stared at him long and hard as another series of tears cascaded down her face. Billie Holiday's haunting voice continued to croon in the background, piercing the young witch's heart with her lyrics, only now they sounded sad and forsaken.

"No..." she attempted to lie but knew she probably didn't sound at all convincing.

Harry shifted his eyes, giving her a consoling look. "'Mione, it's all right. You don't have to say anything. You don't even have to tell me who he is. But don't think I can't see what you're going through." He paused to frown as well. "I miss Ginny. A lot. It's hard, but it's getting easier. I... I know how you feel."

_No, you don't_. She was somewhat affronted by that, even though she understood Harry was only trying to be sincere.

"At least Ginny's waiting for you," she blurted out, her eyes staring off somewhere over his shoulder. "I'll never see him again. He's gone..."

"What are you talking about, 'Mione? What do you mean you'll never see him again? How do you know?"

"Because he told me."

"Told you?" There was a heightened, somewhat suspicious intrigue that formed on Harry's face. "Did he write to you? Did he send you an owl telling you that?"

"No..."

"Oh." Harry's brow furrowed. "Then was it at the end of term?"

"No..."

"Then when?"

"A couple days ago," Hermione stated, unfazed, not paying any thought or regard to what she was disclosing, and without a care in the world.

"_Huh?_"

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes, trying to focus on that familiar tune she didn't think she would hear again. "I love this song..."

"'Mione," Harry called to her, sounding very concerned, "please... Tell me what's wrong? Maybe I can help?"

Hermione opened her tear-drenched eyes and attempted to focus on the kindhearted face of her best friend. "I'm sorry, Harry," she muttered mournfully, "I can't tell you. You wouldn't understand. I just can't..."

With that, she turned her head the opposite way and didn't say another word, leaving Harry to stare at the back of her head, puzzled and worried. Eventually, he got up and moseyed away, but Hermione wasn't aware that he had left the tent, and didn't move for a long time.

The music was still playing, but Billie Holiday's vocals had faded. Hermione secretly longed to hear that tune again, even if now it caused her nothing but grief. As long as she felt pain, her mind concluded, she would feel _him_, and for now, she was quite all right with emotional suffering, so long as it meant she would still feel him.

* * *

Days passed before Hermione started to act slightly more normal to the boys. She had spent days in the tent, at first just moping, sleeping, or not saying much of anything. Then she began reading again, which heartened Harry to see.

Finally, she emerged from the tent late one evening when Harry was on watch. Ron had joined him earlier, not feeling at all comfortable sharing the confinements with the young witch he still held such an unrequited affection for. Her unexpected appearance caused them both to startle where they sat.

"'Mione!" Ron exclaimed, quite elated to see her up and about.

"Hey, 'Mione," Harry additionally greeted.

Hermione gave a feeble attempt at a smile and stumbled out into the cold, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. "Shouldn't I take over the watch tonight?" she offered, as if it were no big deal.

Harry and Ron eyed each other curiously before reverting back to her. "Sure," Harry answered, before looking a tad suspicious. "But are you sure you want to? If - If you need more time..."

"I've had too much of that lately." Hermione sighed, her breath lingering in the cold, night air. "Besides, I need something to distract myself. Let me keep watch. You boys have done enough. Go get some sleep."

Hermione held out her wand to bring the matter to a close. Now that Harry had an extra wand Ron had managed to snatch off another wizard while he was away, it left none of them vulnerable to an attack anymore, which was one small positive step in their favor, at least for now.

Harry and Ron hesitated before getting to their feet. Hermione offered them both a small smile. It may have been halfhearted, but it was a far cry from the sorrowful frown she had been carrying around for days.

Harry and Ron headed inside the tent, and, before long, the torch inside was blown out. Hermione wrapped herself in several warm blankets and sat close to the fire pit the boys had made. Willing herself not to reflect, she kept her focus on the woodlands around them, listening for any abnormal sounds or signs of movement.

After a while, however, her attempts were proving futile. It wasn't much use. Her mind still found ways of reverting back to him, despite trying to focus her attention elsewhere, and by midnight, her thoughts had grown desperate.

More than once, Hermione had considered going after him. She was too indisposed when Severus Disapparated to do so, but her mind had given increasing thought to it ever since. It was so tempting an idea—to go to him, plead with him, beg him to see reason—and that strong gravitational pull towards Severus was still with her, lingering, unshakable.

_I need to see him; or, at the very least, talk to him. I have to know that he's all right..._

With the boys fast asleep, and her head racing, Hermione hastily resolved to do what she had been dying to do all along. Casting a Muffling Charm around herself, Hermione took a deep breath. It took several minutes this time to conjure her Patronus. Thinking of a happy memory proved far more difficult this time around than Hermione expected, but eventually her otter appeared, awaiting her instructions.

"Can - Can I talk to you?" she stammered, feeble and quiet. "You don't have to see me if you don't want to. I'll - I'll understand... But I'd really _like_ to see you if you'll let me. If not, then maybe we - we can just communicate this way? I really need to talk to you, Severus. Please don't ignore me..."

Hermione watched her otter fly away into the night and curled up, clutching her knees to her chest as she rocked back and forth. She hated waiting. It seemed to take forever. But soon it really _had_ gone on too long without any sort of reply to her message. Hermione kept her eyes on the edge of the forest, watching for any glimmer of Severus's silver doe.

A half hour went by without any answer from him, however. By that point, Hermione's panic mode was starting to kick in. Was Severus all right? Was he even at Hogwarts? Had he gone to Malfoy Manor already?

_Merlin, no! Not yet! No!_

Hermione conjured her Patronus a second time, though it took even longer due to her ever growing anxieties. "Severus, listen," she urged, not caring at all how frantic she probably sounded, "I just want to make sure you're all right. _Please_ answer me and let me know you're alive, and I'll... I'll leave you alone forever. You never have to hear from me again. Please just let me know you're all right. _Please?_ I - I just need to know, that's all."

Hermione waited some more, praying against hope that Severus's Patronus would come back to her with the answer she so desperately wanted. Even if it was just to tell her to 'sod off,' Hermione didn't care, so long as she received word that Severus was still alive. Her heart was beating so fast that it left her eardrums throbbing. She didn't even notice that her eyes were tearing up the more her mind started to fear the worst.

_Is he ignoring me?_ she considered dejectedly. _Wouldn't he at least let me know he's all right? Wouldn't he at least want to reassure me?_

Finally, Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She made a fleeting decision, one that she knew in the back of her mind wasn't smart—not at all—but the rational portion of her brain was much quieter than the emotionally distraught side.

_Damnant quod non intelligent_, she reflected, remembering the old password to Severus's chambers. _I hope it still works..._

Hermione threw off the pile of blankets around her and rushed several feet away from the tent. Taking a moment to conjure the most advanced protective charms she could think of on top of the ones that were already in place, Hermione glanced back at the tent, lingering for a moment, her heart laden with guilt.

_I'm sorry, guys... Forgive me... You'll have to make do without me tonight... I'll be back as soon as I can.  
_

Hermione Disapparated on the spot, praying as she did that she wouldn't be barred from Severus's private quarters. If he had changed the password, there would be no getting through, and she would be forced to look for him somewhere else, at the very place he had warned her to stay clear of...

Hermione found her feet as her eyes soaked in the warm comforts of Severus's bedroom with great relief. _It worked_. She still had access.

Her eyes quickly scanned the darkened room, squinting to make out her surroundings. _He's not here_, her mind screamed in a stifling wave of panic. _No. Shit. No, no, no!_

But when she made a complete turn, Hermione was taken aback to discover Severus where she least expected to find him: in bed. She could make out the outline of a figure beneath the heavy, emerald covers, and as her eyes adjusted, she caught sight of the back of Severus's head.

How had he not woken up when she entered? The man had the reflexes of a cat.

"Severus?" she whispered, cautious and unsure.

She tip toed to the bed, but he was turned away from her, and without any indication of knowing that she was there. He didn't move. _Sleeping?_ Hermione found herself just standing and staring, hardly able to believe her eyes. This wasn't like him. _Not at all_.

Growing worried, Hermione crawled over top of the covers to his side and leaned over him, inspecting his still form. To her surprise, she found that his eyes were, indeed, shut. His face was completely relaxed and motionless. He didn't even flinch at the small movements the bed made because of her making her way to him.

Hermione gently bent down to brush several strands of hair out of his eyes. "Severus?" she repeated close to his ear, hearing his soft snoring that she had grown accustomed to.

Then her eyes caught sight of something loosely clasped in his hand. An empty phial. Hermione carefully extracted it in the hopes that he wouldn't stir and examined the contents. Draught of the Living Dead.

_Merlin, no wonder I got no response. Oh, Severus, you aggravating arse!_

Hermione wanted to be cross but instead breathed a huge sigh of relief. She couldn't scold him properly anyhow. He was out; dead to the world. He would most certainly be indisposed for a while yet, though she wasn't sure just how long.

Most importantly, he was alive and unharmed and sleeping peacefully as if he hadn't a care in the world. It was more than Hermione could have hoped to find. He wasn't out of her grasp just yet, and there was still time, though she had no idea how long, to formulate a plan. _Something_. Anything that would prevent him from doing the unthinkable...

Hermione fumbled to remove her shoes and made herself comfortable next to him, fully clothed. She couldn't will herself to consider returning to the tent yet. Tonight was purely for selfish reasons, and she didn't bloody care. She would keep watch and wait patiently for Severus to wake, whenever that may be, in the hopes that they could somehow work this out.

_There_ has _to be a way... You should have come to him sooner, Hermione.  
_

Hermione sighed, annoyed with herself. But then, how could she? She had been so emotionally raw, it seemed pointless to stew over it now.

Hermione curled up behind him and wove her arms around his torso, situating her head cozily between his neck and shoulder. Severus didn't stir, even with her fully embracing him, and continued to sleep without interruption or awareness of the witch's presence.

"I'm here, Severus," she whispered, nuzzling his ear affectionately, knowing he couldn't hear but wishing to let him know all the same. "I'm here, and I'm not letting you go..."

About two hours later, Severus stirred unexpectedly, causing Hermione's head to shot up. She had been watching him sleep, and his body hadn't moved an inch in all that time.

After hearing some audible mumbling that informed her he was waking, she was about to address him when he seemed to suddenly become aware of her presence. His hand snatched up his wand on the nightstand so fast that, before Hermione could so much as comprehend what was happening, she was pinned to the bed with the dangerous spy towering over her, his weary eyes freshly alert with his wand pointed directly at her face.

"Severus!" she gasped, hardly able to speak, she was so stunned. His body was trembling, too, immensely startled by her intrusion. "Severus, it - it's me. It's Hermione. _It's me, Severus_."

Severus's long eyelashes fluttered several times before the realization of who he was looking at dawned on every harsh feature of his face. He breathed heavily and loosened his grip on her wrist, his other hand that held his wand collapsing like a dead weight to his side.

"What the..." He stared down at her, completely confused and disoriented. "_Hermione?_ What are you doing here?"

"I... I came to see you. I sent my Patronus and was worried when you didn't answer..."

"Your Patronus?" The crease between his eyes that she loved was severe as he tried to ease out of sleep, attempting to make sense of why she was in his bed.

"Yes. I - I wanted to make sure you were all right, that - that you hadn't gone to Malfoy Manor yet. I had to see you. I just _had_ to..."

Taking in his still delirious state, as well as how startled he evidently was, Hermione carefully eased her wrist out of his grasp—still somewhat afraid he didn't recognize her—and reached up to touch his face. It seemed to help.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you. You were fast asleep. I decided to stay in the hopes that you'd wake up and we might talk. I'm sorry for frightening you. I didn't mean to..."

Severus loomed over her another moment before gently rolling onto his back beside her, allowing Hermione to finally move freely. He closed his eyes but didn't say anything. Still a little hesitant but wanting to be near, Hermione curled up with her body pressed against his again and wrapped an arm across his chest.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, not sure of what else to say, or what he was thinking, for that matter.

When she felt his hand massaging the back of her head, she relaxed and buried her face in his chest. Despite the circumstances, she couldn't help but smile, if only a little. She had missed this, _so very much_.

"I'm sorry, too," he issued after a time. "Nature of habit. I wasn't expecting to wake up with you here, and sometimes... Sometimes it takes me a moment to realize what I'm doing and where I am."

"It's all right," she reassured him quietly. "I understand."

Severus's arm moved from her head down to her shoulders to swaddle her close, something she hadn't necessarily expected him to do but didn't oppose. She contentedly scooted as close to him as possible, and for a while, neither one of of them spoke, until Severus broke the silence with a comment.

"You came..."

Hermione brought her face to his. "Yes, I came. Thank Merlin you didn't change your password, or I'd still be fighting my way through."

"Really?" He looked surprised, though she didn't understand why. "You'd do that?"

"Of course I would. Wouldn't you?"

Severus's tired eyes turned to stare into hers. "Yes," he confessed in a soft, almost pained whisper. "Yes, I would..."

With her eyes locked on his, Hermione leaned in to tenderly cover his lips. She thought she heard a moan, either of relief or sadness; or perhaps a combination of both. She wasn't even sure whether it was him or her, but it didn't matter.

"Don't go," she pleaded once their lips parted. "I've been losing my mind, Severus. Don't hurt me like this. Please?"

Severus brushed his nose gently against hers. "What else is there to do, love?"

"I don't know," she grumbled. "Come up with a really good lie, for starters. Give him something else he's been wanting. Maybe it will prove enough of a distraction—"

"No, that won't work." The finality of his statement irked her. "Nothing dissuades the Dark Lord from what he wants. He's ruthless. You know that, Hermione."

Hermione bit her lip, not out of nerves, but with a newfound resolution. Finding her inner strength, she kissed him again, and declared, "Then I'm coming with you."

"_What?_" Severus drew back against his pillow, his fatigue still evident, with an expression of horror.

"You trained me. Don't let all of it go to waste."

Severus gaped at her quite animatedly for a moment before turning cross in a flash. "That's probably the single most stupid thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth," he growled with severe reproach.

Hermione felt slighted, and though she understood his enraged sentiments to an extent, she wasn't about to let it lessen her resolve. "Severus, if this is the only way to keep you alive, then I'll do it. I'll go of my own accord, and you won't be able to stop me."

Severus's eyes turned into slits. At such a close proximity, the anger he projected startled her enough that she reared back.

"You wouldn't dare," he hissed, his temper rising with each word. "You wouldn't dare do that to me, after everything I've done to ensure that you and Potter—"

"You shouldn't talk!" she snarled back with a displeasure that matched his own. "How dare you make such a brash decision for both of us! And how dare you decide to up and leave me without even considering what that does to _me!_"

Severus's face softened at the hurt and rejection she showed him, as well as at her wounded words. "I never meant to hurt you, Hermione. I want you to be safe, and this is the only way. I - I can imagine that this must be difficult for you to come to terms with—"

"You don't know the half of it!" she blurted out before he could finish, her chin starting to buckle. "You haven't a clue what you've put me through! What you're doing to me now!"

"Hermione, I'm sorry. _I truly am_. Would you have rather I disappeared without saying goodbye? Without, at the very least, expressing to you how I feel about you? Without telling you how much you mean to me?"

"N - No, but..."

His expression was sweet, especially for him, but it didn't stop her tears from falling. She tried to stifle and suppress her anguish, but it was of little use. Severus embraced her as tightly as possible, guilt-ridden by the confirmation of all the pain he was causing.

"I'm sorry," he apologized again without any glimmer of hesitation, kissing her forehead a few times. "I'm so sorry. Perhaps... Perhaps I shouldn't have said anything. It might have made it easier for you, not knowing—"

"NO!"

"Hermione—"

"If you go, I go, too. That's it."

"You will do no such thing, do you hear?" He held onto her so tightly that she almost couldn't breathe. "I warn you, Hermione, you do anything that reckless, and you will only doom us both. And Potter, too, for that matter. That's utterly foolish—selfish, even. _You won't do it_."

"You can't stop me—"

"What about Potter?" Severus urged, growing increasingly alarmed by her headstrong determination not to listen. "What about his fate? Don't you care? Does none of that matter to you? _He needs you, Hermione_. Don't abandon him because of me. That's a folly, and you know it is as well as I."

"How can you say that?" she stuttered, confused and hurt. "This isn't _you_ being asked to let _me_ go. What if the roles were reversed, Severus? What if it was me requesting that you let me do such a thing? What would you say to that?"

Severus didn't answer. Of course he knew what he would do. He wouldn't listen worth a damn. He would do exactly what Hermione was insisting upon, and that upsetting reality made him ill to his stomach, for he was aware how attuned she was to him now, how she already knew his answer without him saying a word.

"With you there, and with my training, it might..." Hermione swallowed. She couldn't bring herself to think on what might be done to her. "I might stand a chance, Severus. I - I'm not completely inadequate, you know."

"I never insinuated that you were," he mumbled, so quietly it almost passed her by.

"I've been in pretty dangerous scenarios before, and I'm still here."

"Don't suggest it again, Hermione. _Don't_."

"Severus..."

"For the last time, _no_."

"But—"

"_Enough!_" he declared with a force that rattled her nerves.

Severus threw back the covers and hastily unfastened himself from her, climbing out of bed naked and exposed, save for his briefs. His hair was tousled, and his face wore one of the most infuriated, frustrated expressions Hermione had ever seen. It caused her to shoot up in bed and stare at him wide-eyed.

"I want you to leave! I want you to go!"

"Wha - What?"

"Didn't you hear?" he growled, his eyes angled into slits again. "Get. Out. _Now._"

"You - You're serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he sniped.

Hermione recoiled, a small, flickering gesture that didn't escape Severus's notice. His chest heaved and his demeanor became quickly depleted. He caved his shoulders as he gazed down at the pretty, warm being in the center of his bed, her eyes forlorn and fragile, moving away from him out of a mixture of fear and rejection.

Hermione quietly began to shift backwards to move out of the covers on the opposite end, which prompted Severus to react. He didn't want her to leave. He didn't want that at all.

"No, please..."

Severus knelt onto the bed and took her face in his hands, holding her firm to the spot. At first, she wouldn't look at him, but when he didn't say anything, her eyes hesitantly met his.

"I'm sorry," he apologized yet again, sounding extremely tired and put out. "That was cruel of me to yell at you like that. I know you're just trying to help, but... You can't. I'm sorry, Hermione." He paused, shame drawing onto his blushed cheeks. "I keep taking matters from bad to worse between us. And it's just like me to do that..."

"No." Hermione sighed, her frown etching further. "We're both guilty of that..."

"Perhaps it's a sign, Hermione; a sign that you and I... We aren't meant to be together—"

"Don't say that to me!" Hermione narrowed her eyes that were now brimming with fresh tears. "That's insulting and I know you don't mean a word of it, Severus. Unless you truly want me to leave, don't say things like that. Do you want me to go? _Do you?_"

She saw his wave of panic. "No, I... I don't. Please don't go."

His fragile plea was enough to tug at Hermione's heartstrings. She drew up onto her knees to be eye level with him, staring directly into his face. It was a while before either one of them moved or spoke, but Hermione eventually drew forward to kiss him. What was meant to be a simple illustration of affection, however, quickly became much more dire. Hermione entangled her hands in Severus's already disheveled hair, feeling the warmth of his strong arms wrap themselves around her and pin her to his chest. It wasn't long before all the anger, disappointment, horrible sadness, and foreseeable circumstances fell away, though only temporarily, as the two made love in the familiar comforts of Severus's bed.

Hermione's clothes were whisked off her body, Severus positioned himself over top of her, and, soon, they were thrusting and pounding into one another with almost a violent force. It wasn't their usual lovemaking; it was overpowered by a will and determination, of a releasing of tension and built up anger mixed with anguish. Their cries were desperate, their climaxes stronger and more furious than ever before, which neither of them thought possible.

But thoughts were incoherent and nonexistent once they reached their peak. With loud, drawn out cries of one another's names, their bodies arched, and then slackened against each other, their breathing laborious from such furious passion; but their minds eventually came back to the present, leaving the atmosphere cold and dismal once more.

When Severus started to draw away, Hermione latched onto his back, forcing him to meet her eyes, still woeful, despite having him near. Severus instantly brought his lips to her face and moved them thoughtfully around her cheeks and dainty nose, kissing the suppleness of her skin with care and delicacy.

Hermione found herself shaking uncontrollably beneath him and ended up in Severus's secure embrace again. She had no idea when or how she managed to drift off to sleep in the midst of everything, but somehow she had.

Severus, on the other hand, didn't sleep any more that night. He lay fully awake at her side, taking comfort in the heat from the witch's body, of her arms hugging him back, albeit loosely, and stared up at the ceiling with several dark, brooding thoughts consuming his active mind.

It was only a matter of hours before he was expected to make an appearance at Malfoy Manor. The Dark Lord would beckon soon, and he would have no witch in his company to answer for. Hermione didn't know how close the day was, and Severus certainly wasn't about to tell her.

Severus gazed down at a peacefully-at-rest Hermione, her beautiful face relaxed and unemotional now, without tears or hint of pain. He should leave her this way. Yes, he _would_ leave her this way. He would make a point of engraving this exquisite image of her in his mind and take solace in his last hours watching her sleep, snuggled up against him, encasing him with love.

_Love_.

After a long while of staring at her unreservedly, Severus tilted his head to kiss the top of her head, inhaling her delicious scent as he reached the conclusion that had been fastened all along in his mind. "I'm so sorry, my Hermione," he murmured so quietly that no one would have heard it, not even her. "Forgive me. In time, you'll understand. It's for the best..."

* * *

Severus mechanically made the long walk towards the front gates of Malfoy Manor. Not since that night walking towards the Astronomy Tower—towards his fate, to the spot where he would be forced to kill the former Headmaster—had the wizard felt such a slow walk of doom, even if his strides were considerably fast-paced. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the winter gust hitting his exposed skin brutally and unforgivingly. It matched what, he suspected, would surely await him inside.

It had been a long time since Severus had felt truly afraid. Perhaps a year or so ago, he wouldn't have given a second thought to the worth of his own life. Dying would have been a relief, provided he didn't have to actually do it himself. _Typical coward_, he so often branded himself, a description most others would certainly agree with. But how life had changed...

How could one person—a lovely young woman who, to his way of thinking, deserved and warranted so much more than him—hold such a power and sway over him now, so much so that he was prepared to beg for his own life, if necessary? He wasn't accustomed to stooping to such a level and, for as long as he could remember, had been prepared to stare death in the face and with a smile, if it could be managed. Just to have one more hour in her presence, however, Severus would forfeit everything; just as long as he could be with her a little while longer...

A summons had come from Voldemort much earlier than anticipated; but, to Severus, it was a blessing in disguise. Hermione was still fast sleep in his bed, and he had left her without waking her to say goodbye. He wanted to, of course—desperately—but why make her feel any worse than she already felt, and on his account? He thought about leaving her something—something to remember him by—but there was no time. When the Dark Lord summoned, one scurried to him like an obedient dog and Severus was no different, no matter how much that reality irritated him.

Severus detested knowing that this would most surely be his end. To know that he would die without his assassin even knowing who he really was, just so he could receive the satisfaction of seeing the Dark Lord stumped and shocked, was infuriating.

_So be it._

As Severus entered the manor and ascended an elegant marble staircase, he allowed his mind to momentarily fill with thoughts of her. If he were going to die, why shield just yet, if he had another moment or two to reflect on Hermione? He hoped she was still asleep. But it was no matter. If she awoke and tried to run after him, she wouldn't get far. Severus saw to that before he left...

_This is why you came to me, Lily_, his mind gathered just before he reached the top of the staircase. _To let me know that, before the end, I had what I'd wished for all my life..._

Severus's eyes surveyed the scene before him with silent trepidation. His heart was beating faster than usual, and his mouth felt suddenly parched. Just as he entered the room, Lord Voldemort turned around, attuned to the wizard's quiet arrival. Lucius and Bellatix were also present, as were Narcissa and Draco. Narcissa and Draco looked particularly nervous, and Draco's eyes were darting frantically between the Dark Lord and his godfather, as if he already knew what was about to unfold.

"Ahhh, Severus, come," Voldemort beckoned.

Severus strolled forward, trying to keep his head up and his stance rigid but was finding that task more difficult than usual. He could feel the trembling coming on, but not for the reasons that usually brought them; not on account of an exhaustive amount of Legilimency, or rage, or the winter gust from outside, but something else he wasn't at all used to: fear.

"My Lord." He gave a curt bow, then stood firm and didn't move.

Lord Voldemort looked him over, undoubtedly searching for something, probably any hint of lies or deceit, but he would find none. Not with his most trusted servant already prepared, shielding against his mind tricks and consistent, predictable habit of scrounging for information.

"So?" he hissed, his voice not yet unhinged. "Where is the girl?"

"There's been a problem, my Lord," Severus said, with the slightest bit of hesitation seeping through his voice.

Voldemort's red eyes brightened. "Oh?"

Severus took a calculated breath, preparing for the onslaught. "I don't believe she will be coming after all."

At this, Voldemort's face morphed into fury like the flickering of a candle. It was terrifying and unsettling, and he stepped into Severus's personal space with his face mere inches from Severus's own.

"_What?_" he whispered dangerously.

* * *

**A/N #2: The idea of having Severus just tell the sick bastard where he could go stuff it was _exceedingly_ tempting, but, alas, not in this story. It would be fun to write at some point.  
**

**PiccolaScintilla has made another stunning piece from the last chapter. I really like the quote she included, too. Be sure to check it out (links on my Profile, and a huge thanks to her!): _piccolascintilla deviantartcom [slash] art [slash] Thank-you-Hermione-322270543_  
**


	37. Playing With Fire

**A/N: Another chapter that was beta'd and then I had to go and add to it, so, again, there may be a few errors. And, alas, some violence.  
**

_**Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.**_

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 37: Playing With Fire**

Hermione had heard that crackle and pop and shot up in bed immediately. Her eyes blinked, looking around at the empty space in a panic.

_Severus._

The bed felt lifeless and empty, and her head turned to the spot beside her where he had been only minutes before. Her hand glided over the bedding, his spot still warm and not yet cool to the touch.

"No..."

Hermione snatched up her wand and stumbled out of bed, praying that she was wrong about the noise she swore she heard. She ran to the loo across the room, her mind already certain that she wouldn't find him there, but she had a compulsive urge to check just to be sure.

Of course, he wasn't there. Hermione's eyes darted about the room. A note? Something—_anything_—he might have left behind to let her know where he had gone? In her brief scan of his quarters, however, she found nothing; nothing to confirm for her that he had just stepped out and would shortly return.

That's when her heart really started to race. She frowned and whisked her clothes off the floor to dress haphazardly and without a thought to how she looked.

_Please, Merlin, let me be wrong_, she hoped as she closed her eyes and focused on Disapparating. But to her shock and horror, nothing happened.

"What the..."

Then the dawning realization came fast and unforgiving. _NO!_

A handful of heavily-guarded protective charms prevented her from making an escape. Why would he have done such a thing, unless he wanted to stop her from coming after him?

_If you expect me to take the long route, Severus, just so you can have your way, you have another thing coming!_

Hermione snarled aloud without realizing it and attempted immediately to combat the various charms Severus had in place. But they were far more complicated and advanced than she expected. She tried various spells, but only a handful of them worked, and not very well at that.

_Son of a bitch! NO! No, no, no!_

After several long, frustrating minutes, however, Hermione was finally able to break free of her confinement. It had taken a lot more energy than she anticipated. _That was on purpose_, she reflected sourly. Severus surely must have known she would be able to do so, but it was obvious that he was trying to delay her in every way possible.

Once free, Hermione's mind briefly reflected upon Harry and Ron, no doubt still asleep in their tent; or so she hoped. "I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered to no one, guilt-ridden over the fleeting decision she was making.

_Severus over Harry. The hated Headmaster over the Chosen One._

Severus's defining words from earlier that morning rang in her ear. 'What about Potter? He needs you, Hermione. Don't abandon him because of me.'

But she was already resolved, and the decision both liberated and appalled her all at once. _Hermione, you selfish fool..._

Hermione quickly shook off her berating thoughts. It was no matter now. She _had_ to get to Severus quickly. She had heard Draco on more than one occasion gloating about his family estate—how grand and esteemed it was, in a secluded part of Wiltshire where they resided. She hoped that would be enough to get her to her destination. It was the last place in the world she wanted to go, but she was certain that Severus was in trouble and about to make a fatal mistake she couldn't let him make. Not for her. Not if she could prevent it.

Hermione's body whirled as her feet met solid ground. Ahead of her, just a short distance away, was the dark, foreboding manor she had been told to avoid at all costs. Hermione suddenly felt weak at the knees and gulped as she tried to propel herself forward, though now with far less confidence and resolve than before.

_Shield your mind, Hermione. You know how; he taught you how. Do it._

Hermione made her way towards the front gates and could feel the engulfing protection and strong, intimidating magic of this pureblood residence. It felt unsettling and made her skin crawl.

Then she all but stopped in her tracks when she spotted someone open the front door to the estate and progress quickly towards the gates, and to her. Her body froze, and she clenched her wand so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

With an abrupt flash, the wizard in question passed through the gate without issue, and Hermione immediately took several steps back and raised her wand. Whoever the wizard was, he was blatantly scanning her up and down, wearing a devilish sort of smile that made her sick to the stomach. His clothes were tattered and his long, brown locks looked grimy at best.

"Well, well, well," the wizard grinned odiously, "what have we here? Granger, isn't it?"

Hermione felt her heart leap into her throat. "How - How do you know my name?"

Suddenly, several more wizards came into view, progressing through the front gates and casually strolling forward to join them. They seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. Hermione's arm convulsed as she attempted to keep her wand steady, her eyesight alert, and her mind protected.

The wizard who had addressed her seemed to be the leader of this small pack of ruffians. Hermione scanned their faces—all dirty—their hands unclean and their attire soiled and unkempt. Even standing a few feet away, Hermione could smell their ghastly stench. It had obviously been a while since any one of them had showered.

_Snatchers._

"I'd lower that if I were you," said the leader of the pack, nodding towards the drawn instrument in her hand.

Hermione surveyed the seven or eight wizards that now surrounded her. Perhaps, if she were swift, she could take a few of them out easily enough, and her frightened mind considered the dangerous move for several seconds before the conscientious part of her mind reminded her that if she did so, Severus would likely be the one getting in trouble for it.

She had willed herself to come of her own accord, and that was the part she would play. If it spared Severus's life and prevented his cover from being blown, then Hermione thought it worth the risk, only now—staring at all the foul faces around her—her determination was waning fast.

Hesitant and ever more fearful, Hermione slowly lowered her wand, swallowing hard at the gaping, unnatural looks her presence caused. Several of the men showed her their yellow, rotting teeth, winking or whistling or cooing offensively.

"She's better lookin' than I thought."

"Yeah, a real looker, this one."

"The Dark Lord will be pleased."

"Yes, pity_ we_ can't have her."

"She's got some good stock on her, too."

The leader stepped forward, causing Hermione to startle and rear back, which received several satisfied snickers. He gradually circled her, surveying her figure with a dark look that made Hermione easily flustered.

Then he reached round behind her and shocked her by snatching her around the arms. He brought a hand around to her chest to fondle one of her breasts, which made her instantly jerk and squirm.

"Nice tits, love," he snickered in her ear, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Hermione continued to squirm and try to free herself, but to no avail. Several of the men closed in on her, and it took every ounce of Hermione's composure not to cry out for help, knowing full well no one would come.

"Time to meet the Dark Lord," the wizard cackled excitedly, and Hermione was suddenly dragged towards the estate, her legs fighting every step of the way.

"No! Stop!" she exclaimed, trying to break free, but it was no use. "Where's Severus? _Where is he?_"

"Severus?" inquired one of them curiously.

"On a first name basis, are we?"

"Lucky bastard."

"You'll find him inside, love. He's been waiting for you."

_Waiting for me? How's that possible?_

There was no time to take in her surroundings. Hermione could barely make out where she was headed as her body was hauled up a flight of stairs, the echoing footsteps of those around her drowning out her soft cries of distress.

Hermione was thrust forward into a room off to the right, and as her eyesight adjusted, she took in a darkened room, a roaring fireplace, and several figures she recognized. Draco, for one, looked positively stunned to see her, and if she dared allowed herself to believe, fearful, not for himself but for her. She noticed Lucius Malfoy standing a few feet away, and the disturbing Bellatrix with her snarly bout of black curls and maddening eyes was closest to her.

The most unsettling sight of all, however, was Lord Voldemort himself, and Hermione all but cried out when their eyes locked on each other. How Harry had met the man—creature, really—several times already was beyond her comprehension now that she saw him in the flesh. He was an unsightly, horrifying _thing_ to behold. The catlike grin that spread across his face when he took notice of her nearly made Hermione's heart stop beating.

"My Lord," said the leader of the Snatchers, still holding tight to her arms, "she's arrived. She's here."

Hermione was thrust onto her knees with her head pulled back so that she couldn't divert her gaze. It was only then that she saw the last figure standing in the room, and her eyes immediately enlarged.

_Severus._

The look he bore her was unreadable to all, but even at a considerable distance, Hermione could sense the series of heightened emotions beneath the mask. Bewilderment, panic, angst, horror, anger...

"Thank you, Scabior," Voldemort expressed quietly. "You may go keep watch, the lot of you. Get out."

There were a few audible grunts and griping as the gang shuffled out of the room. Scabior gave Hermione one last shove forward and removed his hold on her, brushing his hands off as he waltzed out of the room.

"Miss Granger." The manner with which Voldemort said her name made Hermione nauseous. It sounded unnatural, almost possessive. "How good of you to come. Severus was just informing me how he didn't think you'd be coming, but it would seem he stands corrected." Voldemort casually turned to a subtly stunned Severus. "Isn't that so?" he baited in his eerie hiss that always bordered on loss of control at any given moment.

Severus stared at Hermione for a moment, their eyes fastened to each other with silent reservations from both. Severus's dark eyes shifted as he answered his master's question.

"Indeed," he whispered, careful to keep his expression blank.

Bellatrix skipped forward and grabbed Hermione by the chin, forcing her to turn away from Severus momentarily to be face-to-face with the crazy witch.

"Clever little Mudblood," she spat in a high-pitched cackle. "Thought he was on your side, did you? Thought Snivellus here wanted to be your _friend?_"

There was a strange exchange that happened between Bellatrix and Severus when the witch looked away from Hermione towards him. Hermione knew not what to make of it. Bellatrix almost seemed to be provoking _him_ rather than her, but the dark wizard didn't bat an eye, nor alter his expression.

Bellatrix turned back to Hermione and squeezed the young girl's jaw with her hand, causing Hermione to wince in pain. "You won't be a clever girl when _I'm_ through with you!"

"Now, now, Bellatrix," said Voldemort calmly, "what did we discuss?"

Bellatrix immediately removed her grasp and sunk her head with embarrassment, blushing furiously. "She's yours, my Lord," she mumbled.

"That's right. And?"

Bellatrix took a calculated breath. "And I'm not to touch her until you say so, my Lord."

"That's right. And what have you just done?"

A flicker of fear washed over Bellatrix's face. "Sir... I... She - She should be punished, my Lord."

"And she will be..."

For a moment, Hermione was certain that it wasn't just her who was going to receive a severe punishment, but then the tension in the room passed when Voldemort turned to Severus with a new, all-knowing smile.

"Severus here may do the honors. I haven't decided. We shall see."

_What?_ Hermione's mind began to race. She had never even considered that as a possibility. And then a wave of guilt overpowered her. _No wonder he was so insistent about all of this..._

Severus, who had been focused on Hermione since the second she entered the room, turned away from her at last to bow his head to Voldemort. The lack of feeling in his entire demeanor was a bit frightening to her, and she found her confusion mounting the more she watched him.

Voldemort glided forward until he was only feet away from her, and Hermione found it difficult to keep her focus. Her entire body was now quivering, and she was petrified over what would be unleashed upon her. For a fleeting moment, she lamented her decision to come. But when her eyes darted around the Dark Lord towards the black figure watching them both, her reason became clear all over again.

"Miss Granger," Voldemort murmured, diverting her attention back to the towering creature in front of her, "I will make this simple." He crouched down to her level, and Hermione instantly scooted back, her eyes widening. "Where is Harry Potter? Where have you been hiding him from me?"

"I..."

Hermione suddenly felt a severe pressing on her brain and knew immediately what was being done to her: Legilimency. Hermione did her best not to panic, but the Dark Lord was cunning, alarmingly powerful, and soon she felt a force she couldn't reckon with as she tried to fight back.

Lord Voldemort breached Hermione's shield and scrounged through her mind, looking for what he wanted. Any small attempts Hermione made to block his penetration were matched or overpowered within moments; the sheer force and might of his capability alarmed her. Hermione tried not to cry out as he dug further against her will and felt her body starting to convulse violently, responding to being so terribly invaded without being able to prevent it.

"N - No," she stammered. "No! No, no..."

"Forest of Dean," Voldemort issued triumphantly, his disturbing grin widening. "Yes... How sad you were. How very sad. You left them vulnerable, didn't you? You left them all alone to fend for themselves."

"_No!_" Her retort was very weak. "No... Please..."

"Interesting... I wonder why..."

Hermione went into full panic mode and attempted to block him further. If he breached her thoughts about Severus, of their many times together, of the numerous compromising conversations they had had, all of her efforts to save his life by coming here would be for naught. They would _both_ be dead.

There was a sudden, strange sort of glimmer on Voldemort's face, and he suddenly drew back, his slits for eyes enlarging. He hissed loudly in a manner that made Hermione shiver with dread, but she had no idea why he was reacting in such a way. She didn't think she had done very well in blocking any more of his advances.

Her mind, however, was abruptly her own again, and she let out several heaving breaths as she cast her eyes upon Severus once more, who had his hands latched behind his back, his countenance still unreadable. She was still shaking from the unwanted Legilimency.

"_Who's doing that?_" Voldemort exclaimed.

Everyone in the room jumped back, save for Severus. The Dark Lord swiftly thrashed around but turned away from Severus quickly, instead gliding towards Lucius on the opposite end of the room.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he spat dangerously.

"M - My, Lord?" Lucius could only stare, skittish and unsure of what he was insinuating.

"No," Voldemort seemed to conclude with a calmer air after a pause. "That wasn't you..."

Voldemort peered over at Severus with a visibly questioning look that made Hermione's heart leap. The heat in her chest rose, along with her already tattered nerves. She may not have been as proficient in deciphering body language as Severus, but she could detect well enough that something was very off, and that Severus might be in trouble.

"I'm _a lot_ better at Occlumency than you think!" she snarled with much feeling, causing everyone to re-shift their focus onto her. Her voice was unsteady, but her will was unwavering.

"You dare address the Dark Lord without being spoken to!" Bellatrix barked and drew her wand, pointing it directly at Hermione's face, ready to strike.

"That's enough," came her master's sober command, and Bellatrix reluctantly took another step away from Hermione, corroding her lower lip and fighting the obvious urge to want to inflict harm. "She will pay soon enough."

Voldemort drifted over to Severus again, circling him for a long, drawn out pause without much intonation. _Was he trying to penetrate Severus's mind?_ Hermione considered, her heart beating fast. _Had the psychopath somehow sensed a connection between them, or doubted Severus's loyalty? Had Severus penetrated the Dark Lord's mind to distract him from delving further? Severus, no!_

Finally, the edge to Voldemort's invasive stare abated, and Severus didn't appear at all disgruntled at being scrutinized so severely. Whatever Voldemort was looking for, he now seemed appeased and satisfied.

"I will be leaving the Carrows in charge of Hogwarts for the time being," Voldemort instructed, "and I will be leaving you to oversee things whilst I am away, Severus."

Severus turned to him and gave a respectable bow. "Yes, my Lord."

Hermione hated hearing none of the familiar sentiments in Severus's words or in his deep voice that she had grown to love. It was neutral, devoid of feeling, and she despised hearing it.

"My Lord?" Bellatrix seemed to think twice before taking a step towards her master, twirling her wand in hand, though not with her usual brand of confidence. "Might it be better suited if Lucius were left in charge of this operation? I - I've expressed to you before my concerns about Severus's—"

"I'm well aware of your apprehensions, Bellatrix," Voldemort interrupted, and Severus's upper body stiffened slightly as he eyed the witch through narrowed, beady eyes. "And I have already given both you and Lucius my impression of things."

"But considering how long it took him to bring her to us—"

"I have some unfinished business to attend to. I will be leaving Severus in charge until I return, and that's final, Bellatrix. I suggest you desist."

Bellatrix scowled and diverted her eyes from Voldemort. It was obvious how ill her regard was, and despite the wrath she feared from her master, she stared Severus down with a nasty curl of her upper lip.

"Come, Nagini," Voldemort murmured in a strange, affectionate tone that Hermione found quite discomforting, even sickening.

With a loud pop, Voldemort Disapparated with his snake at his side, leaving the atmosphere momentarily quiet and stifling. As soon as he was out of sight, however, Bellatrix disobeyed her master's orders. She stomped over to Hermione and grabbed her by a fist full of her hair. Hermione yelped at the woman's hard yank and tried to free herself, but Bellatrix brought her arms around her back and cast a pair of burning shackles around her wrists. Hermione cried out at the scorching heat unleashed on her skin.

"I'd like to have a talk with this one!" she sputtered with a sinful smile, ignoring Hermione's cries of distress. "Just the two of us, girl to girl!"

Crouching down so that her lips were pressed to Hermione's ear, she hissed, "I know what you took from my vault, you little bitch. _You will pay..._"

Hermione squirmed and whimpered excitedly, but then Severus's calm voice of order and reason echoed across the room, "You will do no such thing."

The authoritative manner with which he spoke—the exact tone he used to practice on Hermione and her peers—made Bellatrix halt. She shot him a challenging sort of glare and defiantly placed her wand beneath Hermione's chin.

"I don't take orders from you!"

"Oh, yes, you do." The dark look on Severus's face startled Hermione to see. It was the expression that only a Death Eater could exhibit, and she had never seen it from him before. "The Dark Lord has left me in charge in his absence. You _will_ obey me, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix ignored him and peered down at Hermione. "Well, little Mudblood, considering what you stole from my vault, let's see just how clever you are, shall we?"

Just as she was about to cast some dark incantation Hermione was vulnerable to, Severus snarled, "I would hate to have to inform the Dark Lord that not only have you disobeyed me, but him as well. The consequences, Bellatrix, as I'm sure you are aware, would be quite severe if he found out you didn't obey my commands. And I would be more than happy to tell him about the missing cup... You don't want to displease him, do you?"

Hermione braced herself, and after an agonizing pause, her head was thrust forward and the grip on her hair was gone. Bellatrix grumbled something under her breath and backed away with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Wise choice, Bellatrix," Severus sneered. "I believe Scabior still holds possession of Miss Granger's wand. Go retrieve it from him."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open, dramatically affronted. "Go get it yourself!" she half screamed. "I won't do your bidding, Snivellus! I'm not your bitch!"

The corners of Severus's lips curled into an instigating smile. "_Oh, yes, you are..._"

"WHY YOU—"

Bellatrix and Severus reached for their wands at the same time, but Severus drew his faster. Hermione reared back, terrified, as Severus cast _Expelliarmus_ nonverbally. Bellatrix's wand flung out of her hand and across the room. Stunned, the maddening witch gasped at what just happened too quickly for her to comprehend.

"Severus," Lucius warned, a little too casually for Hermione's taste.

Severus simply ignored him. "I would suggest you not press me, Bellatrix, and do as I ask, or you'll lament it when the Dark Lord returns."

He waited another moment or two, watching with secretive mirth how disgruntled the woman was, before flinging Bellatrix's wand back to her, though purposely not far enough. It tumbled along the floorboards and the witch was forced to scurry after it. She snatched it up with additional loud cursing.

"Do as I say. _Now_."

Bellatrix hissed at Severus as she stalked out of the room, shooting Hermione down as she left. Hermione averted her eyes and kept them focused on her wizard several feet away. His attention was now on the Malfoys, however, who had been surveying most of these events thus far in silence.

"Lucius, I want you to keep an extra close eye on that babbling, deranged sister-in-law of yours."

Narcissa looked like she was on the verge of coming to her sister's defense, but Lucius put up a hand to stop his wife from speaking. "And why should I do that?" he challenged his old schoolmate, his steel blue eyes fierce now that Voldemort was gone.

Severus's eyes constricted. "Because if she flies off the handle, Lucius, it is not I who will be in trouble, but the rest of you. You disregard my commands and do as you all please,_ I_ inform the Dark Lord." Lucius's cheeks flushed, and Severus knew he had the man cornered. "And he will come down on you so fast and furiously you won't know what hit you. I strongly advise you not to do anything so careless that will force me to inform him. Unless you are prepared and ready to accept the consequences..."

Lucius didn't say another word but appeared as though he had every indication of wanting to burst at the seams and spew absurdities. With an aggravated growl, he stomped out of the room, his snake cane in hand and his jaw set at a most unpleasant angle.

Narcissa and Draco remained, appearing the most trepidatious about everything, and awaited their instructions with far less complaint. "Please leave us," Severus ordered them. He turned back to Hermione and twirled his wand in a menacing fashion that almost made her leery of his intentions. It wasn't remotely reminiscent of the man she knew and loved. "I would like some time alone with Miss Granger. I believe some repentance is called for..."

Narcissa gave the dark wizard a surprisingly disgusted look over and progressed to the door quickly, not giving the prisoner in her home a fleeting glance. Draco, however, lingered, his weary eyes darting from one to the other. Prodded by whatever flicker of a message the boy gathered in Severus's eyes, he hurried out of the room after his mother and closed the door.

Hermione was, at first, too relieved to talk, but it was just as well. Severus promptly cast a strong Muffling Charm on the room, as well as several protective enchantments, undoubtedly so that no one might barge in on them unexpectedly. And when he returned his attention to Hermione, the hard, emotionless mask was gone, replaced by a mixture of rage and the utmost angst.

Crossing the room in only three or four strides, he kneeled down before her, removed the burning shackles with a wave of his wand, and shook her violently. His hands clasped down on her arms with a force that shocked her.

"_What the hell's the matter with you?_" he snarled ferociously, the level of his temper rising with every word. "_What on earth were you thinking, Hermione?_"

"I..."

"Do you have _any_ idea of what you've stupidly put yourself into?"

"But I—"

"Do you have the slightest inkling of the position you've forced _me_ into? _Have you?_"

"I - I was just trying to—"

"_Be silent!_"

Hermione frowned, his hammering command more than enough to make her obey. She shut her mouth and waited, watching as Severus ran his elongated fingers through his hair several times. She noted that his hands were shaking, and that the rest of him was additionally starting to unravel.

"How could you do something so irrevocably stupid?" he hissed, curling his upper lip. "After all the warnings I gave! After I literally begged you not to come!"

"Severus—"

"_Don't speak!_" He shot her an infuriated glare that made her jerk back. "What you have done... You have no idea what you have just signed yourself away to! You foolish, brainless, ridiculous, simpleminded _girl!_"

"Severus, please!" Hermione implored, stricken by such scorn.

Her frown deepened, and she expected him to silence her again, but all he did was cast his fingers through his hair repeatedly, his tremors growing worse the longer she waited for him to say something else. Desperate to reach him, and knowing their time together would be far too brief, Hermione took her chances and placed her hands around his face. He stopped what he was doing long enough to look at her—_really_ look at her—and she could tell his nerves were shot.

"Severus," Hermione whispered close to his face, "please hear me out. I _had_ to come. I wasn't going to let you just throw everything away that you've worked so hard for. But more than that, and _you know this, Severus_, I know you do, I wasn't going to let you throw your life away on my account, and so recklessly at that! Don't talk to me about foolishness! And your just leaving me this morning without even saying goodbye? How could you do such a thing? Would you have liked it if _I'd_ done that to _you?_"

"Don't, Hermione—"

"We're in this together!" Hermione could feel the tears prickling her eyes and her hands clamped down harder on his face. "_I love you!_ I couldn't let you do this. Not for _my_ sake. I'll take my chances, and I'd do it again if necessary! Now help me think of something. We have to figure this out. _Help me, Severus!_"

Severus stared at her without blinking for a few harrowing seconds before he leaned forward to bring her into his unsteady arms. Hermione buried her face in his cravat, her fingers pinching his back as she held onto him, terrified, yet hell-bent on trying to stay strong.

A warm hand pressed the back of her head, and Hermione instinctively buried herself further, her sight obstructed by a mass of black hair. "I'm going to Disapparate you while we're alone, and while I still can."

"What? _NO!_" Hermione drew back, frantic. "Bellatrix will suspect it! She'll say something! So will Lucius! You _can't_ Disapparate me, Severus. I have to somehow get out of here freely, of my own accord, and not until Vold—the Dark Lord—returns! If I escape under _your_ watch, that leaves you in danger! He'll surely kill you!"

"So be it," he growled, narrowing his eyes into slits.

"Shut up! I won't let you do that!"

"Hermione, you don't understand! When the Dark Lord returns, what he'll do to you..." His voice drifted off and he swiftly gathered the side of her face in his grip. "He'll hurt you, Hermione. He will more than likely ask me to do so, too. _Please..._ Please don't force me into that position, I beg you. Go now. _GO!_"

"No!" Hermione brought her forehead to his. "I'm not going anywhere! Not yet! At some point, you have to get my wand, Severus. That's the only way I - I can make a break for it. Just - Just get me my wand, and I - I can do the rest."

"Hermione—"

"_Shut up and listen to me for once!_"

The force of her command took Severus by surprise, and it took him a moment to refocus. Hermione drew her hand up to graze his cheek, suspecting that it might at least lessen all the built up tension; and it did. The harsh lines of his face softened and shrunk.

"Hermione," he pleaded, sounding entirely unlike himself, weakened and crestfallen. "Please..."

"Get me my wand, Severus. Find a way. I know you can get it to me. I know it, or I wouldn't ask it of you. Please, just do as I say,_ just this once!_"

Severus's dark eyes suddenly shifted from her to the door. "Bellatrix is coming. And there are others."

Severus shot up from the floor before she had a chance to reply and hastily removed the incantations in place. Hermione fumbled about, confused, but by the time she scooted around to face him, Severus was making his way back to her, his long robes rippling along the wooden floorboards.

"What's going on?"

"I'm sure she's highly suspicious of my asking to be alone with you."

"I gathered that much."

"Yes, well..." He averted his eyes, which Hermione found peculiar until an understanding hit her like a ton of bricks.

"Do something, Severus," she demanded quietly. Severus shifted his weight and tugged awkwardly at a few of his buttons. "Severus, you have to. You don't have a choice—"

"_Yes, I do!_" he sniped, finally meeting her eyes, their gaze sustained only by her own determination not to look away.

"No, you _don't_, Severus. You have to."

"Hermione—"

"DO IT!" she exclaimed, growing increasingly anxious. "If she comes in here, and you've done absolutely nothing to me, it will only heighten her suspicions! _Do something!_ Now!"

As the footsteps grew louder, so did Severus's reluctance to raise his wand. Hermione narrowed her eyes, the force of her determination and courage coming from somewhere she knew not of. It was always that way in the past, and she went readily along with her instinct.

"If you don't do something, I'll force you to..."

Horror danced across Severus's eyes, but Hermione held her ground. She started to raise herself from the floor, knowing it might finally provoke him to react, and it did. Severus slowly raised his wand, his arm trembling out in front of him like Hermione had never seen. The wizard was never not in control or unsteady when using his magic, and it alarmed her greatly to see him struggling to use it.

Hermione quickly looked away, partly to make the act easier for him, but also because she didn't really want to look at the person she loved about to cast some dark jinx or hex upon her. She swallowed her fears and willfully closed her eyes.

_I... I'm sorry, Hermione_, his voice whispered inside her head, only it sounded almost like a feeble moan, causing Hermione to startle where she was.

Before she could think of anything to say back, however, Severus waved his wand and her hands were bound into burning shackles again, which made her wince, but what followed then was far more painful.

Severus cast an incantation, and a burst of white light charged out of his wand, hitting her straight in the shoulder. Hermione toppled over onto her stomach and cried out in pain, squeezing her eyes shut against the blow, just as Bellatrix came charging into the room with several Death Eaters in tow.

"What the... She's not to be touched,_ remember?_" Bellatrix reprimanded with a highly-charged snarl. "The Dark Lord said—"

"She left me no choice," Severus interrupted, that unemotional response and demeanor back in place; it additionally made Hermione cry out, for she couldn't help herself. It sent chills through her body, despite the already excruciating pain in her shoulder. "It was a mere Stinging Hex, Bellatrix. Calm yourself."

There were a few delighted snickers from the Death Eaters behind the demented witch, but Bellatrix scowled severely, showing no indication of buying into whatever Severus was pulling. "The Dark Lord will not—"

"The Dark Lord knows of my intentions, Bellatrix. He wouldn't want Miss Granger here to have a chance at casting Legilimency on his most faithful servant, now would he? And, pray tell, does he ever question _you_ on your way of thinking? Or what you've let slip out of your grasp that is his?" At that, Bellatrix's crazed eyes widened, then returned to their normal shape. Severus gave a terse nod to the extra instrument in her possession. "I'll take that. Hand it over."

Bellatrix, however, grasped it tighter and stepped back. Hermione raised her head high enough to find the witch clasping her wand in one hand and her own in the other.

"No!" Bellatrix barked. "_I_ will hold onto it!"

"You will do no such thing." Severus's voice was collected and calm, but carried with it all the unwavering authority others couldn't match. "Hand it over, Bellatrix. Now."

The Malfoys suddenly reappeared and fought their way through to the front of the small crowd that had formed in the doorway. Lucius watched Severus heatedly, but Narcissa turned to her sister and gently tugged at her arm.

"Sister, please," she begged softly. "Do as Severus says. He'll only get you in trouble if you don't."

Bellatrix considered the matter for a moment before she threw the wand at him with all her might. Severus merely slowed the wand's speed nonverbally and took it into his hand with ease.

"Thank you," he offered with a provocative smirk that made her growl like an animal.

"And what of Miss Granger?" Lucius prodded, taking a step towards the young lady on the floor. When Severus said nothing, only peered down at Hermione with his hair flung forward, Lucius called out to one or two Death Eaters, "Take her to the uppermost cellar. I would imagine Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley may get wind that she's here soon enough. Shouldn't be too long now."

"_What?_" Hermione cried out, feeling like an utter fool. She hadn't considered that either of her friends might come looking for her here as well, but Harry had always suspected Draco of wrongdoing, so it didn't seem like too far of a stretch. "No! _No, please!_" she screamed as a pair of strong hands snatched her up and dragged her away. Hermione's head shot up as she was taken out of the room, the silhouette of Severus growing smaller and smaller. "Wait! NO! Please, no!"

The hefty doors to the room were shut and the sound reverberated in Hermione's ears. She had no idea where she was being led, only that Severus was gone, her friends were more than likely falling into a trap, and those she loved were in about as bad a situation as it got, including her.

_Severus_, her mind raced as she forcefully turned a corner and was lugged down a flight of stairs, _please help Harry! Don't let him come here! Get me my wand when you can! Please!_

* * *

Hermione had no idea how long she had been in captivity. The cellar she was placed in was cold and dark, without any natural light or furniture. She couldn't tell how many hours it had been, but surely, _It must be over twenty-four hours by now..._

At this point, it certainly felt long enough. She normally didn't mind small bouts of isolation, but this was something altogether less enjoyable and unpleasant.

Hermione situated herself in a far corner of the room and hardly moved. She wrapped her arms around her bent knees, clutching at herself for some sort of solace and warmth, as the cellar was freezing, and prayed that she wasn't going to go crazy soon. She thought she might have dozed off at one or two points, but it was hard to tell in so much darkness.

Hermione's mind racked over her situation but, more often than not, she wondered desperately when Severus might come, or what he might do. But as the hours clocked by, Hermione grew less and less confident that Severus might come for her, or somehow get her her wand.

_Where is he? What's happening? When will the Dark Lord return?_ She swallowed nervously, staring off into the shadows at nothing. _What will he do to me? What might Severus be forced to do?_

Hermione tried to shake off her questions. They had been turning over in her head with no relief or resolution. Instead, she closed her eyes, feeling drained despite her heightened nerves, when there was some distant shuffling she heard from somewhere down the hall.

Hermione shot up from the wall and stumbled onto her knees, waiting with bated breath as the steps drew closer, louder. Then the heavily-bolted, magically sealed door swung open, and a figure loomed in the open doorway, his or her face cast in shadow. Hermione could make out a mountain of snarly curls, and her heart instantly beat faster.

_Bellatrix._

"Well, it's about time I got you alone," she hissed; her voice was still high-pitched, but there was a certain dangerous air to it that Hermione hadn't heard before. It wasn't maddening. It was unnervingly calm.

The woman stepped forward, her high-heeled boots clicking eerily along the cement floor. Hermione scooted backward but fell side ways. Before she knew it, Bellatrix was upon her and had the girl pinned to the floor with the toes of her boots. She winced in pain but could barely make a sound. A handful of torches burst to life, bringing more light into the room, enough that Hermione could make out Bellatrix's severe scowl and infuriated dark eyes.

"Listen, here, you little wench," Bellatrix bent down, and Hermione caught a closer glimpse of the woman's irises, dead and void of feeling from so many years locked away in Azkaban. "Where's the cup? What did you do with it?"

"I..."

"_I want it back!_" she squawked, startling Hermione where she lay; she tried to rear back, though there was nowhere to go.

"I - I don't have it."

"I know that, you idiot girl!" she snarled and clenched her fists, her wand at the ready. "Thought you could outsmart me, did you? Thought I wouldn't come after you, did you? Thought you were actually safe?"

"I..."

"_Like I said!_"

Bellatrix placed her wand beneath Hermione's chin and crouched low, hovering over her victim with indisputable wrath. Hermione's arms ached from the weight of Bellatrix being over top of her, and it took everything she had not to cry out for help, even if the act itself would be futile.

"You and I are going to have a little alone time, Missy; _girl to girl!_"

Bellatrix's vivacious, evil smile was enough to twist Hermione's stomach into knots. She squirmed frantically and tried to wiggle free but could do nothing.

"N - No, please!"

Without warning, Hermione could no longer move, realizing that Bellatrix had silently body-bound her with a mere flick of her wrist. Hermione's eyes enlarged when the witch finally drew back and raised her wand, pointing it directly at her face. She wanted to scream, but there was no time.

Hermione's body felt like it had been set aflame, and the cries that had wanted to escape her earlier finally erupted from the very back of her throat. She shrieked in pain and horror as she was repeatedly electroshocked, clawed, and burned simultaneously. She could vaguely hear Bellatrix's vile cackling above her own screams, catching swift glances of the sadistic witch's transfixed and excited expression. The woman was seemingly taking great pride in the offensive magic she was using against a defenseless Hermione, delighted with the reaction she was garnering.

"_Please!_" Hermione managed to cry out between clenched teeth. "S - Stop! Pl - Please!"

But her pleas only seemed to make it worse. Hermione arched her back—screaming and hollering and begging for her torture to end—but that was about all she could do, and there appeared to be no end in sight. What was only minutes felt like forever, and Bellatrix had no plans to stop. She repeated her torturing techniques over and over again 'till Hermione couldn't scream anymore, 'till her voice was hoarse and broken.

"_This is the last time you annoying little brats mess with us!_" she shrieked, bearing her teeth.

Hermione couldn't respond. All she could think about was the pain, and the desperate desire to call for help, but she couldn't even muster the energy anymore. The suffering was too great now.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang. Bellatrix was knocked sideways and whatever combination of spells being cast upon Hermione were finally ended. Hermione's body fell limp, though she continued to whimper in pain. Her limbs hurt so badly she didn't dare move; all she could do was turn her head sideways to see Bellatrix stumbling to her feet, wandless and stunned.

"_You!_" the woman shrieked.

"You've overstepped me for the last time, Bellatrix," came that familiar low voice Hermione recognized, only his silhouette was in shadow, and she couldn't make out his face.

"S - Severus..." the words barely escaped her tongue, probably too low for him to hear. Bellatrix certainly didn't.

"How dare you interrupt me—"

"What did the Dark Lord say, Bellatrix?" Severus issued with extreme calmness.

Bellatrix's challenging stance wavered a bit. Her hands fell to her sides, trembling slightly.

"I was interrogating the Mudblood for information—"

"She's not to be touched until the Dark Lord says so!"

This time, there was more urgency and anger in his reply, and Bellatrix's face quickly drew into a sheepish, self-conscious disposition. "Very well!" she huffed, extending her hand for her wand. "But I - I want it back!"

"You'll get it back when I say so."

"_What?_ You have no right—"

"Get out of here. Now."

"NO! Not until I get my—"

"You're wandless, Bellatrix, and, at the moment, I possess _two_ instruments now in my possession. I won't hesitate to use them. Don't test my patience."

"But..." Bellatrix's outburst grew quiet. "But my wand..."

"_Upstairs, Bellatrix_."

"You can't keep me from my wand! I'll - I'll tell the Dark Lord when he returns!"

"And _you_ weren't supposed to touch that which is his!" Hermione didn't like the sound of that at all, and her head jerked forward. "I'll give you your wand back once you've regained your senses, and _not_ whilst in the company of Miss Granger. _Get out of here!_"

Bellatrix gave an aggravated growl and stormed out of Hermione's confinement, her shoes pounding and clicking down the hallway and up a flight of stairs before dying away. It was a short time, however, before Severus moved from the doorway that stood between Hermione and freedom.

She could now make out a glimpse of Severus's expression, and it was no longer rage, as she had detected before, but concern. He glided over to where she lay and kneeled down before her, his hands brushing all along her face, neck, and arms.

"Are you all right?" he urged softly, reaching his arm around her neck to lift her up.

Hermione wanted to protest but winced instead. The lingering sensations in her limbs were fading, but they still ached from the assault.

Hermione found herself cradled in Severus's secure arms, her head resting comfortably against his shoulder. She inadvertently rubbed her cheek on the fabric, closed her eyes and clasped onto a few of his buttons, unawares that she was shaking from head to toe.

"I'm so sorry," she heard him whisper, sounding desperate. "I only just went looking for Bellatrix and found her missing. I should have known she would try to pull something like this—"

"S - Severus?"

She sounded weak, but it couldn't be helped, and the frailty in her voice made Severus's heart stop. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Pl - Please... Get m - me out of here... _Please..._"

It was a simple request, but the gravity of it weighed heavily on the professor as he wove his arms more securely around her, clutching her to his chest. "I'll do everything I possibly can, Hermione, I promise. I... I should take you now."

Even in her frightened and fragile state, Hermione knew better. "No," she mumbled, holding on to his buttons tighter. "Bellatrix knows you're down here. She'll suspect you..."

"Doesn't matter anymore."

"_No, Severus_," Hermione pleaded more emphatically, though her voice was rough. "Find another way. Pl - Please..."

There was warmth against her forehead; a tenderness about the misunderstood man Hermione remembered, and she leaned into his touch, willing it to last. But it wasn't nearly long enough.

Commotion could be heard coming from above and Severus quickly withdrew her from his embrace, laying her down carefully onto the floor. Hermione whimpered in protest and reached out for him in the darkness, still trembling and more frightened than ever. Her eyes shot open as she heard him move away from her.

"S - Severus..."

"I'll come for you as soon as I can." His voice caught, alerted to the arrival of more Death Eaters and worried about leaving Hermione in the state she was in. "Don't move too much, Hermione. It will pass quicker if you don't move."

Hermione saw his robes ripple away and the door was cast shut with a tremendous thud. Panic-stricken, Hermione rolled onto her side, wincing all the while, and tried to crawl her way towards the door, tears stinging her eyes.

"Pl - Please, Severus!" she cried out, though she barely made a sound. "Please, d - don't leave me here! _Please!_"

Severus lingered by the door, looking in on the witch trying so desperately to reach him, now too weak and incapacitated to do so. He saw the flicker of tears streaming down her face and wanted to scoop her up right then and there, but then the voices grew louder. Half-afraid some of them might venture down the stairs to get a look at the Dark Lord's latest victim, Severus propelled himself backward with everything he had, though it was incredibly trying.

"Hang on, Hermione. Just hang on."

"No... Please!"

But Severus disappeared into the shadows. She couldn't even hear his footsteps, but it was irrefutable. He was gone.

Hermione collapsed onto the floor, defeated, and it wasn't long before—between her pain and utter exhaustion—she fell asleep right there on the cold cement. When she awoke, it was on account of very hefty footsteps coming her way. She raised her head, finding her limbs in a better state than before, though they still ached a little.

As Hermione squinted in the darkness, she made out a shadowy figure, now in front of her cell, looming down upon her from the outside. Hermione's heart sank. It wasn't Severus. She would detect his height and build anywhere. Then the voice spoke in a deep, eerie sort of voice that made Hermione's breath hitch.

"Come along, filthy Mudblood. The Dark Lord is waiting for you..."

* * *

**A/N #2: For those who may be curious, I won't be doing the Malfoy Manor bit from canon. With everything else that will be happening later in this story, particularly after _DH_, you'd probably all hate me for doing it.** **And she's already being held hostage, so doing it twice would be overkill. **

**Onward!**


	38. Not According to Plan

**A/N: **_**Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.**_

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 38: Not According to Plan**

Severus paced back and forth before the fireplace. It wasn't just Hermione racking his brain nonstop, though she was at the top of his concerns. He was also anxious about the place he now found himself. The rich, earthly colored furniture, the cherry woods that made up the room, the elegant-looking fireplace before him that he instantly recognized when he entered...

Lucius had told him to come in and make himself comfortable, but Severus could do nothing of the sort. He recognized this very place, even though it was a room at Malfoy Manor he had never been in before. He had envisioned it that day during one of Hermione's Legilimency lessons. Lucius digging for information, Severus, himself, suggesting that they perform mind torture on their victim, his pathetic, pleading words for forgiveness for the crimes he was going to commit...

He had seen this in his dreams. He had witnessed this happening, and now it confirmed what he had been long suspicious of: somehow, in some way, Severus had managed to look into his and Hermione's future.

_How is this possible? How did I manage to see this? Was it so that I could change something? But what is there to do? Damn it, Hermione! Why couldn't you have stayed away? Why?_

Severus already understood her reasons though, and they were sentiments he shared. He would have done the same. He sighed heavily and swiped loose hairs away from his face.

Just as he began to pace again, the door opened and Lucius waltzed in in his royal blue robes, much like Severus predicted and had previously seen. He spun around and shut the door.

"Well, she's been taken down to the cellar, but Potter and Weasley should be along soon."

"The Dark Lord will still be pleased, Lucius," Severus offered, trying to stay neutral and undetected. "You have quite the Snatchers."

Lucius gave an icy smirk and took a seat in an amber, leather-bound chair. He then motioned Severus to do the same, and Severus made a point of keeping his mind blank and his face unreadable.

"I can't take credit for Scabior and his gang of ruffians. That must go to my deranged sister-in-law."

"Then Bellatrix has done well."

Lucius offered a devilish grin that Severus only returned halfheartedly. "That's something, Severus, coming from _you_."

"Indeed." Pausing to look into the flames licking the hearth, he frowned. "I expect Miss Granger will not sleep well tonight."

_Or hasn't for the past two days. Hermione... My Hermione..._

"No, she won't." There was no hint of remorse in Lucius's reply, but his steel blue eyes abated as he searched Severus's worn features, and only just. "It's for the best, my friend. She's too much of a liability."

_What the hell is he getting at?_

"And if it were Draco?" Severus whispered quietly, before he could stop himself. Noting the delay in Lucius's response, he turned his gaze towards the proud wizard with long, blond locks whom he had known nearly all his life.

"I would do everything within my power to keep him from harm," Lucius answered with delicacy, "but he's also my son, Severus. Miss Granger is not family, nor is she worth the fuss you've made over her."

"I haven't made a fuss over her! I cannot stomach these assaults anymore, that is all. I know you can't either, Lucius, so do not lie to me."

"I wouldn't lie to you."

There's _a contradiction in terms_, Severus reflected with a twinge of bitterness.

"Then I think you should do the honors!"

_So that I might think of something! Anything to help her!_

"No." Lucius broke for silence, choosing his words carefully before continuing. "The Dark Lord has forbidden it. He's made his choice, and he's wanted Granger for a long time, Severus."

"As if I do not already know that, Lucius. Have you forgotten that it was _I_ who lured her here in the first place?"

_I didn't. That was the whole point... Hermione, why didn't you just listen to me, goddamn it?_

"I haven't forgotten, no. Only..."

"Only what, Lucius?"

The prominent Malfoy shifted in his chair but kept his focus firmly on his friend. "It took you longer than expected to bring her to us..."

Severus stared without blinking. He couldn't risk using Legilimency, in case Lucius already had himself shielded, which Severus suspected, so he simply altered his façade and gave his fellow Slytherin an emotionless glare.

"Miss Granger is highly intelligent, Lucius, far smarter than wizards more than half her age. It wasn't as easy as I anticipated, but I also know my student on a level that neither you nor the Dark Lord would understand, or know how to handle. She's exceedingly clever, so I had to be even more so."

"Yes, you do know her very well..."

The strange gleam in Lucius's eyes was unsettling, but Severus didn't dare show it. "I should. She was my student for six years."

"Mmm."

"Something on your mind?"

"Yes."

"Well?"

After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Lucius leaned forward in his chair with an all-knowing smile that immediately rubbed Severus the wrong way. "I think you've grown fond of her..."

"What?"

"You heard me," Lucius provoked softly, his handsome smile widening. "The Dark Lord is growing suspicious, you know. He grilled me just the other day about your relations with the Mudblood, and it got me thinking..."

_That's news to me_, Severus's mind reflected in a panic.

"You are way off base, Lucius!" Severus snarled, trying to sound as affronted as possible. "Then again, the way your warped mind works, I'm hardly surprised!"

"Am I?"

The dark intimidation to Lucius's body language was enough to get Severus's heart pounding, but his reflections would remain as silent as the grave. No one provoked Severus Snape and got the reaction they desired. Lucius, however, wasn't about to give up.

"You know, I've never told the Dark Lord about Lily Evans..."

Severus arched an eyebrow, nonchalant, though secretly he was nearly clawing at his insides. "What about her?"

"Oh, come off it, Severus! What kind of fool do you think I am? I know you were in love with her; with that bewitching, redheaded, silly Mudblood. You may have successfully concealed your feelings from Avery and Mulciber, but I'm not an idiot, my friend, and I am not fooled by you."

"You're pulling at strings, Lucius. Lily was a friend—nothing more—and only until she decided she'd had enough of me. And that is something I do not lament. She was the first friend I'd ever made in my life, but in the end, she wasn't worthy of it. Hers and Potter's deaths were of their own making."

Lucius's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I know you don't mean that."

"I assure you," Severus returned, trying to sound frank, though every word sickened him to utter, "I mean it. I don't know what you or the Dark Lord have in mind, but I care nothing for Granger. Only, these ritual assaults have grown tiresome and mundane. I cannot stomach them anymore. And, furthermore, they keep getting younger. It appalls me greatly."

Lucius eyed him in puzzlement. "Then what would you suggest?"

Severus braced himself inwardly for what he was about to convey. He already knew this was coming, and yet, he couldn't seem to stop himself. He had taught Hermione how to shield her mind, how to protect herself mentally, and could only pray that she would be up for the challenge. Having her sexually assaulted was out of the question.

"Perhaps a bit of mind torture. Hit Granger where it will do the most damage. She's always been a know-it-all; reverse that highly praised reputation of hers."

_Strike me down dead. Now. Merlin, please, just kill me._

It was a long moment before Lucius spoke, his mind considering his old friend's suggestion. Then he nodded, resolute.

"You shall have it."

Severus wanted to be sick, but he couldn't. He never could express himself properly, and thus, simply took it in stride and nodded back.

"Very well."

Severus returned his attention to the fireplace; he may have appeared uncaring, but inside the panic was reaching a stifling level. Lucius, however, could not detect anything to satisfy the theories he had presented. He cleared his throat and adjusted the snake cane situated against his thigh.

"I'm sorry, my friend. I thought you might have felt something for Granger. It seemed rather curious to me these past months, but perhaps I was mistaken."

_If you think I'm going to fall for that apology_, Severus reflected inwardly, _then you are a real fool, Lucius._

"I still don't believe a word of what you've said about Evans though," Lucius continued. "I know you cared for her, Severus. You won't convince me of such a lie. You were devastated by her death. Don't think I didn't see."

"Believe whatever will bring you personal satisfaction, Lucius, but I won't hear of it. You can keep your ridiculous accusations to yourself."

"I will. For now."

Their eyes met, and neither Death Eater said a word until Severus finally broke the silence with a low remark. "You already have, Lucius."

Lucius reared back, visibly shaken, undoubtedly at having been caught. "I have not!" he returned stubbornly.

"Yes, you have, Lucius. Don't think I don't know how you've been seeking to undermine me this whole time." Lucius's complexion went a shade whiter, his face freezing up. Severus let out a chilly bit of laughter. "You're a real fool, my old friend. You think you can outsmart me, you and that lunatic sister-in-law of yours? You should have thought better of it."

It took a moment for Lucius to find his voice. "Is that a threat?" he asked, doing his best to narrow his eyes and look affronted rather than afraid.

"No," Severus returned in a dangerous purr, "it's a promise."

Severus's defining words lingered in the air for a while before Lucius quickly looked away and got to his feet. Severus simply watched, refusing to remove his intense, challenging stare.

"Once the Dark Lord arrives, we'll begin." His voice was far less confident and suave than before. "I suggest you prepare yourself."

"I am already prepared." Inwardly, however, Severus had never felt more raw or disinclined.

"Severus," Lucius implored, "it will be a long night, and you'll need all your mental strength—"

"I said that I'm ready."

The finality in Severus's tone ended the conversation, and Lucius gave a curt bow and removed himself from the room, leaving the Potions Master to contemplate—frantically—his next move, just as he had seen played out in his dreams over a year ago. "Hermione." His voice pleaded, in a tender whisper that bordered on despair. "Hermione... My Hermione... Please forgive me..."

_Let this work. You should be well prepared for this. Please, let this work..._

* * *

Hermione was shoved up a flight of stairs and back into the room she had been in when she first arrived. She was tired and hungry and weakened, but when she spotted Severus, her heart compressed in her chest, and she tried to focus and muster some courage without any idea of what to expect. Severus was standing in front of the fireplace, and a number of other witches and wizards were present, making the room seem much more confined than before. Hermione could only assume there had been a recent Death Eater meeting; that or they had all shown up simply to watch her be tortured, just for the heck of it.

"The Dark Lord should be here any moment," Bellatrix squealed as she skipped over to Hermione and roughly took possession of her arm. "I'll take her, Mulciber."

"No, you won't," warned the wizard named Mulciber, his voice threatening and foreboding. His pale complexion, stained teeth, and grimy appearance only made him seem more dangerous to Hermione, who tried unsuccessfully to wiggle herself free. "Easy, love," he cackled softly, enjoying her struggle, "you aren't going anywhere. The Dark Lord has special plans for you."

"I'll take her!" Bellatrix tried again, biting on her lip as she tried to drag Hermione away from Mulciber's clutches.

"Who put _you_ in charge, dirty wench?"

Bellatrix's eyes enlarged with rage. "Why you vile, ugly—"

"That's enough."

Severus's rumble was enough to silence the two, and Hermione stared on nervously. She could detect nothing in Severus's eyes or expression that reassured her of what was to come, and she had no idea what that might be, only that it would probably be excruciating. Hermione didn't spot her wand in Severus's possession either, and that, too, weakened her resolve.

"Bring her here," Severus commanded, sounding almost bored.

Mulciber did as instructed, and Hermione found herself thrown down at Severus's feet, her chin nearly clobbering one of the wizard's boots. Hermione peered up at him, unaware that she was shaking uncontrollably, and was met with Severus's cold, emotionless stare. Yet, there was the evidence of some kind of understated torment at the back of his eyes that only she could see, and it made the unsettling knot in her stomach worse.

_Hermione_, came Severus's voice, unexpectedly breaching her mind, and Hermione quickly averted her eyes, afraid of giving them away. _I've entrusted someone to get you your wand, but there's nothing I can do in the interim. I... I'm sorry. Just don't say anything; don't give him any reason to harm you further._

_Severus—_

_Don't struggle or fight too much or the punishment will be much, much worse. Please, Hermione... Don't instigate or provoke him. Don't._

A pop resounded somewhere nearby, and Hermione all but coiled up into a ball. She didn't have to look up to gather who had just Apparated into the room. Her body immediately began to convulse harder; she attempted to shield her mind, despite her awareness that it probably wouldn't do her much good.

Severus's boots disappeared from her sight, the bottom of his robes trailing away from her. Far, far away...

_Severus!_ she screamed in her head, her panicking increasing tenfold.

"My Lord," she heard him address Voldemort instead.

"Has she been touched?"

"No, my Lord. I was forced to place a Stinging Hex on her after you left, but since then she has spent the majority of her time in the uppermost cellar awaiting your return."

"Has she been examined?"

"Yes, my Lord."

_What?_ Hermione's ears perked up. _No, I haven't. What is he talking about?_

"Excellent," she heard Voldemort say.

He paused long enough that Hermione forced herself to raise her head. Voldemort was several feet away, turning his wand in his long, ashen fingers, pondering something as he stared down at his instrument.

"I have it at last," he murmured quite happily, especially for him, to which Hermione scrunched up her nose. "It is mine. At last. _It is mine_."

Voldemort held it up for all to see and a wave of wonderment rose amongst everyone in the room at the wand he held in his possession. Hermione's mind came to a screeching halt.

_The Elder Wand._

"Congratulations, my Lord," Severus issued, somewhere on the edge of her paralyzed consciousness.

An evil grin drew across Voldemort's face and he stepped forward, Nagini slithering at his side, and the two of them surveyed Hermione, lying feeble and vulnerable on the floor. Severus had stepped back with his arms behind his back, watching them both intently, but Hermione could sense the wheels turning behind his eyes as he observed from a distance, no doubt wanting to intervene but unable to lift a finger.

Not that his watching and, perhaps, trying to come up with some sort of intervention would do her any good. She had no wand and no method of protecting herself. All she had was her mind and the instructions Severus had given her all those months ago.

"Miss Granger," Voldemort hissed in an almost affectionate manner that caused Hermione to shiver and bring her knees up closer to her chest, "it would seem that Harry Potter is no longer in the Forest of Dean. My Snatchers have been trying to locate his whereabouts for two days. Where is he?"

That was news to Hermione, but she was greatly relieved to know that, for the moment, her friends were safe. "I... I don't know..." she replied softly.

"Are you sure?"

"Y - Yes..."

Voldemort looked her over, and for whatever reason, Hermione felt horribly exposed by the way he was scrutinizing her, so unreservedly, as if he were peering right through her garments. Then he extended his arm—the one that held the Elder Wand—and spoke very gently, "If I must, then I must." As Hermione's heart beat harder in her ears, Voldemort cast a curse upon her she wasn't prepared for. "_Crucio_."

A throbbing, scorching electric shock shot through every limb of Hermione's body, as if she were being electrocuted on the spot. She thrashed back and forth and spasmed ferociously, crying out at the excruciating electric blasts that coursed through every part of her. The cries turned into whimpers when the curse was through, and Hermione went limp and tried desperately to catch her breath.

"Miss Granger, I must insist on knowing where Harry Potter is," Voldemort continued, his voice eerily calm and quiet for what he was doing to her. "Surely, as his closest friend, you _must_ know where he is. Severus informed me before that you refused to tell even him of the boy's whereabouts. Tell me and I won't harm you again."

Hermione stammered, "I - I don't know... I..."

"_Crucio_."

The terrible pangs shot through her all over again, only this time they were significantly worse, as if the previous incident were merely a warm up. Hermione couldn't prevent her cries of horrible distress and screamed at the top of her lungs, begging for it all to end. But it wouldn't. It went on for what felt like forever.

Severus, meanwhile, watched from afar, unable to help or aid her in any way. _Just like all those times before..._ He never imagined in recent months that he would find him and Hermione in this position, and observing from the sidelines was about as unbearable for him as it got.

_It's all right, Hermione_, she vaguely heard him reassuring inside her head. The pain was too great, however, for her to really focus on what he was saying. _It'll pass. I promise. Be strong. It _will_ stop._

And with that, the curse abruptly ended, and Hermione fell slack against the floor again, staring up into the horrific face of the most evil wizard she had ever seen. He was entirely devoid of compassion or sympathy or much of anything.

"Have you reconsidered things?" Voldemort pressed ever so gently, but still very menacingly.

"I. Don't. Know." She struggled to get the words out. "I don't! If - If they've left, I - I have no idea wh - where they are..."

Voldemort's face contorted without warning into a real expression, and it was of the utmost fury. The mask of composure was gone, and Hermione felt her back pressing into the floor, desperate to disappear, even though there was nowhere to go. In a moment of senseless panic, she tried Disapparating, but the shield in the manor was up, preventing her escape. She would get nowhere.

"Very well," Voldemort sneered, showcasing his teeth as he raised his wand again.

"No! Pl - Please!"

"_CRUCIO!_"

Severus closed his eyes, unable to hear the soft snickers from those around him. All he could hear were Hermione's piercing, gut-wrenching screams. The happy sentiments of many made his blood boil, but he was too focused on her to pay them any mind.

When he opened his eyes, his sight caught the violently thrashing outline of Hermione on the floor, her head whipping this way and that, her shrieks reaching a dire level of agony. His hand instinctively twitched, desperate to reach for his wand, and it took every ounce of composure he had not to do so.

When the curse was through for the third time, Hermione barely moved. Except for her heavy breathing, she didn't flinch or turn over or even try to crawl away. She couldn't move.

Voldemort studied her for a long moment before kneeling down to her level with his wand aimed at her chest. Then he used it to brush a few frizzy curls out of her eyes and brought it beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him through wet, hazy eyes.

"Perhaps, Miss Granger," he whispered, his red eyes narrowing, "Severus's Legilmency skills will extract the information we need."

Hermione's pupils expanded. She had expected Voldemort to penetrate her mind again, just as he had done before, not Severus. The professor stepped forward and nodded in accordance to his master's wishes, as if it were no big deal.

Voldemort drew up and instructed as he walked past Severus, "Do not be too ruthless, Severus. I'd prefer Miss Granger's brain _not_ turn to mush before this night is over. She may prove useful yet."

"Yes, my Lord."

Severus stepped forward into Hermione's fuzzy line of vision. She was having trouble focusing on him much at all. The curse was through, but why did her body still throb and ache, and why did she feel like she were virtually paralyzed? She blinked several times, trying to give Severus her unwavering attention. The stare he returned, looking down upon her, was sharp, yet seemingly without feeling.

_Hermione_, he said in her head, and she wasn't sure how he was doing so without the Dark Lord detecting anything, _don't reply; don't say anything back to me or he'll know. I need you to play along. I know you probably can't move right now; that will wear off. But I need you to at least make some noise. I need you to pretend, Hermione. I don't want to actually use Legilimency on you if it can be prevented, so please—I beg you—do something._

Severus raised his wand and pointed it at her face. She could just make out a reflection of reluctance behind the otherwise listless black eyes, but that was all. No one else, she was sure, would suspect the man of having any remorse or second thoughts about what he was doing. He played the part exceedingly well, she had to hand it to him, and might have made a point of telling him so if the circumstances weren't what they were.

"_Legilimens_," he murmured into the quietude of the room, and Hermione felt a very light pressing on her brain.

Immediately, she began to whimper. Her throat was dry and strained from screaming, so doing so was more trying than she expected. She was too drained to shift about, and when she tried to shake her head, her vision blurred and made her dizzy. Still, she made the best effort she could, knowing it wasn't much. And she wasn't sure how Severus was managing to pull this off in front of everyone, but she was too spent to think on it or question anything. She just wanted the pain to end.

Suddenly, a series of images were conjured up before her. _She and the boys running through the woods; sitting all alone outside the tent; getting up to leave and Disapparate..._ Hermione vaguely felt additional pressure on her brain and suddenly became aware of the situation. Not only was Severus formulating these memories together to piece something that Voldemort would buy, but Voldemort himself was additionally trying to penetrate her mind, as if he didn't entirely trust Severus to do what was being asked of him.

Hermione panicked, despite the horrible pangs. She prayed it would be enough, as she was incapacitated, weak, and unable to do much of anything. Then the images died away, fading to nothingness, and Hermione fell still, staring up at Severus's face, her frantic eyes searching his for answers. Shortly thereafter, she heard Voldemort speak up.

"That's enough, Severus." The dark wizard obeyed and lowered his wand, awaiting further instruction. "Do we have what we need?"

"I'm afraid Miss Granger was telling the truth. The latest images I could find were from their stay in the Forest of Dean. I couldn't find any information on where they intended to go next. It would seem that Miss Granger left Potter and Weasley shortly before they disappeared, or before such a conversation might have taken place."

"I see."

Hermione couldn't tell just how angry Voldemort might be, but she could hear the frustration in his voice. Would she receive another Unforgivable Curse? What would happen to her now?

"Step away," Voldemort ordered, and Severus did as commanded without question.

Hermione's heart beat faster once Severus was out of sight again, and she wasn't aware of the tears that were falling out of her eyes. The pain. The situation. The very reality that she could possibly die here hit her all at once.

When Voldemort came into view once more, it only made the pain in her chest worse. He knelt down again before her, and Hermione jerked, though only slightly, for she couldn't do much else. Then she felt the unexpected coldness of his hand graze her cheek. His hand inched its way down her neck, over her collar bone, down the center of her chest and, to her horror and alarm, down between her legs.

Despite still being clothed, Hermione felt terribly violated. She squirmed but couldn't prevent the evil wizard from doing whatever he physically wanted to her. All she could do was stare up at him, wide-eyed, as that creepy, catlike grin formed on his thin lips once more. She whimpered, her eyes pleading with the wizard to stop, not that he would listen.

"Yes..." he hissed, though Hermione couldn't tell if it was him or the snake, which suddenly made its appearance. Hermione reared back, petrified, as Nagini raised her head, her reptile face just inches from her own. "Warm. Soft. _Very warm_," Voldemort whispered as he fondled her inappropriately.

She felt a strange sort of magic penetrating between her legs and cried softly in horror. She didn't understand what he was doing, but it wasn't good, and she wasn't at all comfortable with it.

"Yes..." he murmured, almost in awe. "You _are_ fertile, my child. Most unfortunate." Hermione wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, cry for Severus and beg him to help her, but she had been rendered speechless by what was being done to her, and by the most powerful, dangerous wizard there was. "We shall have to remedy that if we are to keep you alive," Voldemort declared, sounding quite displeased. An echo of agreement reverberated around the room, along with a handful of wicked snickers. "The Mudbloods we choose to keep in our possession must _not_ be able to procreate. This will be dealt with soon. Take her to her cellar, Avery, until I am ready."

"Yes, my Lord," said the man named Avery, who stepped forward to claim the disadvantaged young witch.

_Procreate? Enslavement? No..._ Hermione wanted to be sick but was too tired to illustrate a proper reaction. _What's he going to do to me? No..._

Avery snatched her up quite easily, as if she weighed nothing at all, and proceeded to remove her from the room. Hermione could only watch upside down as she was led away. Severus was looking at her as she left, but she couldn't make out what he was thinking. Her vision was growing worse, so she willingly closed her eyes, fighting off her nausea and dizziness as she was led back to her cellar by Avery, who smelled quite foul. Even with her eyes closed, she could tell he was blatantly staring down at her breasts.

Hermione was thrown into her cellar and rolled over onto the floor, groaning at the hard impact her ribs made with the cold ground. She delicately curled up into a fetal position and kept her eyes shut, drifting out of consciousness before she would have liked, the last thought in her mind being that of the man she loved.

_Severus... Please... Get me out of here..._

* * *

"Granger?"

_Severus?_

"Granger!"

_Severus... Is that you?_

"Granger, wake up, would you? _C'mon!_ Before we both get caught!"

"Severus?" she mumbled into the darkness, keeping her eyes shut. Her head was pounding.

"Thankfully not," someone—a male voice—grumbled close to her face, sounding quite put out.

Hermione felt her upper body being lifted off the floor, albeit with difficulty. Whoever was attempting to raise her was having a hard time of it. She was dead weight at the moment and could hardly help herself, relying almost entirely on whoever it was that had their arms wrapped under her armpits.

"Wha... What's going on?"

"We're trying to get you out of here, that's what!" snarled the person heaving her unsuccessfully. "_Now move!_ Don't make me do all the work. C'mon! If I use any kind of magic, he'll know. Now, c'mon!"

"Stop pulling me," she moaned as her body was jerked this way and that against her will.

"Then wake the hell up and I won't have to!"

"No..."

"That Cruciatus Curse affected you worse than I thought."

"Mmm."

"I thought maybe you were just playing along when it all stopped so that he wouldn't do it again. I guess not."

"Of course, not!" Hermione growled, scrunching up her face at such a foolish assumption. "It hurt like hell. _Idiot!_"

"Watch it, Granger! Or I'll happily leave you here."

Hermione finally forced one bloodshot eye open. It took her a moment to adjust to the vision in front of her, but once she saw the person who was attempting to drag her out of the cellar, she let out an involuntary gasp.

"_Draco?_"

"Finally!" he groused, scowling down at her, his blond hair falling all around his face. She was surprised to see how ashen and sick-looking he was. He didn't look at all well. "Would you please at least _try_ to move? I'm about ready to just leave you here and be done with you."

"How... What..."

"Severus," he answered simply, making his sentiments about this whole ordeal known by emphatically rolling his eyes. "I have your wand."

"Oh?" Both of Hermione's eyes shot open, freshly alert. "_Hand it over!_" she exclaimed, her heart pounding excitedly at the notion of having her wand back in her possession once more. She felt entirely debilitated without it.

"Easy, Granger. Not until you can actually stand on your own two feet. Otherwise, you'll never make it out of here."

Hermione groaned as she was lifted further and attempted to stand, but her legs were wobbly, and she struggled for several more minutes to rise without issue. Finally, she grabbed onto the handle of a staircase for balance with one arm looped around Draco's neck, something she never thought would happen in a million years. Slowly, Draco propelled her forward.

"You're helping me?" Hermione asked in shock the further they rose, hardly able to believe that the Slytherin boy would do anything this kind for anyone, least of all her.

Draco purposely kept his eyes forward and wouldn't look at her. "Yes, I am," he answered dryly. "Not that I want to, but then, I don't really want to see you die here either."

"_Really?_"

Hermione couldn't stop herself from reacting. This wasn't the evil boy she had known for seven years. The Draco she knew wouldn't hesitate to see her or her friends get hurt. Why the sudden change of heart?

"Believe it or not, Granger, I _do_ have a moral center."

That seemed to answer her suspicions, and she felt slightly guilty, though still confused, as they continued to climb the stairs. "But... You're a Death Eater... Your family—"

"I had no choice!" he snapped, silencing her at once.

"Oh... I - I'm sorry..."

"No, you're not," he spat between clenched teeth, "so don't say anything."

"I - I _do_ mean it, Draco. I'm sorry..." She paused, staring at his angry profile, then whispered, "Thank you for helping me."

Draco startled and met her softened gaze, and his own countenance softened as well, albeit only by a fraction. "Don't mention it," he mumbled.

Hermione waited a moment before she couldn't suppress her questions anymore. "Where's Severus?"

"With the Dark Lord, my parents, and Aunt Bellatrix."

Hermione shuddered at the thought. How Severus could stomach being in their company was beyond her and made her pity him, even if he wouldn't want her to.

"Is he all right?"

Draco looked puzzled by that question. "Yeah, he's fine. Why?" When Hermione didn't answer, just appeared increasingly concerned, Draco added, "The Dark Lord doesn't suspect Severus of anything, Granger. You're both fine. For now."

Hermione wasn't sure what to make of _that_, but they had reached the top of the staircase by that point. Draco fumbled in his pockets for Hermione's wand and handed it to her, which she snatched up straightaway.

"How... How will I get out of here?"

"You can't Disapparate. My father has all sorts of preventative charms in place. Anyone else here can, but not you."

"How inconvenient," she grumbled before she could stop herself.

Draco, for once, ignored her commentary and moved on, shuffling them forward with his wand drawn, prepared for anyone they might come across. "I'm to get you outside. Severus wanted me to get you to the front gate, but the side door is as far as I'll go, Granger. I'm not willing to get caught, and certainly not for _you_."

"Of course not."

"Shut it, Granger, or you can see yourself out from here."

"Very well."

Hermione fell silent as the two of them peered around the corner towards an elegant staircase at the end of the hallway. Hermione recognized it from when she first entered the place. Off to the left was the only room Hermione had spent any time in during her stint here, and it was properly closed at the moment. She could hear some muffled noises coming from inside and could only assume Severus was in there as well. Her heart skipped a beat, but it was a folly to reflect on possibly seeing him now. She had to get out. She had to make an escape, or there would surely be no hope for her here, and nothing else Severus could do.

"Where is everybody?"

They had reached the staircase and Draco eased her down the steps, glancing all around them as they made their way to the first level. "Out looking for Potter."

"Oh..."

"I'm assuming you know where he is?"

Hermione's defenses immediately went up. The Slytherin may be helping her for the moment, but that didn't mean she trusted him worth a damn.

"No, I don't."

Draco snorted. "Yeah, right!"

"Why are you so curious?"

"Well... How are you going to get back to him?"

Hermione hadn't considered that, but then she hadn't really had time to focus on much of anything ahead of getting out of this hellhole in one piece. "Erm, I'm not sure."

"Well, in any case, Severus said to go to his..." He scrunched up his nose, giving a rather revolted look, as if he had tasted something disgusting. "His chambers at Hogwarts."

Hermione immediately blushed and kept her attention decidedly ahead. _Merlin, he doesn't suspect anything, does he? He can't! Bugger._

"I know, Granger."

Hermione jolted and blinked at Draco, staring at him with freshly alert eyes. She couldn't tell what the boy was thinking, only that his expression was somber and, surprisingly, without the sort of judgment she would have expected.

"_You - You do?_"

"Yes."

"H - How?"

There was an agonizingly long pause before Draco answered. "Dumbledore."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "_Dumbledore?_"

"Yeah, his portrait. He wanted to get Severus to go to you a few months ago; try and make things right. He and Dippet told me Severus needed an ally and someone to trust. They entrusted me not to tell anyone." Seeing the look of trepidation marring Hermione's face, he quickly added, "And I won't say anything. I suspected my godfather was on the right side, I just wasn't entirely sure until Dumbledore told me."

"He's your godfather?" That surprised Hermione and admittedly made Draco slightly more fascinating and less of an arrogant prat than before, though only a little.

"Yeah, he and my father went to school together. My parents were a few years older, but they were both in the same house, and Severus and my father became very good friends."

"I see... And you... You're on the right side? Your family?"

Draco gave her a hardened regard. "My mother and I are, yes."

Hermione closed her mouth at that point. At least, it was reassuring to know he might actually be doing something good. For once.

They had reached the bottom of the staircase, and Hermione found the atmosphere to be very quiet. Too quiet. The place appeared deserted, but Hermione suspected that would change once they exited the house.

"As for you two," Draco continued, allowing Hermione to lean on him, though much of her balance had returned, as they reared off to the left, "well, that was a surprise, to say the least."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, especially once she caught sight of the wicked smirk he now wore. "Well, you can keep your opinions to yourself, Draco!" she hissed rather loudly. "It's really none of your business!"

"Oh, believe me, I'm fine _not_ knowing any of the details!"

Hermione let that comment roll off her shoulders for the time being. She was surprised they hadn't run into anyone yet, and her worry was mounting as Draco led her through a vast, extravagant kitchen to a heavyset door.

As soon as it opened, Hermione's aching limbs were slapped with the unforgiving winter frost. There was fresh snow on the ground and a chilly, strong gust that made every hair of hers stand on end.

Hermione stepped out into the snow and unlooped her arm from around Draco's neck. "Wh - Where can I Disapparate from?" she stammered, fighting off the biting wind as she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.

"Just beyond the front gates. It's the only way out. There are a few Snatchers standing guard, so if you can get past them, you should be fine."

"Thanks a lot," she grumbled and started to stalk away into the hefty blankets of snow.

"Granger!" she heard him call out to her. She spun around, curious. "Keep Potter away from here, all right? I - I have a sneaking suspicion he intends to come 'round, and its best that he avoid this place. You know what I mean?"

Hermione was stunned to receive such a warning. It was one of many she had experienced in his company for only a number of minutes.

Just as Draco started to close the door, Hermione called back to him, "Draco!" He hesitated, his hand clutching the handle. "Tell Severus..." She wasn't sure what to say or what she wanted to say, really.

Draco snorted. "No way! You can deliver your love message yourself. Besides, he owes me for this."

"He took the Unbreakable Vow for you!" That stopped Draco in his tracks. He stared at his once Gryffindor enemy, his eyebrows tapered. "Just something to keep in mind, Draco..."

With that, Hermione trod off with her wand at the ready and without another glance back. She had to make her escape quickly. Any moment now, someone—probably the Dark Lord—would discover she was missing, and then things would really take a turn for the worse.

Hermione hadn't even considered what Draco's excuse would be once everyone learned she was gone, and a part of her felt guilt-stricken over that reality, but he _had_ helped her. He didn't have to, but he had risked doing so, nonetheless.

Hermione kept herself hidden behind a number of snow-covered trees in the yard as she made her way to the front gates, grateful that she had some sort of a barrier to keep her from being discovered right away. She quickly gathered that there were three Snatchers standing guard, though they hardly looked to be doing so at the moment. They were huddled together in a close circle, conversing with each other and snickering loudly.

At least _that_ was something in her favor as she darted behind the closest tree, peering out to contemplate her next move. Hermione shivered from the winter cold but willed herself forward out of the clearing. It was now or never, and there was no time to waste.

Just as she appeared from behind her hiding spot, however, the front doors to the manor flew open, and Voldemort charged out with Bellatrix and Severus at his heel. Draco was also with them, and in a panic, Hermione shot her wand at one of the Snatchers who suddenly spotted her and sent him flying back into the snow several feet away.

"_GRAB HER!_" Voldemort's eerie shout echoed above the stillness of the grounds. "Get the Mudblood! You fools!"

One of the other Snatchers started to utter an incantation, but Hermione was quicker. The second Snatcher was shot backwards whilst the third shot a spell at Hermione that she narrowly avoided. Several spells additionally shot at her from the opposite direction, from where the Dark Lord was approaching.

Hermione sent the third and final Snatcher catapulting backward and made a run for it through the front gates, taking one shot at the Dark Lord over her shoulder as she exited. He was trying to hex her, so she ran as fast as she could. Her limbs were still terribly stiff, however, and she only just missed a few green jets of light that shot at her from behind. She wasn't running nearly as fast as she would have if in her healthiest physical state.

_FASTER, HERMIONE!_ she yelled to herself. _GO!_

Hermione chanced one last look back at the manor and spotted Severus raising his wand, along with the others. She quickly darted off to the left to avoid being struck and focused her attention on Disapparating as quickly as possible.

"_STOP HER!_" she heard Voldemort cry just as her body began to whirl.

As Hermione finally started to escape her terrible plight, a burst of green light hit her square in the back, knocking the wind out of her. Hermione screamed against whatever it was that hit her, but somehow, using what little strength she had, kept the Disapparation going.

As she entered the familiar sanctuary of Severus's quarters, she collapsed on the spot. Not only had she been shot in the back, but she had splinched herself in the process of Disapparating.

She wanted to cry out in pain, beg for help even, but, instead, everything went black. All there was was an engulfing darkness. It overtook Hermione in one fell swoop, sending her spiraling into a void filled with nothing.

_Am I dead?_

* * *

**A/N #2: Many, many thanks to the talented severussempra (Halcrux) for a very lovely photoset from the last chapter. Link is on my Profile and well worth checking out..**


	39. Against the Odds

**A/N: This chapter is long with _a lot_ of talking, _a lot_ of explanations, and then some mysteries _meant_ to be left to the imagination. No "insufferable know-it-alls" were killed in the making of this chapter. I'm not clever enough to figure out how to bring Hermione back from the dead, so here we go!  
**

**__****Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 39: Against the Odds**

Hermione's back felt like it had been set aflame. Her hands clenched into fists and she let out a high-pitched cry of pain, her eyes watering at the severity of her injuries. She was completely disoriented and confused, and had no recollection of where she was or what was happening around her. All she could think about was the scorching sensation between her shoulder blades; it felt as if her very flesh were melting, leaving nothing but bone and disintegration.

"Be still," she heard a familiar deep voice order her sternly. She would recognize that voice anywhere, but she was in too much pain to be excited.

"No! It burns!" she half screamed, half whimpered. "Please stop!"

"Easy, Hermione. It'll pass in a moment. It's Dittany. You need it. As it is, you'll probably be left with a few scars."

"Ack! No! _HOT!_ Stop!"

"Easy, easy," he whispered close to her ear. "It's all right. It'll be over soon."

The pain shortly subsided thereafter, but Hermione quickly drifted out of consciousness again. It was hours later—or maybe it was a day, she had no idea—that she awoke. Her back no longer felt like it was on fire, but it still ached terribly. Her limbs themselves were considerably stiff when she attempted to move about, and immediately, her upper body was encased by a very warm, sturdy pair of arms. They were strong, safeguarding, and prevented her from stirring too much.

"Lie still," she heard the voice gently command of her, the sound of which was a remedy to her ears.

Hermione obeyed and snuggled closer, her cheek rubbing against a familiar fabric, and her hand clutched around several round clasps she recognized. Hermione's heart seemed to awaken once she smelled the fresh herbs, spices, and musk that accompanied all of these remembrances.

_Severus._

"Severus?" she groaned, barely able to say his name.

The embrace around her tightened, but in the wonderfully all-consuming kind of caress she wanted. "Yes," he purred near her face. "Go back to sleep, Hermione. You need more time to recoup."

"Wha... What happened?"

She felt a pair of warm lips touch her forehead and some nuzzling against the bridge of her nose. She leaned into his shoulder for more support.

"The Dark Lord hexed you in the back. You were already in the midst of Disapparating, or that incantation surely would have prevented your escape. You must have passed out instantly. You were unconscious when I was able to return here."

"How... How long have I been out?"

"About a day."

"My back..."

"I'm afraid I wasn't able to heal all the scars, sweetheart. I was prevented from coming to you right away, so by the time I got here, you had a nasty infection."

"I...don't...care..." she managed, still too tired to open her eyes, though her ears perked up when she heard him refer to her as 'sweetheart.'

_That's a new one._

Her lips curled into a faint smile. She felt Severus's chest heave against her cheek and instinctively rubbed at the coat some more.

"You took care of me?" she asked him very quietly.

There was a long pause, and then she felt another lovely kiss to her brow. "Yes. Of course."

"Thank...you..."

"You shouldn't be thanking me," he said with a low growl. "I got you into this mess."

"No..." Hermione grabbed onto a few of his buttons more tightly, keeping her eyes closed. "I did that myself."

"Yes, you did, but I should have gotten you out of there sooner."

"There's nothing you could have done, Severus. You said so yourself."

"_Still_."

Hermione was too spent to argue the matter, so she sighed instead and shifted her legs, feeling the wonderful sheets beneath her and the heavy comforter lying atop her. "I'm starving," she mumbled at the same time as her stomach growled, begging for nutrients, something she hadn't received in days.

"I figured you would be. Here."

Something brittle was pressed to her lips and she didn't hesitate to swallow whatever it was. Rye toast with butter and raspberry jam. Delicious. She opened her watering mouth, silently begging for more. Severus continued to feed her for some time, every so often pressing a cup of water to her mouth as well.

"Feel a little better now?" he asked once the partial meal had entered her system, bringing her immediate comfort.

"Yes. Thank you..."

"Go back to sleep."

There was more heated kissing to her forehead and exposed cheek. Hermione cuddled closer, burying her face in some sort of nook, probably between his arm or neck, she didn't know, and easily succumbed to sleep once more.

The next time she awoke, she felt much more relaxed, if not slightly discombobulated when she came to. The room was dark and quiet, the only light trickling into view from the fireplace on the opposite end of the room.

Hermione carefully shifted beneath the covers. Her limbs didn't ache nearly as much anymore, her head wasn't throbbing, and her back, though still uncomfortable, didn't burn like before. She could sense very rough patches of skin, however, as she turned over in bed, hoping she would find the only person she wanted to see lying beside her.

But then her heart sank. Severus wasn't in bed. In fact, he wasn't anywhere to be found. Inching onto her elbows with some difficulty, Hermione squinted in the darkness to read a clock on the mantel. Two thirty in the morning. She wasn't surprised that Severus might still be awake and working, but it still disheartened her to know.

Hermione collapsed onto her side and snuggled into the warmth of the bed again, her hand unconsciously gliding along the empty spot where Severus should have been, when, after several minutes, the door creaked open. Hermione's ears alerted her to the man's presence, and she tried to rise but was met with a pair of strong hands that gripped her shoulders and eased her back down onto the bed.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" came that snarl she loved.

"Sorry," she muttered, her eyes fluttering to take him in amidst the shadows. "I was waiting for you."

"I've been patrolling."

"And you're back?"

"No, not yet; just to check on you."

Hermione frowned, and her vision finally cleared to take in the man before her. Severus was staring down at her, his obsidian eyes laden with concern, decipherable even in such darkness. The bags beneath his eyes were as pronounced as ever, and the lines on his face looked sharper than usual.

Hermione suspected why that was. The man evidently hadn't slept in quite a while, probably since his return from Malfoy Manor when he discovered her unconscious on his floor, bleeding and blistering and unresponsive.

_Silly, wonderful man_, she reflected to herself as she reached up to cup his face in her hands.

"Please stay?"

Severus smirked and pecked her forehead again, and his kiss was soothing. His mouth lingered for a moment before he pulled away to gaze down at her.

"Later. I have to get back. If I'm found neglecting my duties by either one of the Carrows, there will be hell to pay. They're always up and about; therefore, I must be, too." Hermione stared up at him, puzzled and curious. Knowing everything that was probably racking her brain, Severus explained, "The Dark Lord is quite displeased with your escape. Luckily, he doesn't suspect Draco or me yet, but he's been taking his wrath out on everyone as a result, including us. He's very agitated, even despite possessing the Elder Wand."

"Yet?" she inquired, ignoring everything else.

Severus's raven irises shimmered in the darkness. "So far, he doesn't suspect me, as after getting your wand back from Bellatrix, I handed it off to Scabior for safekeeping, making sure that Bellatrix and the others saw me do so. When I later checked on him and the others keeping watch at the front gates, I made a point of taking it back, naturally without him knowing or suspecting it missing, so that I could give it to Draco."

"Draco..." Hermione regarded the boy with more care than before, her eyes widening with worry.

"He was frightened," Severus continued, "but I assured him as long as he didn't use magic, and as long as the Dark Lord was distracted with other matters, he'd be all right. He waited for the right opportunity, but he was mostly on his own. I had to trust him to know when to make his move."

"Well, he did a good job," Hermione insisted. "Is - Is he all right?"

"Yes... I had instructed him to wait until you were out of the front gate before announcing to the Dark Lord that you had escaped, but I guess the boy panicked. He's always skittish and fearful now, not that I blame him. He disrupted our meeting sooner than he was supposed to." Severus sneered with displeasure, his dark pupils constricting. "Idiot boy."

"Severus, you can't expect him not to have reacted. He _did_ get me out."

"Still!" Severus caustically snarled. "He could have waited until the Snatchers were overrun, at the very least!"

"Is - Is he safe, too?"

"He is, yes. Scabior's been ruthlessly reprimanded. He's paying severely for losing your wand, though the Dark Lord is still stumped as to how you got it. He suspects it might have been one of the other Snatchers, but Scabior isn't out of harm's way yet. The Dark Lord hasn't determined how to deal with him. If I didn't completely despise the swine already, I might carry some guilt for setting him up, but I don't. Not in the least."

There was a long pause, their eyes never leaving each other's. Partly to keep her nerves at bay, Hermione inquired quietly after a moment, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me." His answer was too hasty for Hermione, but there was no time to protest or ask him again to remain. He bent low to kiss her cheek before swiftly moving away from the bed. "Go to sleep, Hermione. I'll be back later."

With that, he stalked out of the room and heightened his protective enchantments. His heavy boots echoed for a time, drifting further and further away from her, much to her disappointment. It was a little matter, however, for she quickly fell back to sleep and awoke at some point in the early morning.

As her eyes adjusted, she took in the sight of Severus's lean form lying beside her in bed, still fully clothed and facing her. He didn't look nearly as refreshed as she, herself, felt, which turned her smile of greeting upside down.

"Good morning," he offered, his voice sounding incredibly worn and tired.

"You haven't slept at all, have you?"

"Of course not," he grumbled, ignoring her concern. "You received a serious hex to your back—you're lucky it wasn't your head, mind you—were splinched while Disapparating, held in captivity for several days without food or water, and were cursed by the Dark Lord three separate times. What do you expect me to do, sleep on it?"

Hermione cracked a small smile and inched closer to take possession of one his hands, planting a few tender kisses upon it as he looked on, fascinated, as he always was, by her attention. "You've done more than enough for me, Severus," she reassured him in a soft whisper. "Thank you. I'm fine now and am feeling a lot better. You should rest."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's morning."

"What time is it?"

"Seven thirty."

Hermione's awakening mind alerted to her friends. "Has anything happened? Is Harry—"

"He's fine, as far as I know. He and Weasley haven't been caught."

Hermione was more than a little relieved to receive that bit of news. She had no idea what her friends were up to, and then the realization hit her like a ton of bricks: she had been missing for days. What must the boys be thinking? Were they looking for her? Had they diverted from their mission finding Horcruxes to search for her instead?

_Merlin, I hope not!_

Unable to stop himself from reading her mind, though her expression was easy enough to decipher, Severus interrupted her thoughts. "I can help you locate them."

"You can?"

"Yes." He paused. "They stole the cup from Bellatrix's vault."

"_What?_" The reminder of Bellatrix's threat whilst being held hostage came back to Hermione in a flash; she hadn't a clue what the woman was talking about at the time and simply told her she didn't have it. "_The Horcrux?_"

"Yes."

The conversations she and Severus had had in the past slowly seeped back into her mind. "Right... From, wait... _Gringotts?_"

"Indeed." Hermione's mouth fell open. How the heck had her friends managed to break into Gringotts? "She only realized it was missing recently and figured it was all of you."

Hermione shifted her head, giving Severus's face closer inspection. "Just a minute..." Detecting the very faint glimpse of a smile at the edges of Severus's mouth, her eyes widened in shock. "_You?_ You stole the cup! When? _How?_"

"Easy, lioness. One question at a time."

Hermione drew up onto one elbow, ignoring the soreness of her back. "Severus... How on earth did you do that?"

"About a week ago. I finally decided to give a tip off to Bellatrix for the personal satisfaction of seeing her squirm. I told you about the cup before; how I knew it was in her possession. It wasn't easy. Goblins are remarkably clever creatures, but, well, I managed with a minor hiccup or two..."

"Wh - When did this happen?"

"Right after I... I left you."

Hermione's stomach knotted at seeing the flicker of pain on Severus's face. She decided to ignore him and push for more answers.

"Where is it now?"

"My office, and I'd like you to take it with you when you return to Potter and Weasley."

"_Me?_"

"Of course," he laughed quietly. "It will make for a good excuse for your absence, won't it?"

Hermione's face softened. How had he figured all of this out, and all by himself without any help?

_Not even from... Me_, she reflected with tremendous guilt.

Hermione took a moment to thoroughly examine the wizard lying next to her. He was slouched with his knees propped up and clearly struggling to stay awake. His eyes—bloodshot and heavy—continuously fluttered, fighting off what he had prevented his body from having for days. And, she reflected with further remorse, all on her account.

That conscience-stricken feeling only grew worse when Severus said, in a very soft tone, "You scared the hell out of me. When I saw you get hit with that hex, I thought you might be..."

When he didn't complete his sentence, only closed his mouth, Hermione leaned in to kiss him; she had missed his taste, the warmth of his supple lips mixed with hers, and welcomed the feeling back like a comforting form of security.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized once their lips parted.

"As am I..."

"Don't be, Severus. This wasn't your fault. I chose to follow you. I made the decision to go after you, knowing the consequences. Please try to understand—"

"You don't have to explain." Severus let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes. "I should have anticipated it. I wasn't thoroughly prepared for this, and I _should_ have been. I should have protected you. I should have told you sooner. I should have done a lot of things differently. I..."

Hermione shushed him by putting her hand to his mouth. She inclined her head to sweep her lips over the bridge of his nose and detected a faint shudder that her small bout of affection provided.

"We were both pretty foolish, you have to admit."

She was relieved to hear him chuckle, even if it was brief. "Indeed." He opened his eyes and stroked the side of her face. "We make quite the simpleminded pair."

"Yes, _very_ simpleminded."

Hermione giggled readily and coveted his lips again, weaving her arm around his back from underneath the covers to press him into her. Once they ceased, she barely pulled away from their embrace, instead keeping her face comfortably close to his.

"I'm sorry..."

"Now what for?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Severus, however, only frowned in return. "For hexing you."

Remembering that dark Stinging Hex from days ago, Hermione shook her head, pained by the shame that marred Severus's weary face. "Oh, Severus, _don't_. It's quite all right—"

"How on earth is that 'all right'?" he snarled, frustrated with her refusal to get angry with him.

"Severus, I told you to. And anyway, you didn't have a choice in the matter."

"There's _always_ the ability to choose, Hermione. I... I managed to clean up the scar it left with some Dittany, but it might still be sore for—"

"Enough." Hermione closed the matter by kissing him again. When she pulled back, she gave him a look of austerity. "You should rest, Severus." Severus growled and started to retort, but she cut him off. "Just for a few hours. I can wake you if you want?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine."

"You've done enough watching over me. I'm fine now. Try to sleep."

"I have things to do, you know..."

Hermione reached up and brushed her hands through his hair. Severus's eyes immediately fluttered and closed, overcome with exhaustion.

"I'm sure you do," Hermione said with a small smile, "but they can wait."

"_Not long_."

"I'll wake you, I promise."

Severus mumbled something inaudible and then tried to speak to her through a yawn. "There's breakfast I summoned for you. It's on my desk. It's cold now, so you'll have to reheat it."

"I will." Hermione continued running her fingers over his scalp, enjoying the texture between her fingers. "I can take care of that. Don't worry about me."

"You can't go anywhere, Hermione..."

"Nor do I intend to."

"Yes, well, it would be just like you to wander off," Severus reminded her sleepily.

Hermione tittered agreeably. "You have me pegged."

"After seven years, I ought to..."

"Whatever. Get some rest, love."

Leaning in for one more kiss, Hermione reluctantly eased herself out of the warm confinements of Severus's bed, wincing a bit at the tenderness in her back. Her shoulder felt relatively fine and she couldn't detect any lingering scars from the hex, which brought her some relief. She reached down towards the edge of the bed to remove Severus's boots. He stirred, still awake, though only just, and didn't protest as she started carefully undressing him. She worked on removing his coat next, unclasping the buttons one by one at his wrists and then the ones that flowed down his chest. She couldn't help but smile wryly as she did so.

_Merlin, I've been wanting to do this..._

Hermione wasn't aware that Severus had reopened his eyes and, though fighting hard to watch her attentiveness, was humored by her expression. "You're a strange one," he mumbled, causing her to startle.

"Damn it!" she cursed, catching her breath. "Quit doing that! I told you to go to sleep!"

"I am. And you don't need to do this. I sleep in my clothes all the time."

"Well, you shouldn't, and stop talking to me. Rest, would you?"

"It's kind of hard with your hands all over me..."

_That_ made Hermione blush and her smile broaden. "Sneaky git," she teased, stifling a fit of giggles.

Severus smirked then aided her in removing his coat. Hermione fiddled with his cravat for some time before managing to take it off, and only with Severus's assistance.

_That's something I'll still have to work on_, she mused for herself alone.

"Here, Severus, get underneath the covers. You'll be a lot warmer."

Severus lazily climbed into bed at her request and settled in against his pillow. His face was more relaxed than she had seen in days, and he willingly closed his eyes.

"Thank you," he murmured through another deep yawn.

Hermione leaned down to nuzzle his cheek with her nose, ignoring the pains in her back. "Sleep well, love. I'll wake you in a little while."

As she kissed the side of his face, she thought she heard him say something else to her, but had no idea what that was. Within a minute or two, Severus was fast asleep and snoring rather noisily, which she found both comical and endearing. Under lighter circumstances, Hermione would have easily laughed out loud at such an amusing sight, but she was still too rattled over what she had been through to be too lighthearted yet.

Hermione hesitated, watching Severus slumber for another minute or two before scooting out of bed at last to consume the platter of food on Severus's desk. After downing the reheated breakfast, she decided that what she could really use was a nice, steaming shower. Severus was still sleeping soundly for the time being, so Hermione didn't waste any time. She disappeared into his loo and shut the door.

As her eyesight met his mirror, she couldn't help but stare with dismay. She looked a horrid mess. Her mane was entirely frizzy and wilder than ever, for one. To her mind, it was quite unsightly. How Severus was able to look at her without cracking up laughing was beyond her comprehension. There were bags under her eyes, too, despite all the sleep she had managed, and then there was the issue of her back. She slowly turned around to check out the damage and was shocked at the number of gashes, now patched up blisters that drew across her shoulder blades. The skin was rough in places, reddened, and tender to the touch.

"Lovely," she grumbled, remembering then the countless deep cuts on her lover's back. That seemed to strengthen her resolve about her own wounds.

_Don't complain, Hermione. It could have been much, much worse..._

Hermione willingly turned away from the mirror and climbed into the shower, feeling instant remedy from the hot steam and gouging water that lapped her skin. She couldn't even recall the last time she had had a real shower. Months spent on the run camping and hiding out in the woods in the dead of winter with two young men had left her little choice when it came to bathing options. Cleansing charms could only do so much, in her opinion, and didn't feel nearly as refreshing as a proper shower did.

Time seemed to trickle away as she stood in there, naked and exposed, bathing in the warmth of the hot water. She must have spent the good part of an hour just standing still, thinking about what she had been through repeatedly, and undoubtedly what she had put Severus through as well.

Despite the fact that her skin was starting to wrinkle, Hermione didn't necessarily want to move out of her lovely, heated sanctuary. She was so comfortable and could have stood there forever, but finally willed herself to get a move on.

Hermione emerged from the Headmaster's loo with fresh towels wrapped around her damp hair and body. She quickly cast more heat into the fireplace with her wand and glanced over at the bed.

Severus had rolled over onto his back but was still snoring, dead to the world and to her. Hermione concluded when she got out of the shower that she should probably wake him, but surveying him now, she no longer had the heart to. She chuckled softly and worked on getting dressed instead, taking her time to cleanse the clothes she had been stuck in for days while in captivity.

Perhaps she was trying to simply preoccupy her mind from the horrors she had encountered recently, but either way, Hermione pushed to not think on them. When she was through with her clothes, she pulled her wet hair back and crawled into bed beside her slumbering insomniac again, watching intently as he slept, just as, she suspected, he had done the past few days. Surprisingly, he didn't wake, confirming that he really _had_ stayed awake for far too long. Hermione couldn't help but shake her head. She stayed put for about an hour and a half, all the while trying to coax herself to wake him up. It was a welcoming distraction for her mind, at the very least. By now, he would surely be cross with her, as it was nearly eleven o'clock.

_Harry and Ron_, her conscience reminded her all of a sudden, and Hermione quickly sat up in bed to send off a quiet Patronus message to Harry in the hopes that she would receive word back shortly. She could only pray that her friends were all right and not in any trouble. She suspected she would probably receive a scolding from both boys when she got the reply that she was waiting on.

After several minutes, however, nothing came back to her. Wanting to fight off her ever growing anxieties, Hermione resolved herself to finally wake Severus up. She bent over him and gently prodded his shoulder.

"Severus?" His snoring pattern altered but didn't stop. "Severus, wake up. C'mon, love, wake up."

As Severus hitched a sharp breath and came to, he instantly reached for his wand on his nightstand. Hermione braced herself for such a reaction, now fully aware of what to expect when awaking the paranoid spy, only this time he recognized her much faster than before and didn't even have her pinned down before perceiving who she was. He fell back onto his pillow and collapsed his arm like a dead weight, letting out a tired moan.

"Sorry," she whispered, her hand lovingly stroking his cheek as she leaned down to kiss him awake. "You were out cold. I really didn't want to wake you, but since you insisted upon it, I felt obligated. Insubordinate arse."

"Yeah, I know," he grumbled, stretching against her but not quite ready to move out of bed yet.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?"

She hoped he would say yes, but, instead, Severus shook his head and stifled a yawn. "No, I can't."

"Are you sure? You don't look that well rested, Severus. You didn't sleep very long."

"I'll be fine. I've gone on far less sleep than this."

Hermione willed herself not to fuss. "I hogged your shower for about an hour."

"Mmm." His nostrils flared. With his eyes still closed, a wry grin emerged on his relaxed countenance. "You smell fantastic..."

Hermione snorted. "I smell like _you_."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"I suppose..."

"That's insulting. I don't think I smell that atrocious, do I?"

Hermione answered by smothering him with a few more kisses. A sly smile trailed against her mouth, which he matched. She was just about to say something when a mist of silver pounced into the room. Severus immediately directed his wand at the object, and Hermione almost gasped, until she recognized what it was: Harry's stag.

"_'MIONE!_" he issued with obvious surprise and relief. "_WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?_ Where have you been? Ron and I have been worried sick! Are you all right? Did something happen? Why would you just up and disappear like that? _GET BACK TO ME!_"

The stag bounced around for a few seconds then disappeared through the wall. Hermione blinked hard, trying to recoup from the disruption. Severus groaned irritably beside her, which brought her attention back to him. He was rubbing his bloodshot eyes and wearing his trademark, unhappy sneer.

"Bloody Potter! I do _not_ need to receive_ his_ Patronus, nor any part of him, in my own bedchambers, Hermione! Ever! Particularly after I've just woken up!"

Hermione, however, couldn't help but giggle. "Well, where else am I going to communicate with him for the moment? The Great Hall, perhaps?"

Severus turned his head and narrowed his eyes. "Do so while I'm in the shower, at the very least. The less I have to hear of or from him, the better."

Hermione rolled her eyes with a warm smile that spread across her cheeks. "How about a muffling charm?"

"Already planning on it," he growled. He threw back the covers, suppressing another yawn, and gingerly rose out of bed to proceed to the loo, keeping his wand in hand.

"Are you sure? This could be a conversation you don't want to miss!" she baited, to which Severus lingered in the open doorway.

"Unless you're planning to blow my cover, tell me later about the elaborate lie you've given to explain your absence."

"Will do."

"Don't think about it too hard. It's Potter and Weasley. They're easily gullible and will believe pretty much anything you feed them, including the cup."

"Stop insulting my friends and take a shower, would you?"

Severus growled, only it sounded rather pleasant to her ears, and shut the door. The sound of the cascading shower started and Hermione quickly cast her Patronus again.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I thought I had a lead on one of the Horcruxes, so I decided to do a little research on my own instead of waking you both. I didn't expect to be gone as long as I have been, and I would have sent my Patronus along, only I was kind of afraid to do so once nightfall rolled around. And then I got kind of confused as to how to get back to you guys. Where are you anyhow?"

Hermione hoped that would suffice, at least for the time being. She hated lying but was surprised at how good she seemed to be covering her tracks. Still, knowing she wasn't being forthright with her closest friends felt pretty horrible. She suspected there would be a lot more questions once she returned to them, wherever they were, especially with a Horcrux in her possession.

_Returned._ Hermione groaned out loud about that hard-hitting reality. She would, in fact, have to leave soon—very soon—and abandon both the sanctuary of Hogwarts, even if that term could only be applied to the confinements of Severus's quarters, as well as the wizard himself. She really didn't want to be separated again, especially when the future looked so bleak and uncertain, and not particularly after what she had just gone through.

Hermione laced her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, staying underneath the covers to keep warm. She waited patiently for a return reply from Harry, hoping it wouldn't be as frantic or loud as the last. The stag soon reappeared and waltzed to the bed where she sat.

"'Mione, that's not like you to just take off without telling us. Ron was furious and I thought you might have been taken by Snatchers!"

_If you only knew how right you are, Harry..._

"I didn't want to leave, but Ron was insistent, fearing that if we stayed we'd get caught, too. And we didn't want to risk sending our Patronuses to you in case you'd been caught. Messages are being intercepted far too often now. I kind of had to agree with Ron on both points, but we've had every intention of looking for you, we just didn't know where to start."

_Figures._ She snorted, though without taking any personal issue.

"We're still where we were before," Harry answered, trying to be cryptic, "we didn't want to leave without you. But we had to move elsewhere where we're at, so we walked for the good part of a day. We ran into some Snatchers the other night, but we had the protective charms in place. Odd to find them in this area again, wouldn't you say?"

_No, not really. They're on the hunt looking for you, Harry..._

"Anyway, get back here, all right? Ron really wants to talk to you, and I've been going insane."

The stag evaporated into the wall again, leaving Hermione to ponder over her next reply. She wasn't ready to leave just yet. Not at least until she had had a few proper minutes to discuss some things with Severus, so she conjured her Patronus and sent along another delicate message.

"I'll be there as soon as I can, Harry. I - I'm really sorry to have worried you guys. I honestly didn't mean to, and I know it was untoward of me to just go without any notice, but sometimes when I get something in my head, I just need to go with it and follow through. I won't do it again, I promise. Just give me a little more time where I'm at and I'll be back later today. I... I have something you'll both be excited about. Then you and Ron can grill me all you want."

Hermione sighed wearily as her otter disappeared to deliver her message. She sat for a while staring across the room at the roaring fireplace, the flames dancing and licking the hearth, as well as listening to the soothing sound of the shower echoing from the loo. She easily got lost amongst the sleep-inducing sounds and sights around her, and, before she knew it, Severus reemerged.

His black hair was wet and his wrinkled undershirt and trousers had been cleaned and pressed. He crossed the room in just a few strides and threw his coat on, which had been placed over the bed frame whilst he slept.

"Feeling better?" she offered, her smile returning.

"Yes. Only you woke me much later than I would have liked."

"Merlin, it's always_ something_ with you, isn't it?"

Severus snorted, his audible complaint not at all matching his dark eyes. Hermione watched with fascination as he swiftly buttoned the clasps that ran along his wrists. It was far too fast to have done with one hand, but somehow he managed it as if it were no obstacle at all. As his long fingers reached down to begin buttoning up the front of his coat, Hermione inched forward, calling for him to stop. He eyed her curiously as she crawled across the bed to him and pried his hands away.

"I'd like to do that."

Severus arched an eyebrow as she reached down to begin fastening the countless buttons into place one by one, her eyes focused on each one intently, without any regard to her lover's blatant stare. "You really _are_ a strange one," he murmured with a peculiar wonder and amusement.

It made Hermione's eyes flutter as she halted what she was doing. "Well, I rather like these buttons." She blushed profusely.

Severus's eyes flickered, but then resumed their usual colorless hue. "I can tell."

Hermione simply continued the act and pressed out the fabric at his shoulders. "There." She leaned in and surprised him with several affectionate pecks to his exposed neck. "Now you just need one more piece to the puzzle..."

Severus eyed her with heightened intrigue and casually placed his cravat in her hand. "Care to try?" he encouraged, a challenge he knew the young witch couldn't refuse.

Hermione ended up needing his assistance in fastening it properly, and Severus guided her fingers along with his own, instructing her how it was done in that deep purr of his that drove her mad. When they were through, Hermione drew up onto her knees to be eye level with him and kissed him again, getting lost in the texture and pattern of his mouth for a time before he hesitantly drew back.

"I suppose Potter is still asking for you."

He sounded sour about that, which Hermione found both heartening and humorous. "Yes," she sighed, "unfortunately. I _have_ been missing for a couple of days now. They're both rather insistent upon me returning, and rightfully so."

Severus sneered. "Figures."

After a long pause in which Hermione simply stared at him with her arms looped around his neck, she inched closer. "Severus?"

"Yes?"

"What is it between you and Harry?"

Severus's eyes sharpened. "What?"

"You and Harry," she repeated patiently. "Why do you dislike him so? I know you said you don't hate him, but... It certainly comes across that way."

Severus leaned into the bed, and to her, enfolding his arms around her back. "It's complicated."

"You said that before." Hermione ran her hands through the back of his head, feeling the texture of his freshly cleansed tresses, still damp, that weaved in between her fingers. "Enlighten me."

"Well, it's like you said yourself: he's virtually a reincarnation of James Potter. His father was a swine—a real arrogant arse—and a relentless bully. I don't see your friend as very different from him. He seems to relish his fame, quite frankly, and tends to share many of his father's qualities, not just his appearance. And he's the offspring of the woman I love—"

He paused, seeing Hermione's intensified flash of a response, as well as an awareness of his own mistake. This change would take some getting used to.

"_Loved_," he corrected himself with a delicate smirk that seemed to reassure the witch in his arms. "Lily married the man who tormented me—who taunted her once supposed 'best friend.' She routinely complained about him, then wound up falling in love with the bloke; seemed like a pretty low blow to me at the time."

Hermione sighed and bit her lower lip. "Would it have helped if Harry looked more like Lily? Would you then still carry this resentment around?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "I'm not resentful."

With some reluctance, Hermione shook her head. "Yes, you are, Severus. I've told you, Harry isn't all the arrogant prick you take him for. I should know. In all fairness, I know him far better than you. He doesn't seem much like his father in most respects; at least, from the way you've described James. Harry's actually quite kind and gentle and... And a decent person at heart."

"That may be so, Hermione, but—"

"You've hated on him since day one, Severus. Where was the justification in that? I mean, I know you don't necessarily _like_ teaching children—that's pretty apparent to all—and you're relatively unpleasant towards everyone, for that matter, but with Harry, it's something on a much higher plane.

"I know he's not perfect, I'll give you that. There have been times over the years that I've rolled my eyes or shook my head at things he's said or done. He can be prickly and certainly testy with _you_, but then, he hasn't exactly done anything extreme—from _my_ perspective—to warrant how you've treated him, Severus."

"His academic behavior in my classroom has been both lazy and inappropriate, Hermione," Severus retorted, curling his upper lip defiantly. "You have no idea the stress that that boy has put me under—"

"Wait," Hermione implored, her voice softer and slightly more desperate. "Listen, I care about you both. You're the two most important people in my life. I know it's silly to talk about the future, and I'm sure you'll want to laugh at me for this, but I'd really like to see you two reach an understanding." She paused before adding, "Perhaps when this war is over..."

Severus, indeed, did his best not to go sarcastic on her. "That's a noble thought, my dear, but highly unlikely."

Hermione caved her shoulders. "Severus, please?" Her gentle plea seemed to make Severus's expression soften, if only a little. "I never want to be forced into choosing between my best friend, who I've known virtually all my life, or the wrongfully accused man I've fallen in love with. I love you both, and as much as you may despise one another, I think it's time to move past these silly playground shenanigans and behave more appropriately, wouldn't you agree?"

"Don't, Hermione," Severus snarled, though it wasn't in the hostile manner it used to be, something Hermione was quite content to see changing in him. "There's a long history here that can't be patched up that easily. He may not be entirely his father, but he can be exceedingly disrespectful, immature, and boisterous. I've seen so myself. And you cannot force me into liking anyone."

"That's not what I'm trying to do, Severus. You don't ever have to like Harry. I'd just like to see you both come to an understanding is all."

Severus let out a prolonged sigh. "I don't see that happening, Hermione. Forgive me, but I don't."

Hermione's frown deepened. "Listen, in my opinion, you're quite justified in your feelings towards James. He sounds like a brash prick, but why should Harry continue to pay for his father's shortcomings? Shouldn't he be given a chance, Severus? The benefit of the doubt?"

Severus didn't say anything for a stifling long period of time to Hermione. She half worried that he was going to recoil, snap at her, or simply stomp off, but he didn't do any of those charades that he once would have when confronted with an issue he didn't want to address. Instead, his own shoulders fell in defeat, and his face grew somber and rather sad as he peered into her eyes.

"Do you think me a horrible person, Hermione?"

It wasn't the response Hermione had expected, and her eyes widened before resuming their normal shape. "No, of course not, Severus. I - I'd just like to see you two reach some level of acceptance of one another. That's it. I wouldn't have the right to expect anything more.

"I care about you, and I don't like hearing either one of you speak badly of the other. It puts me in a very uncomfortable position. Can you understand that?"

"Yes, of course." His scowl hardened. "Though I don't think we'll ever reach an understanding after Albus, Hermione. Surely, you can understand how Potter will _never_ see fit to forgive me for that? He won't understand."

"How do you know?" She had to admit having her own misgivings, and felt some truth to Severus's predictions in he and Harry's case, but still secretly hoped she was wrong.

"Because Albus was as close to a father figure for Potter as it gets," Severus replied with a gentleness he had never displayed before in speaking about the boy; it took Hermione aback to hear him, for once, not speaking abrasively about her best friend. "He'd never understand that Albus asked me to kill him, that it was_ his_ decision and not mine. He won't be able to get past that reality because of his long-standing hatred towards me, most of which, I'll admit, has been my own doing. I'll remain beyond forgiveness or reproach for the crime of robbing him of one of the few father figures he had."

"You really don't know him very well, in that case," Hermione found herself chuckling. The infamous crease of confusion formed between Severus eyebrows again. "Harry's a surprisingly forgiving sort of person, Severus, considering everything he's been through. I'll admit, he holds _a lot_ of built up resentment towards you—mostly because he doesn't understand why you dislike him so much—but he just might be more conciliatory toward that revelation than you think."

_Merlin, I hope so..._

Severus shrugged off the matter. "I guess we'll see, in that case."

Hermione scrunched up her nose, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Do you still have the phial I gave you? The one I asked you to give to Harry?"

"Oh!"

Hermione thought frantically. She hadn't given that any thought and couldn't even recall at the moment when she had last had it in her possession, nor what she had done with it. Her panic was a dead giveaway.

"Hermione," Severus inquired with caution, "you do still have it, don't you?"

"I, erm, yes. I... I think so."

"You _think_ so?"

"Well, after you said goodbye to me rather abruptly, my mind was preoccupied for a while. Then I decided to visit you at the spur of the moment and..."

_Bugger. Ron and Harry left that location. I'd assume they took my belongings with them?_

"I think I left it in my bag, back with Harry and Ron. I would imagine when they moved they took my things, too."

"You _are_ careless," Severus issued with a sigh, but not sounding at all angered over the matter.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Severus looked away momentarily, his obsidian eyes glazing over. "Frankly, I don't give a damn."

Hermione waited before asking, her curiosity getting the better of her, "So what does the phial contain? The revelation about Dumbledore?"

"Yes. And other matters..."

"Oh?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione. Sometime I'll relay it all to you. For now, there are things Potter shouldn't know until the time is right. And, frankly, you shouldn't know until that time either."

"Why not?"

Severus wrapped his arms more securely around her back and pressed her into him. "Because you'll only worry and obsess over it, and that's unnecessary. War makes certain matters unavoidable, and they're things you wouldn't be able to change."

Hermione felt her body stiffen. "Severus, what do you mean?"

Severus grunted and abruptly shifted his eyes. "No matter. Anyway, I need to get going, and you should probably return to your friends. I believe you have some explaining to do."

Hermione couldn't help but pout. She collapsed her forehead against his with a sad, drawn out sigh. "Yes, I know... When will I see you?"

"I don't know, but probably not for a while. Keep researching, keep searching for the Horcruxes, and, most importantly, stay out of trouble."

"He has the Elder Wand, Severus..."

"I know."

"What will Harry do now?"

_Pray that he doesn't die before I get to him first, to tell him what he needs to know._

Severus delicately shook his head. "I don't know, but things are stirring. The end of this mess is drawing closer, so you had best speed up your search."

"I know. I - I feel it, too..." She hugged Severus more tightly around the neck to shake off her reservations. "He's going to return to Hogwarts, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"I figured it might all end here. Ironically appropriate, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed. He likes dramatic entrances."

Hermione shuddered at the thought of the evil man, whom she had encountered face to face only days ago. "What was he going to do to me, Severus?" she asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer.

Severus's shoulders tensed, but he kept his focus on her. "I think you already know..."

Hermione tried not to bite her lip. "How... How _exactly_ would he have done it?"

"That isn't at all worth repeating," he issued patiently, leaning in to peck her nose. "Don't think about it. It's not worth it."

"Oh..."

"Are you all right?" he pressed, concerned.

"I'm not sure."

Severus eased her into a full hug, and Hermione readily latched onto him with a sigh. "Such a psychopath," she murmured, unable to suppress her anxiety. "Please be careful, Severus. I've hated knowing what you have to do for him, but seeing him in the flesh like that..." She inadvertently shivered all over again at the thought of the sinful man's touch, and Severus reacted by pressing her back. "I don't know how you withstand it," she added so low it would have been inaudible to anyone else in the room.

Severus reared back and offered her a half-cocked smile that she knew was meant to be reassuring. "Trust me, neither do I."

* * *

It was a lot harder to dissuade and weave her way around Harry's and Ron's questions than she was used to. They were highly suspicious of her rationale for leaving them, where she had been, what she was up to, and the like, and Hermione felt increasingly flustered and uncomfortable with so much deceit. Once the truth came out—_if it ever came out_—she suspected that her closest friends might truly despise her, perhaps even never forgive her...

There was also the fact that she held the Hufflepuff Cup in her possession—a fragment of Voldemort's soul—and word had spread to the radio by the time she got back about a break in at Gringotts. Harry and Ron were appropriately doubtful and questioned her relentlessly about the cup and how she had managed it on her own.

"More to the point, _why_ didn't you just wait and let us all go together? That was suicide, 'Mione!"

"Erm..."

_Bloody good point, Harry._

"I... I guess I thought I could handle it. It's your safety that's most important, Harry. I thought it too great a risk, for your sake. If you got caught, it would all be over."

"But... But, 'Mione," Ron piped up, looking absolutely baffled, "why didn't you at the very least ask _me_ to go with you? You shouldn't have gone alone! Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?"

"I know, I just... Sorry, it was incredibly foolish of me, I know. I'm lucky to be alive. But it's over now, all right? We have another Horcrux. We have another part of his soul."

"Now only a gazillion more to go," Ron grumbled, and the three nodded in unison.

After a few rough days in which lots of hounding and questioning continued, things went back to normal, or as normal as could be expected, given the circumstances. Things were heavily awkward between Hermione and Ron, which was nothing new, and Hermione eased around that difficulty by relaying to them about the Elder Wand, how she "had heard through others in passing that he now possessed it," and that she had a "sneaking suspicion he would be returning to the school soon."

"The lost diadem," Harry offered up outside the tent one morning. "It's probably, as you suspected: at the school. I keep seeing visions of it, too. That's probably why he wants to return. Maybe to safeguard it or make sure it's still there."

Hermione blushed. "_I_ didn't suspect that it might be at Hogwarts, Harry. Sev—Snape did, remember?"

_That was close..._

Harry's green eyes seemed to darken before her eyes at the mere mention of his name. "Oh, well, in_ that_ case..."

"Harry, I actually agree with his theory. I think it _is_ there."

"_What?_" Ron barked, staring at her madly. "'Mione, he probably just said that to satisfy your curiosity. He was probably leading you on the whole time about _all_ the Horcruxes."

"Ron—"

"That's exactly what Snape wants Harry to do, you do realize that, don't you? Snape _wants_ Harry to return to the school, just so he can inform that bloody deranged lunatic that Harry's back, and then all hell will break loose!"

"That may be so," Hermione tried to stay neutral, even though her blood was boiling; they were so wrong about Severus, and it was getting old and harder to withstand. "But don't you think the Dark Lord is already highly suspicious of Harry returning to Hogwarts anyhow? Even if not to search for a Horcrux, I'm sure he's already suspected that Harry might return at some point."

"Even so," Harry spoke up, his jaw clenched, "I'm sure Snape wouldn't do us any favors. The minute I set foot into that school, I'll be putting everyone at risk."

"Harry, that's inevitable," Hermione whispered, trying to be sensitive to his feelings. "We all know the risk. This is much bigger than you. Everyone knows and accepts that."

Harry didn't say anything, only stared into the logs of burning wood. Ron piped up, "Well, Harry shouldn't go. It's too risky, and in any case, Snape would know it, and make it hell for us to do much of anything."

"I... I'm not so sure about that either."

Both boys eyed her questioningly, and Ron's cheeks reddened. "He's the Headmaster, 'Mione. He'd smell us coming miles away. And he's a Death Eater, at that, the Dark Lord's most trusted supporter, and the evil bloke who murdered Dumbledore! What_ exactly_ aren't you sure of? Do you even remember who the guy is?"

"Of course I do!" Hermione slammed down the book in her hand. It fell into a pile of wet snow, something the old Hermione never would have allowed, but she no longer cared. "That doesn't mean everything he said to me was a fabrication, Ron! If there's a Horcrux there, we'll have to find it one way or another, whether Snape's Headmaster or not!"

There was not much further talk after that, only about the Deathly Hallows symbol, how Harry had remembered seeing Luna's father wearing the symbol around his neck at Bill and Fleur's wedding, and that perhaps they might pay Mr. Lovegood a visit to probe for more information.

It wasn't until Hermione was in the midst of changing her garments inside the tent the following evening that Ron wandered in unexpectedly. Unaware that he had even approached, Ron halted in his tracks and stared at the ghastly markings on her back.

"_'Mione!_" he blurted out, causing her to whip her head around with an involuntary gasp. She threw the shirt was she holding up in front of her, shocked. "Where the hell did you get those scars?"

"_Ron!_" she breathed, infuriated. "What the... You could have turned around and gone outside 'till I was done!"

Ron went scarlet in the face. "Sorry, I - I didn't know... But all the same, where the hell did you get those markings, 'Mione? What happened?"

"It's - It's nothing," she stammered, knowing she sounded entirely unconvincing. She hastily threw on her shirt and an additional sweater to cover herself appropriately, but, by then, Harry had walked into the tent as well.

"I heard yelling." He eyed them both tentatively, afraid he might have entered in the midst of another row. "Everything all right?"

Hermione was about to say something when Ron beat her to it. "No," he declared, pointing his finger at her. "She's got some nasty markings on her back that she won't answer to."

"What?" Harry crinkled his nose and approached her.

Hermione jerked. "No, Harry, please!"

"Show me," he commanded, albeit in a friendly manner that didn't carry at all the weight Severus's would have. He placed his hands on his hips. "'Mione, let me see, please? No use in making up an excuse now. Ron saw them."

Hermione heaved her shoulders and reluctantly turned around. She lifted her sweatshirt and undershirt to show the visible gashes between her shoulder blades. They were no longer red but quite heavy, protruding, and black and blue in spots. She bit her lip hard, hearing a sound of alarm come from Harry in response.

"'Mione," he whispered, clearly distressed, "what on earth happened to you? I thought you said you stayed out of trouble while you were away? That you didn't get hurt when you snuck into Gringotts?"

Hermione turned around to face her worried friends. "Harry..."

"Obviously _something_ happened to you, 'Mione, so what gives? Why would you keep this from us?" Sensing her hesitation, he narrowed his eyes, confused, and reached out to touch her arm. "'Mione, we're you're friends. Just tell us what happened."

* * *

**A/N #2: This may seem like another kind of nasty cliff hanger, but it isn't, I can assure you. And I don't mind giving that away to you up front.**


	40. Return to Hogwarts

**A/N: All right, well, moving right along, I guess...  
**

**A few important things to know about this chapter before reading: **

**1). Severus's Patronus hasn't changed _for a reason_, which won't be disclosed (or hinted at, rather) 'till later in this story.**

**2). You will only find a condensed version of the battle in this chapter; I'm not as interested in the final confrontation as I am with Severus's "demise" and what happens thereafter, which is why you won't get a very detailed Battle of Hogwarts sequence here.  
**

**3). I've kept the setting to the Shrieking Shack (_Unquestionable Love_ readers will already know this), but I've gone with the movie version for Nagini's attack on Severus. To be honest, describing Nagini coming at the wizard through her floating cage just felt silly when I was writing (sorry Rowling). I find the movie version much more horrifying, so that's what I went with.  
**

**__****Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 40: Return to Hogwarts**

Hermione had to twist the facts yet again, which emotionally hurt like hell, but it beat telling the truth. It would have been too great a risk to tell them why she had _really_ up and left them in the middle of the night, and that, in actuality, she went to Malfoy Manor of her own accord, and without force. But it worked easily enough for the boys to buy into her story.

She couldn't use Gingotts as an excuse, as she had already patched that up—_Idiot, Hermione! Get your stories right!_—so she gave them something else instead; something that was at least somewhat closer to reality. Snatchers had captured her shortly after she left Gringotts, she was taken to Malfoy Manor, was kept a prisoner for several days (at least _that_ wasn't a lie), and was interrogated for information on Harry's whereabouts and the cup (also the truth). She had managed to grab the cup back but was hexed while escaping the premises.

The rest of it, however, Hermione kept purposely mum about: the fact that she had gone to see Severus beforehand, that she entered the place of her own free will, even that Severus was present and later took care of her after she made her narrow escape. As to the cup itself, she couldn't possibly share the truth on that either: that Severus had been the one to claim it and handed it over to her to destroy. Not being able to share that bit broke her heart.

"But why didn't you come to us right away?" Harry pressed, appropriately confused.

"Because I was in pretty bad shape. I - I knew we didn't have much Dittany left, so I made a stop for that and other supplies at some dodgy apothecary in Knockturn Alley, then stayed at an inn to sort of recoup and see to everything myself. I was also afraid that I was being followed, Harry. If I came directly back here, who knows who might have followed me if they had even glimpsed where I was headed or knew who I was."

"Oh... True."

Harry seemed torn, and she could see the guilt mounting on his face. "It's all right, Harry. I've just been a little overwhelmed with what happened. I wasn't ready to tell you guys what I'd been through yet."

_Perhaps never!_

"How did you escape?"

Hermione wasn't sure whether she should be honest at that point or not. After all, Draco knew about hers and Severus's relationship, and he was the only one, at that. Would he tell? Would the boy slip at some point? If they all managed to get out of this mess unscathed, would Draco make a point of saying something to either one of them or to others?

_Oh, forget it, Hermione. You've lied enough for one lifetime._

"Draco freed me and helped me get outside. After that, I was on my own."

"_What?_" Ron's mouth fell, and Harry matched his dumbfounded expression.

"_Draco?_" Harry repeated.

"Yes. Hard to believe, I know..."

"Who knew the git actually possessed some moral fiber?" Ron breathed, almost in awe.

Harry quickly brushed it off. Hermione could tell he was a little too shocked at the moment to process all of this information. He stared at her long and hard, worry etched on his brow.

"Well, I'm glad you're all right, 'Mione. And those wounds..."

"Yes, I know. They're pretty ugly, aren't they? I'll be fine."

Her prominent scars immediately made her think of Severus. She wasn't sure if her wounds would ever fully heal; she hadn't even questioned Severus as to what he might have used on her while she was out cold, but there was no use moping over her physical ailments. They were minor in the grand scheme of things, as far as she was concerned. She was alive and so were her friends and so was Severus. For now, there was much to be thankful for.

* * *

"Severus?"

"Mmm?"

Hermione looped a leg through his and scooted closer beneath the covers. Naked and fully comfortable, both kept close to each other for additional warmth. Hermione had grown quite accustomed to sleeping next to Severus, so much so that it felt entirely wrong when he wasn't there. But it was their unfortunate reality: it couldn't be prevented. Frequent separation, war, death and destruction... There many obstacles routinely standing in their way. And then there were her close friends, who didn't have a clue; they had no idea she was routinely sneaking off for a couple hours of pure bliss, her one ounce of happiness. What would they think if they knew?

_Never talk to me again, probably..._

Ron was keeping watch tonight, so Hermione chanced leaving the tent for a few hours. She was getting a little too good at sneaking away, and the guilt of doing so was never far from her mind, especially in light of leaving them high and dry nearly two weeks ago, but Hermione decided that she needed to do so for her own peace of mind. She had to get away, if only for a little while, for her own sanity. That was Hermione's reasoning, and she would readily stick to it.

"Hermione?" Severus asked, when she didn't respond.

Hermione's eyelashes fluttered. "Sorry. I've been wanting to ask you something."

"Always questions," he repeated, as he so often did with subtle amusement.

Hermione smiled at first, but then looked him over seriously. "Your scars..."

Severus arched an eyebrow and turned his head fully. "Yes?"

"You mentioned before that some of them weren't made by Death Eaters, or by the Dark Lord. Where do the rest come from?" She unconsciously traced a couple of the deeper marks along his chest, feeling the slashes and rough patches of skin against her finger tips.

"You really want to know?"

Hermione tapered her eyebrows. "Yes, I would."

Severus rolled onto his side, facing her directly, and ran his hand gently up and down her arm. The depths of his eyes were reflective as they bore into hers.

"Some of these are from my loving father," he stated in an acidic tone. Hermione wasn't necessarily surprised to learn this, but it was still disheartening to hear. "He rather enjoyed seeing proof of the damage he could cause, as most abusers do. And he would use anything and everything to get at me; whatever he was in the mood for."

Hermione couldn't help shaking her head. She leaned in and kissed him to illustrate how terrible that notion made her feel, hating how nonchalantly Severus routinely regarded being victimized as a child. Then he continued talking without much emotion.

"After Lily died, I felt such a horrible sense of guilt over not protecting her, of not doing enough, of using that vulgar term on her years before... I was deeply ashamed of myself—for what I'd become, for the monster I'd grown into, _for who I was_.

"Understand, Hermione, I'm guilty of many horrific things from back then that I'd rather forget. You know this, but I haven't shared any of it in explicit detail. None of that's different now, for that matter. Legilimency, physical and mental torture, Dark Arts inflictions... You get the idea."

His voice had gone quiet and Hermione nodded, continuing to graze the violent scars up and down his chest. "I was isolated, alone, guilt-ridden, desolate, and weakened once she was gone. I... I didn't know how to cope with my black mania, so I resorted to stupidity to feed my pain and suffering. Many of these scars," he peered down at where her hand was lovingly touching him, "most of them, actually, I did to myself..."

Hermione was visibly shocked and horrified. She stopped tracing the marks and laid her palm against his warm chest, detecting his faint heartbeat beneath. It was a moment or two before she could will herself to speak.

"You... _You_ did this to yourself?"

"Indeed, yes."

"H - How?"

"I believe Potter foolishly used it on Draco last year."

Hermione's pretty eyes widened further. _Sectumsempra_. She remembered Harry describing what the spell had done to Draco. Blood. So much blood... And the slashes that formed all over the boy's body, as if he had been sliced repeatedly by a sharp blade.

"You... You self-harmed?" she repeated, hardly able to believe it. "_Sectumsempra?_"

Severus brought his lips together and shifted his head, letting a few straggly hairs fall into his eyes. "Yes, I did."

Hermione instantly weaved her hand around his back to embrace him tightly. Her heart lodged in her throat as she gripped him with all her might.

"Oh, Severus, I'm so sorry. I... I had no idea."

"It's all right," he whispered back with considerable apathy; she didn't like it at all. "It's not the correct way to cope, I know, but if I could have mustered the courage to simply kill myself back then, I would have. But I was a coward."

Hermione startled. "Don't say that, Severus!"

"Wouldn't you rather hear the truth?"

"Yes, but..."

"Hermione, I don't feel that way anymore."

"_Even so!_"

There was a pause in which neither one of them spoke, before Severus piped up next to her ear, "You do realize why I stayed alive, don't you? Why I didn't just off myself once Lily was gone?"

Hermione drew back to look properly at the man she loved, though her eyes were now forlorn and watering. "It was for Harry, wasn't it?" It was something she had long suspected but hadn't been sure how to approach him about. "For Lily's son... You stayed alive to protect him—_for her_—didn't you?"

Severus surprised her with a feeble, gentle smile no one else ever saw. "Yes, that's right."

Hermione bit on her lip and brought herself to him again, burrowing her face against his chest, and softly pecking his skin. "I'm glad you didn't..." she found herself choking on her own words. "I... I'm glad you stayed alive. So glad."

A pair of large, warm hands encased her back, one gliding up to rub the back of her neck, the familiar fingers gently pressing against her skin. Severus tilted his head towards her and whispered into her ear, "As am I. I finally have a reason—and an exceedingly good one—for sticking around."

Hermione bit on her lip harder and cried noiselessly into his neck, her face concealed by his hair. Every so often, she kissed him and repeated her gratefulness from before. She prayed he wasn't just telling her that he was contented at being alive for her benefit.

Once she felt relatively calm again, Hermione drew back to gaze at him again and rested her nose against his. "You don't... You don't still self-harm, do you? Please tell me you don't..."

Severus sighed. "No, of course not. Not anymore."

"When did you..."

"When did I stop?" She nodded, not sure if she really wanted to know. His face was surprisingly serene, she thought, for what they were discussing. "I stopped a little over a year ago."

Hermione blinked. "What?"

Severus shocked her further by cracking another small smile. "Is that so hard to believe?"

Several more tears escaped her eyes, which Severus proceeded to gently wipe away. Hermione slid her hand into his and clasped it with all her might.

"I want you to promise me something." She paused to plant a firm kiss on his hand. "If anything would happen to me—anything at all—I want you to promise me that you won't resort to doing anything like that ever again."

Severus stirred, uneasy. "Hermione..."

"_Promise me_."

"Is this really necessary?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, the caramel now swirling with flickers of gold and heightened emotion. "Yes, it _is_, Severus. If I would die, or fall off the face of the earth, or disappear never to be seen again, I don't ever want you to resort to harming yourself. _Ever_. And I want you to find a way to keep going. Promise me you'll do that?" When Severus opened his mouth to what Hermione suspected was dismiss her concerns, she spoke with more urgency. "Promise me you'll carry on, Severus, if not for your own sake, then for mine. _Please?_ Promise me."

Severus said nothing at first, only eyed her thoughtfully, undoubtedly taking his time to consider her request. Then he kissed her, his expression heartfelt and sincere once he withdrew. Hermione all but shuddered in his arms.

"Very well," he issued quietly, searching her face. "And I want the same promise from you."

Hermione pecked his hand again, and then nodded accordingly. "I promise."

Severus removed his hand from hers to covet her cheek, stroking the flushed skin, as if he were trying to memorize what it was to touch her. Hermione simply watched his penetrable eyes as they glided along with his hand, moving considerately, deliberately.

"Severus?" she pressed, her voice even quieter than before.

Severus blinked and came back to her. "Yes?"

"Lily did she... Did you ever tell her how you felt?"

The silence that followed was rather excruciating, or so Hermione thought. Severus's face went blank, and she couldn't decipher whether he was shocked, bothered, or simply considering how to address her unexpected question.

In truth, she had wanted to know for some time about his strong regard for Lily. They had never discussed it much; it was alluded to or addressed in passing, but never in great detail. Yes, he had been her only friend, so his strong attachment to her was understandable in Hermione's eyes, but the way he spoke about her, even when it wasn't in the best light, tasted almost like that of a scorned lover. And Hermione couldn't help but wonder if, in the end, Lily Potter rejected Severus in more than just their friendship...

"No, I never told her," he answered with a sigh. "I suspect she knew, perhaps in hindsight when we were no longer friends. I considered telling her many times but never worked up the courage. It's no matter though." Severus's frown grew more severe. "She would have rejected me anyhow. She couldn't love me the way that I wanted her to, no matter how desperately I longed for it..."

The allusion of what Hermione thought was pain on Severus's face made her heart ache. She kissed him again, this time with more earnestness than before, then pecked the tip of his nose and nuzzled close.

"I'm so sorry..." she whispered sadly.

_Merlin, the life this man's had_, she reflected, feeling utterly devastated and crushed, as if his pain were her own. She yearned to Obliviate it all from his mind, or, at the very least, wash the suffering away.

"Why should you feel sorry for me?" he surprised her by asking. He whisked a few curls away from her face and brought his lips to hers for another passionate embrace. "I have you now," he purred against her mouth, and his words made Hermione shiver again in response.

Severus eased her back into his arms, and the two held onto each other for a while, their warm bodies lovingly intertwined with each other. Neither wanted to let go or was willing to move away from the comfort they found in one another's arms.

Severus was the first to rear his head back to gaze at her properly, and the smirk he wore lightened Hermione's saddened disposition. "And what have I told you about your incessant need to apologize for things that aren't your fault, for that matter?"

Hermione matched his playfulness and rubbed his nose with her own. "Sorry."

Severus hissed, sending Hermione into fits of giggles before the atmosphere grew somewhat serious again. Hermione reached out and brushed her fingers through his hair, loving his sigh of contentment at her attentiveness.

"You loved her all these years and never told anyone..."

"No one except Albus, and even he lost sight of the fact that I still loved her. I guess he assumed that I properly grieved and moved on, but I never did. Not until," he paused, looking almost sheepish, and his normally pale cheeks turned a beautiful shade of pink, "you..."

Hermione ceased combing his tresses and stared at him, her breath hitching in her throat. That emotionally raw side to her was exposed again, but she willed herself not to lose her composure.

"Really?" she whispered in awe.

"Yes, of course." Severus slid his hand delicately up and down her spine. "You brought me back to life, Hermione. You've done far more for me than you know."

"I... I have?"

"You didn't know?"

"Oh... Well, I..."

Severus's handsome smile broadened, making Hermione's insides flutter. He rolled over top of her, and Hermione felt his heated body sheltering hers, and instantly yearned for more. _Much more_.

And then her wish was granted. Severus bent down to kiss her, his hair falling all around her face. His powerful arms wrapped themselves behind her back, bringing her into a strong embrace she relished. She couldn't help but moan aloud, and soon their passionate kissing turned into what both were in dire need of.

They made love a few times that night, both willing the night to stay for as long as possible. The rest of the wizarding world—the Dark forces, the uprising, the unavoidable battle for survival—could wait.

* * *

In the weeks that followed, the winter snow slowly began to lessen. There was still a sharp chill in the air, but at least the worst of the winter season was behind them. They continued to change locations, every now and then stumbling across Snatchers, though thankfully only when their protective enchantments were in place, and continued their search for the Horcruxes.

The visit to see Luna's father, Xenophilius, was a bust. They were intercepted by a group of Death Eaters that were called upon by Luna's father in a desperate move to retrieve his daughter. The trio narrowly escaped another close run-in with Lord Voldemort's minions.

"I hope Luna's all right," Hermione considered as they quickly gathered up their belongings and Disapparated to yet another location.

"Knowing her, she's probably thought of something," Harry answered.

It didn't seem to reassure any of them, however. All that Xenophilius had disclosed was that she had missed the Hogwarts Express home right before Christmas, and that he hadn't seen her since. _That_ was pretty disturbing, but there wasn't any time to deter from their plans. Luna's father confirmed the story of the Deathly Hallows, and the boys were willing to accept his word over Severus's, which aggravated Hermione greatly, and now they had to move fast.

Deaths and disappearances continued. Ron tuned into the radio far less than he used to, and Hermione wasn't willing to chance listening either, in case she happened upon that familiar Billie Holiday tune. These days, it would only bring her pain, though of a different ache than before...

She hadn't seen Severus in over a month, though, at night, they occasionally conversed via Patronus messaging; but even that was becoming less and less of an occurrence. Hermione knew Severus was terribly busy and on his guard, just as they all were, but couldn't help feeling a little bitter at being separated from him. But the timing was never appropriate, or one of them couldn't get away, or there were times when it was simply too risky to converse at all.

One night, however, as Hermione kept watch outside their tent, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular whilst the boys slept inside, her heart nearly catapulted into her throat when she caught sight of Severus's Patronus. She hadn't seen it in nearly a week.

"Are you alone?" the doe asked, its voice properly disguised.

Hermione didn't hesitate to respond back normally. "Yes, I am. How are you? What's going on? I've missed you. I've been wanting to talk to you."

"Easy, lioness," he jabbed softly, the detection of a smile seeping through his reply. "I suppose I've missed you as well."

_Supposedly? Git._

"Things aren't well at all here, but that's not why I've contacted you. I wanted to convey a message: Miss Lovegood has returned to the school. She's a bit shook up, and, naturally, I couldn't greet her properly, only warn her not to disobey any of us again and let her enter. Bellatrix and the others aren't happy that I've permitted her back into the school and didn't take her directly to them. She continues to try to make her jabs at me where she can, but it's of little concern to me anymore."

"I'm so glad she's all right," Hermione replied. "You wouldn't happen to know what happened to her, would you?"

"I do. She was taken to Malfoy Manor and escaped shortly thereafter. The Dark Lord has since moved headquarters; he's not at all pleased with the Malfoy family, I'm afraid.

"It seems that strange elf you all befriended—Dobby, I believe, is his name?—came to her rescue, knowing how concerned you've all been."

_Dobby?_ Hermione hadn't given any thought to that adorable little creature in quite some time, and the remembrance brought a smile to her face.

"Olivander was being held hostage, too, though I don't understand why. He never informed me. Dobby freed him as well. I figured you might be worried, so I wanted to get word to you as soon as I could."

_Wonderful man..._

"But I do have some bad news for you... Dobby was reportedly killed during their escape. I forced Miss Lovegood to relay the details of her absence to me, and she told me of the elf's demise. I'm sorry, Hermione."

Hermione felt crushed at hearing the unexpected, sad news. _Dobby's gone_. Then her mind immediately turned to Harry. _He'll be heartbroken..._

The doe flew away into the night, and Hermione cast her otter to reply. "Thanks for telling me. We've all been worried about Luna. I... I'm sorry to hear about Dobby. He helped Harry a lot; it's very sad to hear.

"I suppose I'll have to come up with some logical explanation for knowing all this. Harry should know. The radio; I'll make that my excuse.

"You know, this whole lying business is exhausting. I'm sick of it, Severus. I don't know how you keep all your stories straight, but I'm having a rough time of it over here...

"Anyhow, I'm sure you've gathered on your own where we'll be going soon. Harry's been having visions again. I suppose the Dark Lord already senses where we're headed?"

"Yes," Severus replied when the doe returned. "He's much more attuned to Potter these days, as I'm sure you and Weasley are already aware. You'll all have to act fast, Hermione. I mean it. And send word beforehand, if you can.

"I... I'm afraid, until I see matters shifting, or until the opportunity arises for me to make a move in Potter's favor, you're on your own." There was a considerable pause before Severus added very softly, "I'm sorry. I wish there was more I could do..."

Hermione's face, even alone in the darkness, was reflective and melancholy. "I know you do, Severus. Don't worry about me. I'll do my best to send warning of our coming. But if not, it'll be in a matter of days, I reckon. I'm really leaving it up to Harry as to when he's ready.

"I... I hope that I'll get to see you... Somehow... Maybe?"

Such a hope sounded strange in light of what was coming, and Hermione felt herself recoiling from her own words. _Such folly_.

Severus would, in all likelihood, be forced to fight on the opposite side, perhaps even against her, though she didn't reflect on that too much; the thought was sickening. She hated knowing he would be forced to fight on the wrong side. Would they all even make it out of this alive, for that matter?

_Don't think about it, Hermione. Just don't!_

Hermione waved her head back and forth to shake off her morbid thoughts, but they had been lingering in the back of her mind for a while, so it was a bit of a moot point. This was the harsh, unforgiving reality of their world; a world she, Severus, and everyone in the wizarding world were now struggling to survive in.

When the doe returned, Severus, too, sounded quite down, even for him. "I know. We can only hope for a positive outcome from all this, but I'm afraid it's rather foolish to be too optimistic, Hermione. You know what to expect, or what the outcome might be, so I won't reiterate it to you. I have no desire to make you feel down and out. Potter needs you, so stay strong. Ultimately, everything depends on him; I just hope he's ready..."

_Me, too._

"Hermione, that same request I asked of you before still applies. I hope you still have the phial I gave you? If... If I'm unable to get to Potter before the Dark Lord does, you _must_ give it to him. You'll know if you'll need to hand it over, so, whatever you do, don't hesitate. Be conspicuous about it if you must, but still get it to him somehow. Understood?"

"Yes, Severus," Hermione replied, swallowing hard. "I found it hidden amongst my things that the boys took with them after I left. Shocker that they remembered to do so, I know. So, see? I'm not _that_ careless after all." Hermione was trying to sound upbeat, but it was a miserable attempt. She couldn't even manage a smile anymore, even without having spoken to Severus for some time. "I... I understand, but, hopefully, you can relay to Harry whatever it is you need to yourself."

She was half tempted to ask Severus something about the Horcruxes again, something that had been pressing her brain for months that she hadn't shared with him up until now, but she couldn't quite muster the courage. Instead, she stomped down the thought, along with her fears, as best she could.

"We shall see," he returned soberly; the severity of that listless remark made Hermione wrap her arms tighter around herself. "In the meantime, please be safe. I must go."

The doe danced around Hermione, then vanished into the trees. Hermione had never felt so cold or frightened or nervous; at least, not that she could recollect. This feeling was almost worse than what she had experienced while locked up at Malfoy Manor.

_The unknown_. Inevitable and terrifying. There was only possibility, no promises.

It was a long time before Hermione willed herself to move from her spot on the ground. When she did, she got to her feet, stretched her legs, and paced back and forth as she kept her eyes focused for any unwanted intruders. Anything to cast out some of the unsettling thoughts pounding her brain was worth the effort, and, so, she exercised for the remainder of the night.

* * *

"You know, Snivellus..."

Severus did his best not to roll his eyes, instead simply giving Bellatrix a bored sort of regard. "Yes?"

"The Dark Lord is starting to come 'round to what I've been telling him all along."

"And what is that?" Severus asked casually as he sat before the extensive fireplace at Malfoy Manor, awaiting Voldemort's return. He had been recently summoned to the estate, though he had no idea why.

_Unusual..._

Bellatrix strolled over to him and laced her arms defiantly across her chest. "About you and Miss Granger, of course!" she sniped, as if it should have been obvious.

Severus snorted and took a sip of the Firewhisky that had been offered to him by Lucius upon his arrival. For the moment, his hosts were indisposed—something that immediately made Severus highly suspicious—and left him only with Bellatrix for company in their luxurious sitting room. Given the unfortunate circumstance, he would have preferred no company at all. He stared at the swirling flames and ignored the witch's remark, or so she thought, which only heightened her hostility.

"I _know_ you helped that idiot girl escape!"

"Oh?"

"I mean it Severus! You've gone soft on Mudbloods! You have no interest in our cause whatsoever! I can tell! You don't fool me!"

This time, Severus _did_ roll his eyes, and brought one leg over the other on the sofa. "And you are as deranged and tiresome as ever."

"You think the Dark Lord isn't suspicious of you?" she cackled a little too triumphantly for Severus's liking. "You think he hasn't had second thoughts about the way you've dealt with matters at Hogwarts, or that wretched girl, for that matter? I never thought you to be a fool, Snivellus, but you've grown far too sure of yourself these days! Consider this the only warning I'll give you."

Severus peered up at her inanimately. "A warning from you is an immediate dismissal in my eyes. Be gone, Bellatrix. You're wasting your efforts, and I have no interest in hearing anything you have to say."

With that, he brought the glass of liquor to his lips and took a delicate sip while the crazed witch watched him all the while. She narrowed her eyes, bearing all the hatred she had long possessed for him.

"You assume far too much about your position in our ranks, Snivellus," she hissed quietly. "You've grown way too overly confident. The Dark Lord is starting to see what I see, what I've seen all along! You won't get away with this much longer."

Severus snarled outright. He hadn't wanted to let her get to him, but being on pins and needles for so long was finally starting to tug at his nerves. He squeezed his glass with all his might and bore his teeth.

"Get away with _what_ exactly?" he challenged through a dark sneer.

"Protecting the girl! And Merlin knows who else that isn't on our side..."

A half-cocked smirk emerged on Bellatrix's face that unsettled Severus to see, even if he didn't give her the luxury of knowing it. Whatever she was feeding Voldemort, and whatever newfound lack of confidence he might be having in Severus, it was starting to undo him at the seams.

"You're pulling at strings, Bellatrix, as usual. You're always off base, however, so I'm hardly surprised. If your goal this evening is to unravel me, you're doing a very poor job of it."

_Shit... Something's not right here..._

The smirk disappeared, and a flicker of anger crossed her eyes. "Fine! We'll see when this is over who was right! Just wait!"

"With pleasure."

The two stared at each other without speaking until Voldemort suddenly Apparated into the room, the ever faithful Nagini at his side. Bellatrix immediately scurried over to greet him. Severus rose from the couch and placed his hands behind his back, a little unhinged by this meeting, and waited to be addressed.

"Severus," Voldemort greeted in his normal demeanor.

_Nothing out of the ordinary..._

"My Lord." He gave a respectful bow, something he always loathed doing, but it couldn't be helped.

"The boy will be venturing to Hogwarts any day now. You are prepared, I trust?"

"Certainly, my Lord."

"Excellent." He turned to the witch who was staring at him in her enamored fashion, desperate to be of service. "Leave us, Bellatrix. I wish to speak to Severus alone."

Her disappointment was obvious, but she hurried away as instructed, shooting Severus down with a ferocious glare before she left. Once they were alone, Severus became a little more relaxed, though only just. Voldemort and Nagini proceeded to circle him as usual.

"There's a matter of concern I wish to address with you." Severus kept his face expressionless. "You've been a most trusted and faithful servant of mine, Severus. And you have carried out my orders exceedingly well."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"But there have been complaints recently..."

Severus felt his chest begin to throb. Staying as neutral and unaffected as possible, he titled his head slightly.

"Complaints, my Lord?"

"About you." Voldemort purposely waited, no doubt wishing to judge Severus's reaction and whether or not there might be justification to whatever ill-information he was receiving.

_Bellatrix. Lucius. Those fucking vultures._

Not detecting anything, Voldemort continued, circulating his wand in hand all the while, "You see, for some time now, I have been under the impression that you've been loyal to a fault; but there are others who feel differently. Bellatrix and Lucius, for starters."

_For starters?_

"While I am tempted to discredit their suspicions, as Bellatrix is not in her right state of mind, as we all know, and Lucius is, shall we say, only alive at my mercy for the time being, the Carrows recently came to me with some complaints of their own."

_No._

"My Lord?" Severus could feel a heat trickling up the center of his chest and did his best to keep it at bay.

"They were inquiring as to why you've gone missing from the school multiple times over the past few months, which got me wondering..."

_No... Shit. If they've told him my excuses I've made for leaving the school, this is it._

"...why you would go missing at all? I found that rather...curious."

Severus could sense Voldemort's Legilimency pressing on his brain but was fully prepared. He swiftly conjured several images he hoped Voldemort would buy. _Searching for a series of Mudblood students who escaped the confinements of the school... Thinking of other places to safeguard the Sword of Gryffindor after it was almost taken by students_ (though he certainly wouldn't let on that it was a fake)_... Acting on a 'tip' as to where Harry Potter might be located, only to discover that it led to nowhere..._

After the images were through flooding Voldemort's mind, he stepped outside of Severus's concealed conscience and looked him over carefully, his red eyes squinting. Severus braced himself, instinctively sensing his wand hidden beneath the breast of his coat. His fingers were tingling to reach for it from behind his back.

Then Voldemort's doubtful countenance turned into an expression of returned confidence. "I thought perhaps you were doing a few things I might not have approved of."

"Never, my Lord," Severus offered back with a curt bow, trying not to breathe his sigh of relief too heavily.

Voldemort extended his hand and placed it beneath Severus's chin, forcing him to raise his head and stare straight into the man's inhuman eyes. Severus held his breath but kept his façade intact.

"Regardless of your good intentions, Severus, I will not permit you to leave the school again without my permission. Is that understood?"

It was casually commanded, but the underlying threat was clear. And Severus didn't hesitate to answer to it.

"Yes, my Lord. As you wish."

Voldemort removed his hold and looked over the powerful wand in his possession. "You say this wand will only answer to me?"

Severus wasn't sure why Voldemort was asking him this, and now of all times, but he gave him an affirmative nod. "Yes, my Lord. You are its one and rightful master. It will answer to _you_ alone, and Potter won't stand a chance."

Voldemort's creepy grin spread wide, confirming for Severus that he was finally in the clear, and officially within the madman's good graces again. "Yes... He will come soon. I sense it may be as early as tomorrow. I will leave you to prepare accordingly."

_Tomorrow..._

"Thank you, my Lord."

Severus gave one final bow to his master, but when he turned to take his leave, he was surprised to hear Voldemort readdress him. "Severus," he called, to which the dark wizard whipped his cloak back around. "I expect you to come to me once we've infiltrated Hogwarts, when I call upon you."

"Certainly, my Lord."

"And I would like you to recapture the Mudblood for me." Severus tapered his eyebrows together before he could stop himself. "I still have many plans in mind for the Granger girl, and I expect to have her taken alive."

"Yes, my Lord."

With that, Severus turned away to Disapparate. When he reentered Hogwarts, his heart jumped into his throat. Surely, he should have anticipated that the fight wasn't over for Hermione? That the Dark Lord might still try to retake her? Yes, he knew, but confirmation of those plans sent Severus's stomach into a series of entangled knots. He wanted to be sick. Hadn't she only narrowly escaped last time?

Severus quickly made his way down several corridors and back to the Headmaster's office. If things didn't go according to plan—if the Dark Lord wasn't defeated tomorrow night—then Severus was determined to ensure that at least the one person he loved remained safe, no matter the cost.

* * *

The trio entered the town of Hogsmeade, where spring was overrun by lingering snow and cold weather. Hermione had wanted to send a message via Patronus to Severus, but she was never alone long enough to do so. It was little matter anyhow. He would know soon enough...

Once they managed to enter Hogwarts, nostalgia overwhelmed the boys at being back in the place of their youth, which had once been such a wonderful and warm sanctuary. For Hermione, it was about the same as well. Having only seen Severus's quarters on the various times she had visited over the past six months, seeing other parts of the castle were admittedly devastating to behold. The place was not what she remembered from only a year ago. It was gloomy, dark, and overwhelmingly oppressive. The magic and wonderment was gone.

_Severus, how have you withstood this?_

Of course, it was partly Severus's own doing that the school was in the foreboding state that it was, but her heart ached and pitied him, nonetheless. This wasn't the Hogwarts of his youth either, and his underlying guilt about what Hogwarts had become under his stead—or 'dictatorship,' as everyone else phrased it—was, to her, now understandable. She detested knowing that this may very well be how Severus's leadership of the school would be remembered, no matter what the outcome was.

If they had a prayer of_ both_ making it through this night alive, what then? What would become of Severus's position? Would he be forced to leave? Would he be permitted to stay once people learned the truth?

_The truth_. How Hermione couldn't wait for the world to know what she knew, most of all Harry...

Hermione hadn't really concerned herself with what the aftermath of this night might be. Like Severus, she had willed herself in recent weeks to stop thinking much about the future. Making it through tonight was proving difficult enough.

It wasn't long after returning to Hogwarts that Voldemort and his supporters showed up, ready for a fight. It was hard for Hermione to rationalize that this pivotal moment—the one they had all known was coming—had finally arrived. And they _still_ had a number of Horcruxes to locate and destroy before the night was through.

_Later, Hermione. There will time to find him. There_ has_ to be time._

But then Severus was pushed out of Hogwarts by none other than Professor McGonagall, something Hermione didn't learn about until after the fact, as the trio had split up beforehand. Hermione felt an immediate sense of panic and dread, but there was little time to reflect on how she might find him.

_I suppose I'll have to give Harry the phial after all_, she considered gravely.

As the night wore on, it only grew more gruesome. They destroyed the Hufflepuff Cup, discovered the Lost Diadem in the Room of Requirement, which was then consumed by fire, and soon rejoined their friends in battle. But there was still the snake to destroy, and none of them had any clue how to destroy it, or how they would even get close enough to try.

Using his connection with Voldemort, Harry voluntary learned that he wasn't far away from the school; he was in the Shrieking Shack. Hermione's heart was racing as they immediately set out for the place, and managed to get inside undetected; at least, for now.

It wasn't long after they had managed to find a hiding spot that Severus showed up at Voldemort's request. Hermione was relieved to find he hadn't left the school entirely. But her nerves soon increased tenfold when Voldemort began to circle Severus along with Nagini.

Something about that wasn't right. The Dark Lord was grilling him about the Elder Wand, and even Hermione could see a wavering concern flash by Severus's eyes at one point when Voldemort was behind him.

She tried to listen in on their conversation, just as Ron and Harry were doing, but was having a tough time focusing. All she could think about was snatching Severus then and there and taking him away from this godforsaken place, as far away from Voldemort's clutches as possible...

"Where is Granger?"

That brought Hermione back to reality. She startled, as did Harry and Ron, and both boys inadvertently grabbed her by the arm.

Severus blinked. "She's with Potter at the moment, my Lord. When the boy comes to you, I suspect she will be with him. If she's not, I will go in search of her myself and bring her to you."

"I'm disappointed, Severus..."

Hermione's heart was pounding so hard she was finding it difficult to breathe. The underlying flicker of surprise on Severus's face didn't reassure her either. His eyes sharpened.

"My Lord?"

"The Mudblood is one thing, but this wand..." He paused, holding it up before Severus, before tilting his head and his eyes turned into slits. "You're a clever man, Severus. I am not the true master of this wand, am I? The real master of this wand is the one who killed Dumbledore. Yes, Severus... _You_."

Then Hermione saw it. She vaguely heard Severus raise his hands to ask Voldemort for something—more time to seek out Harry, or something along those lines? All she could see was the shock and what she hadn't expected to find on Severus's face, which had gone white as a sheet: terror.

Voldemort made an unexpected wave of his arm, and Severus suddenly jerked and clamped a hand to his throat as gushes of blood oozed down his front, spilling over his hand. Hermione went numb. Had her heart stopped beating? This wasn't right. She was hallucinating.

Then Severus hit the ground with a severe thud, collapsing against the wooden floor boards, barely able to lift his head as what happened next made Hermione throw a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from crying out. Nagini slithered forward with considerable speed, reared her head back, and then slammed her sharp, poisonous fangs straight into Severus's throat.

There was the awful sound of torn flesh, of gurgling blood, of gasps for breath, and loud thumps and thrashing noises as Severus's body whipped this way and that, trying to avoid Nagini's strikes unsuccessfully. And there were several of them.

_SEVERUS!_

Hermione started to get to her feet, the rational part of her brain gone along with the moment, but Ron, crouched next to her in their enclosed space, grabbed her firmly by her jacket and shoved her back down to the ground. There was too much commotion going on for Voldemort to hear, thankfully, but Hermione squirmed and struggled against Ron's hold.

"'Mione!" he gasped, stunned and completely confounded by what she was doing. "What the bloody hell? _Be still!_"

Harry had momentarily turned his head, and in that swift moment, something peculiar swept over him. The way Hermione was surveying the god-awful scene before them was entirely void of what should have been expected of her.

Her eyes were wide and maddened, her mouth was hanging open, and she had a bewildered look on her face that bordered on hysteria. Why on earth would she be having _that_ kind of reaction to Professor Snape?

Harry quickly turned back to what was happening. As much as he loathed the Potions Master, as much as he and the dark wizard had never gotten on, as prickly and nasty and coldhearted as he determined the man to be, Harry was sickened to see what was being done to him.

It was torture. Violent. A truly horrible way to die.

It didn't matter that the Slytherin was a Death Eater or that he had been so verbally cruel to him in the past. As Harry watched Severus's demise unfold, he quickly concluded that no one deserved to die like this. No one.

_Not even Snape._

Nagini glided back to her master, her mouth freshly covered in blood—_Severus's blood_—and she and Voldemort swiftly turned their back on the crumpled man on the floor, on the wizard who had been his most loyal and obedient servant, and Disapparated from the scene, leaving Severus Snape for dead.

As soon as he left, Hermione sprung to her feet, along with Harry and Ron. They emerged from their hiding spot to find Severus on the opposite end of the room, lying helpless and weak. He was covered in a pool of his own blood, the contents staining the front of his frock coat, and he was gasping for air that wasn't getting to his lungs thanks to the prominent, large snake bites in his neck.

Hermione almost dropped her wand and started to shake violently. _Severus! NO!_ She wanted to say something, but she was lost for words.

Harry suddenly sprung forward before Hermione could and kneeled down to the professor's side. He lifted Severus's head, and the two locked eyes on each other—the wrongly accused wizard and the Chosen One, whom, Hermione lamented, had no idea just how much he owed the dying man choking on his own blood—and a few tears fell from Severus's eyes.

"Take...them..." Hermione vaguely heard him beg; she was paralyzed and too much in shock to think. "Take them... Pl - Please..."

"'Mione! A flask! _Hurry!_"

As if by some mechanical switch in her brain, Hermione robotically reached into the small bag she was carrying and extracted an empty phial, which Harry snatched from her and pressed to Severus's cheek. He sealed Severus's tears inside it as Hermione watched from afar.

He had delivered the memories—whatever they were—to Harry. Hermione wouldn't have to go through with the task after all.

"Look...at...me..."

Hermione's eyes were misty; she wasn't even aware that she was crying and trembling uncontrollably. Severus's dark eyes, growing evermore lifeless, turned away from Harry and, to her pain and devastation, met hers.

Hermione felt her heart freeze. She wanted to pinch herself and wake up from this nightmare. This wasn't happening. Severus wasn't dying. This was all some grave mistake. He wasn't leaving her. He wasn't dying right before her eyes whilst she stood there like a silly girl gawking at him, sobbing relentlessly.

Her lover. Her wizard. _My Severus..._

Then the black eyes lazily turned away to look at Harry one last time. He seemed to want to convey something to the boy, something heartfelt, something to reverse what Harry undoubtedly thought about him all those years.

"You have your mother's eyes..." he rasped, his voice a heartbroken whisper.

Then his arms went limp. A defiant gasp escaped Severus's mouth, his head fell back against the floorboards with an eerie thud, and his entire body went still.

_Severus... Severus? Wha— NO! SEVERUS!_

* * *

**A/N #2: Again, for those who've already read the original _Unquestionable Love_, you'll already know the aftermath of this moment, but now you'll finally discover more of the details of what this moment for Severus brings (amongst many other things yet to come). _  
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**We've nearly reached the end of _DH! _Now it's time for the rest of this story to take shape...**


	41. When Death Smiles

**A/N: Thanks again for your continued feedback and support of this story. There's still quite a lot more to come. After all, at the heart of this story is the development of Severus's and Hermione's relationship, and there's still a great deal more to bring to light, so I hope that's exciting for you.  
**

**_Unquestionable Love_ readers may recognize the first half of this chapter. I've added to it considerably, however, so it shouldn't feel like just a rehash.  
**

**__****Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 41: When Death Smiles**

Hermione couldn't believe it. She just couldn't. Her mind hadn't caught up with her heart, and yet, in her heart, she felt the worst pain she had ever experienced; worse than the hex to her back, the scar she had gotten in the Department of Mysteries, worse than receiving an Unforgivable Curse from the Dark Lord himself. This was something else entirely.

She felt as dead as the man in front of her, lying lifeless at her feet. Hermione looked upon the black mass—the man she loved covered in his own blood—and her pain only grew worse and worse. Her heart lodged in her throat.

Harry slowly stumbled to his feet in a state of shock and turned around to face his friends. Professor Snape was dead.

The famous young wizard with the penetrating green eyes stared down at the phial in his hand that contained selections of the late professor's memories, and he felt unexpectedly crestfallen; or guilty at the very least, for witnessing the death of the man who had so hated him in life. He wasn't sure why, for Severus Sanpe was always spiteful to him, but after observing the ever strong, powerful wizard receive several snake bites to the neck, Harry quickly changed his mind about ever wanting to see justice done upon the unpopular professor. It had been horrifying to see, watching the man's life slip away like that...

Hermione couldn't look at the young men beside her. All she could do—all she _wanted_ to do—was stare at the lifeless body that was Severus Snape's, forever. She felt the tears streaming down her face, but she didn't care if they saw. She didn't care about anything anymore; anything except Severus. And he was gone. Lost to her forever.

Her breath quickened, and she was unable to suppress the excruciating grief that was scorching through her every limb. The pain was absolutely unbearable. In that moment, she wanted to die. She wanted to join him.

Harry and Ron were watching the sorrow that swept across Hermione's face silently. But it was Harry alone who came to a dawning, stunned realization, one that he found peculiar when they watched the professor die from their hiding spot:_ Hermione Granger was in love with Professor Snape_.

It was undeniable. It was written all over her anguished, grief-stricken visage. That misery, those tears, that devastated look... There was no question about it. _That was love_.

Despite his complete and utter shock, Harry managed a comforting whisper to the sobbing young woman before him, though he really didn't know what to say, really. "'Mione... I... I'm so sorry..."

Ron was staring at Hermione, befuddled. He couldn't understand what the apology or empathy was for. Why was she crying over Professor Snape? Sure, it was unsettling to watch him die. No one deserved to die like that, not even the 'bat of the dungeons' himself. But why was she weeping uncontrollably, as if the man before her were one of them? _Because he wasn't!_ He was a Death Eater, he had been Voldemort's right-hand man, and he had killed Professor Dumbledore in cold blood. Why on earth would Hermione lose her composure over someone like _that?_

Ron didn't remotely understand, but he still attempted to reach out to console her, touching Hermione's arm gently, desperate to comfort the young woman he was still very much in love with. Hermione didn't rebuff him, but she also didn't want Ron to touch her. Not in that way.

Through the wet tears swimming around in her eyes that blurred and obstructed her vision, Hermione continued to gape at the lifeless body of her lover, unable to grasp the reality, unable to accept that he was truly gone. She wiped her tears on her sleeve, unaware of Harry and Ron gawking at her, not conscious yet of what Harry now knew, and then a small, shocked gasp escaped her lips. Was Severus still breathing?

_That's your grief talking_, Hermione, she reflected sorely.

But then, indeed, she saw it a second time. No part of Severus's body moved except his chest, which rose and fell subtly, shallow and barely detectable. Hermione couldn't believe it, and the sight shook her to her very foundation. _He wasn't dead!_ She had been grieving for the past several moments with the time ticking away and the man she loved was still alive, albeit barely hanging on.

Hermione ran to Severus's side and took hold of his stiff upper body, stirring him slightly. Her hands ran across his chest and were immediately soaked in his blood. Harry and Ron were completely dumbfounded, their eyes wide with alarm.

"_Severus!_" Hermione cried, situating herself as close to him as possible, feeling the tickling of his labored breaths against her face.

He didn't open his eyes. She didn't realize that she had addressed the professor by his first name either, something she had never done in front of Harry or Ron. It was a slip of the tongue that didn't escape their notice, but they were also equally stunned to discover that was Severus was still breathing.

"Harry! Ron! He's alive! Quick, we have to do something!"

Ron continued to stare, paralyzed and confused at Hermione's anxiety and the wet tears still trickling down her cheeks. She was grasping the older wizard in a manner that seemed inappropriate.

_Had she ever embraced him that way?_ He couldn't remember. _Why did she care so much whether the man lived or died? He was a traitor. Why was she so desperate to save him after everything he had done?_

Harry, who didn't share his best friend's inner confusion anymore, moved closer, utterly bewildered to see him still clinging to life. He was unsure of what to do. He turned to the frantic, brilliant witch at his feet. Didn't Hermione, the smartest of them all, always have a solution for everything?

"I have to get him out of here!" Hermione exclaimed, looking over Severus's frightening condition with panic-stricken eyes. "The Potions lab! There must be _something_ there I can give him that will offset the venom!"

_Merlin, let a bezoar or antidote be enough. Please!_

"'Mione," Harry murmured. She whipped her head around and looked up at him. "I - I have to find out what's in this phial. I have to find out what Snape wanted me to know. And there's not much time..."

Hermione watched the contortions of Harry's handsome, beaten face, which darted from her to Severus and back, a mixture of guilt and uncertainty emerging behind the round glasses. As distraught as Hermione was, she nodded to her brave friend and tried to offer him a consoling smile, but she was overwrought with worry at Severus's declining state.

"It's all right, Harry," she tried to reassure him. "You and Ron go on! I'll find you."

"_Are you mad?_" Ron came rushing over to them, staring at both in disbelief. "'Mione, we have to destroy the snake before it's too late! It's one of the last Horcruxes! We have to go! Leave him!"

Hermione tried to mask the sting she felt at Ron's careless words. The young man had no idea what he was asking of her.

"I'm not going to just let him die, Ron! _I have to help him!_ Now GO! You're wasting time!"

The two male wizards eyed each other apprehensively. Then Harry shifted his focus back to Hermione, and she was grateful for the unexpected, encouraging words her friend offered in that moment, unaware of just how much they were needed.

"Get him an antidote, 'Mione. I - I'm sure he'll be fine."

Fresh tears emerged from Hermione's sad eyes and she gazed up at both men thoughtfully, trying to etch the image of the pair of them in her memory. Would this be the last time she saw her closest friends?

_Don't think like that, Hermione!_ she berated herself. _Focus! Severus needs you!_

She turned back to him, moving about to hold him in her arms, and didn't even hear Harry or Ron exit the Shrieking Shack, and she gathered that they must be perplexed as hell by her actions. But none of that mattered. None of that was of any concern to her now as she stared down, distraught, at Severus lying slack against her and not moving.

"Severus?" she whispered rather loudly; he didn't respond to her voice. "Severus, it's me. I'm going to get you out of here. _Please hang on!_ Stay with me!"

Severus was clearly too weak to Disapparate. It would have to be all Hermione's doing, and, even then, there was no guarantee that he would make it out unscathed, but she _had_ to try. There was no other alternative that her racing mind could recollect at the moment, and she had to move as fast as she could.

Hermione attempted to move Severus's rigid, heavy body, but he wouldn't budge. A small, painful moan escaped his mouth, giving Hermione a start. Even if they did Disapparate, Severus was too hefty for her petite frame to carry. She whipped out her wand and aimed it at the bloody, unconscious man.

"_Mobilicorpus_," she muttered, allowing her to move Severus more freely.

Hermione glided him to his feet and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders, never letting her wand aim away from him so that the spell held, and placed her other arm carefully around his waist. He stirred a little in her embrace but never opened his eyes. Hermione could feel a warm, unnatural liquid oozing against her jacket, saturating the fabric over her skin, and she tried desperately to put it out of her mind, because her nose could also smell the unsettling odor.

_Severus's blood._

Once firmly on her feet with him in her grasp, Hermione gulped and turned to the once powerful wizard beside her, now completely limp in her arms. "Severus," she said close to his ear, "I have to Disapparate us. Hang on, love."

Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated all of her attention on their destination: his private quarters. It was the only place within Hogwarts she had access to.

Their bodies suddenly contorted in space and whirled about. Hermione felt a wave of nausea in the pit of her stomach as they twisted every which way. She held tight to Severus as they were transported to Hogwarts and heard something almost inaudible come from Severus's lips, but there was no time to ask or gather what he said; however, it dawned on her as soon as they landed.

They were suddenly in one of the storage rooms off of the Potions lab—not his personal chambers as Hermione had been attempting to get them to—and it was Severus who had uttered some password to get them access. She was grateful that he was at least conscious enough to get them back into the school where she might have a prayer of helping him.

Hermione immediately collapsed with Severus onto the stone floor. Her wand had not been aimed at him when they landed, rather ungracefully, on the cold ground, and his weak body crumbled now that the moving spell had ceased. Hermione let out a gasp as they crashed and fumbled momentarily to keep Severus steady and unharmed. She leaned him carefully against the wall and was stunned when Severus's eyes shot open as a result of being tossed around. But then their blackness contracted and they were practically lifeless again, fluttering helplessly and fighting to stay open.

"Severus!" Hermione breathed, taking his ashen face in her hands and trying to shake him awake. Her hands were covered in blood—_his blood_—but she ignored it. "Severus! I need you to stay awake! _Please!_"

Severus didn't say anything or open his eyes, his mind and body evidently focused on just trying to stay alive. Hermione frantically stood up and scanned her surroundings. There were thousands of potions in this frigid room, lining the walls and towering to the ceiling.

They had never gotten around to completing Severus's research on an alternative anti-venom potion, or even coming remotely close to a solution at that. The only logical alternative, in that case, would be the anti-venom administered to Mr. Weasley two years prior. It had proven more difficult to find the anti-venom Mr. Weasley needed than they expected, and Hermione had no idea what it was called, which immediately set her into a panic.

How on earth was she going to find the potion she needed? Her usually composed intellect ran away with her fears, leaving the logical portion of her brain blank.

"_Severus!_" she yelled helplessly to the frail figure on the ground. "Which one is the one we need? Please! I'll never find the anti-venom without your help!"

When Severus didn't answer, Hermione groaned miserably. She held out her wand in the darkness, her mind berating her for what she was about to try. It wouldn't work, and she knew it.

"_Accio Anti-Snake Venom Potion!_"

No phial emerged from the shelves. Nothing happened at all, which the clever witch had anticipated. Nagini was no ordinary snake, and the venom would certainly require a unique solution. Hermione fathomed that whatever poison was now advancing through Severus's system was far worse than what any single anti-venom potion could heal anyhow. What could she do? Her mind simply wouldn't allow her to think clearly.

Hermione hurried to Severus and shook him violently with all her might. Hermione had gotten them this far and Severus was still with her, though his breathing was strained and there was an overt struggle throughout every part of him to fight off death. But Hermione wouldn't give up now, even if her lover did. If their roles were reversed, she knew with every fiber of her being that Severus would _never, ever_ give up trying to save her and that gave her pause, but only for a second.

"SEVERUS!" she shrieked urgently, her voice echoing in the lonely, foreboding air. "PLEASE! _HELP ME!_"

When the man she loved said nothing in return, Hermione lost her already fragile composure. She fell in a heap beside him and buried her face in his hair, wailing uncontrollably. Severus's head bobbed back and forth against hers, as his body continued to attempt warding off the venom that coursed through his veins, shutting down his organs one by one. Hermione knew it was only a matter of moments, and then Severus would truly be gone, lost to her forever. She was so close now, but had no clue where to go from here.

Hermione clung to him in desperation, wanting nothing more than to feel his weight against her, to smell his familiar scent, though his blood was too overpowering to her senses now, and the sheer panic of his last moments overtook any calculated awareness she previously had. Hermione began to kiss Severus despairingly, her lips moving from his cheeks to his lips and all around his face in a frantic, passionate motion. All the while, she sobbed, her mouth quivering against Severus's skin. It was critical to Hermione that, if these were to be Severus's last moments, that he knew, somehow, that she was with him, loving him, caressing him, and that she wouldn't let him die alone.

As Hermione planted another anguished kiss on Severus's trembling lips, she felt him push back ever so gently, and her wet eyes shot open. Though he was still very much striving for consciousness, Severus had managed to give something back to her. His eyes bore into hers again with the same intensity they had shared together at the Shrieking Shack, and Severus fought with every ounce of his being to speak, his breathing quickening as he tried to formulate an important message.

"Her...mi...one..." he rasped with difficulty.

"Yes?" Hermione pleaded, the tears streaming from her eyes. "I'm here, Severus. I'm here!"

"Dra - draughts..." he mumbled, his throat gurgling with fresh blood that dripped from his stained cravat.

Hermione's eyes grew more excited, knowing Severus had actually heard her pleas for his assistance, and she lovingly stroked his cheek, which was turning blue and felt disturbingly cold to the touch. "Yes? Where is it, Severus? Where?"

"A - Ant - ti...d - dote..." Severus wheezed, his stark eyelashes fluttering several times. "Be - Be - zoar... Blo - Blood...Re - Replesh..."

A flicker of realization danced across Hermione's frantic eyes, followed by horror at her grave errors. Her mind had truly run away from her when faced with watching Severus dying and her normally logical brain had been wiped, replaced by nothing but sorrow at the potentiality of losing him. She had completely lost sight of at least trying something simple.

_Of course! Hermione, you stupid fool!_ she screamed silently.

Hermione nodded her head emphatically in understanding, but Severus seemed so far away, though he was still attempting to reach out beyond the darkness. His eyes grew lifeless again, overtaken by the poison running through him at a terrible speed. He jerked unexpectedly and flinched, shutting his eyes against what, she could only determine, was unspeakable pain.

"All right," Hermione whimpered, biting her lip. "All right. Just relax. I'll get them. _Hang on!_"

Hermione stumbled to her feet and whisked her body around, extending her arm into the air and flicking her wand with her wrist. "_Accio antidote!_"

A phial of the potion instantly flew down from the second shelf across from her, and Hermione seized it, watching the rest of the supply jolt subtly at her command. She knew that if Severus were conscious and fully himself, he would be far from pleased at any student meddling with his supplies, including her.

"_Accio bezoar!_"

One of them, a stone rather than a phial, shot at her from a cupboard to her right. She grabbed it as the cupboard shook for a moment before settling and becoming still once more.

"_Accio Blood-Replenishing Potion!_"

It sprung down to her from a shelf several feet up, which she would never have found on her own or without magic, and Hermione jumped to catch it. Her hands now contained the three objects she required, and she made a mad dash to Severus and threw them down beside him. She was, at first, unsure why Severus requested both the antidote and the bezoar, since normally one or the other would have sufficed, but the answer came to her as soon as the question entered her mind. This was, as she already suspected, much worse than any regular venom.

Hermione uncorked the antidote and lifted Severus's head towards her. The weight of his head against her palm felt dense, and she moaned quietly at the terrible reality that he could no longer lift or shift any part of himself. He was completely helpless and dependent upon her.

"Here, take this," she demanded softly, propping the phial against Severus's mouth.

Severus's bluish lips parted, allowing Hermione to pour the liquid down his throat. He reacted instantly, his coughs violent and disturbing to her ears. She forced some composure and grabbed the bezoar off the floor, bringing it to Severus's mouth. She waited for his harsh coughs to subside.

"Here, Severus."

He obeyed her command and swallowed the goat stone, but struggled to get it down. The holes in his neck made doing so difficult, and the venom had already been inflaming his throat for some time. Hermione panicked, watching Severus choke as the bezoar lodged in his throat. Without thinking, she reached two fingers into the back of his mouth to try to ease it down, praying he wouldn't gag. Luckily, he didn't, though his eyes shot open momentarily at the unfamiliar movement in his mouth. When it was finally down his throat, Hermione withdrew her fingers and waited for some sort of sign, but nothing happened immediately as she had hoped.

_Merlin, please_, Hermione pleaded, her mind reaching the point of hysteria. _Please! This _has_ to work!_

Hermione took the last phial and forced Severus to drink it. He winced in agony and closed his eyes, weakly turning his head away from her. He looked like he wanted to cry out but simply couldn't.

"Let...me...die..." Severus suddenly begged, clenching his jaw and breathing hard.

Hermione drew back in fright at his words. "_NO!_" she shrieked, taking his face in her bloody palms again. "Don't talk like that, Severus! Hang on! Do you hear me?"

Severus tried to lift his hand to take Hermione's arm, but he simply couldn't do so. The venom had left him virtually paralyzed. Hermione noticed his failed attempt to touch her and snatched his hand in her grasp, bringing it to her chest to clutch tightly.

_His hand is so cold_, she thought frantically as she locked eyes with him, bewildered and more afraid than she had ever felt in her life.

"Herm...i...one..." Severus murmured, his voice very hoarse and unlike its usual forceful tone.

"Yes, Severus?" she whispered back, holding back her tears as best she could but failing miserably. "What do you need? What can I do?"

"Wa - wand...sweet...heart... My - My w - wand..."

Hermione did as he asked. She searched the front pockets of his robes when she heard him give a slight tug and grunt. She turned to him for guidance.

"No... Coat...pock - et..."

Hermione threw back Severus's robes and traced the lines of his coat, normally so firm and robust, now terribly crumpled and feeble. It was offset by a pool of wet blood soaking the front of the fabric, including the countless attractive buttons that trailed down his chest. _She loved those buttons..._

Hermione's fingers suddenly wrapped around Severus's wand, which felt elusively strong and mighty in her grasp, but she managed to suppress the inviting tingles that pulsated through her fingers and pulled it from his pocket. She had no clue what Severus wanted her to do with it, and she swallowed hard at the prospect of using the instrument that was not her own.

Then, to Hermione's surprise, Severus took his hand out of hers. His arm collapsed onto his lap. She glanced down to find Severus's hand face-up and outstretched to her, his fingers shaking uncontrollably, asking for the instrument Hermione was holding. She hesitated, unsure whether to hand it over or not as he was hardly in the right condition to use it. What on earth did Severus expect to do with it when he could hardly catch his breath, let alone talk?

Hermione reluctantly placed the wand in Severus's trembling hand, enveloping both of her palms around his to help him maintain a firm grip on it, and Severus gave a slight stir, acknowledging the familiar wood that was now clasped in his hand with Hermione's aid. He gradually inched his hand upward and directed the wand towards his neck.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock as she watched Severus on the verge of uttering some broken incantation, one that would surely backfire as all spells did if not spoken properly, and she reached for the wand, grabbing it in one fell swoop. "Severus!" she implored. "What are you doing? You can't possibly—"

"Then...y - you...ha - have...t - to..." he rasped, straining to form each word.

Hermione nodded several times in response, letting the tortured wizard know that she would follow his lead. "What healing spell, Severus?" she asked, stuffing Severus's wand back into his pocket and taking hers out again. She aimed it at him, just as he had tried to moments before, and gave his right shoulder a gentle rub, coaxing him to try and speak, though it pained her greatly to hear him struggling so hard to breathe.

"_Vul - Vulnera...San - en - tur..._"

"Of course," Hermione whispered, her eyes turning away from Severus's to his blood-soaked neck and torso.

The notion that Severus required such an incantation in addition to all of the medicine she had just administered increased her concerns, but she tried to put her worry out of her mind. Hermione knew such a powerful spell would require all of her concentration, and she was already quite emotionally vulnerable.

"P - Please...H - Hermi...one... Pl - Please—"

Hermione hushed him with her hand delicately placed over his still quivering lips. "It's all right, Severus. Hang on. I'll do it."

Severus gave a low groan and Hermione bit her lip, her brow furrowed. She had never done this spell before; she tried to empty her mind of the countless emotional disturbances she was experiencing and issue it with a clear head.

When she felt her self-control was entirely her own again, Hermione opened her eyes and leaned into Severus with her wand aimed at the open gashes on his neck. She began reciting the spell in counts of threes, almost like a song, just as Severus had done once to the back of her head, and was stunned at the results it produced. The puncture wounds on Severus's neck began to close up, so Hermione moved down to his chest, which was still heaving in an unsteady, rapid motion.

"_Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur._"

A few additional snake bites that had punctured Severus's lungs began to shrink. She could hear some sort of slinking or shifting underneath his clothes and took it as a positive omen that the spell was working effectively.

Severus let out another small cry as Hermione tucked her wand away. Though the various potions as well as the spell were starting to show evidence of their effects, he was still hardly out of danger, only just, and Hermione settled in beside him, anxiously waiting and praying that the medicines and incantation would start to do their work.

She leaned against the wall beside him and gently pulled Severus toward her, folding her arms carefully around his waist. Severus grumbled in a hushed, meaningful tone that Hermione recognized. She felt the top of his head press into her left shoulder and underneath her chin, wanting to feel that she was, in fact, there.

"It's all right," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to ward off fresh tears. "It's all right, Severus. I'm here. I won't leave you."

"You must," Severus growled, his voice a little stronger than before.

Hermione's body tensed up, recognizing the slight improvement in his afflictions, but also in response to the words he had said. She stared down at the weak, extremely pale wizard in her arms and the tears in her eyes fell again.

All of the blood that had soaked his robes was practically gone and his breathing, though still quite labored, was not nearly as bad as it had been before. Severus's eyes were shut, but she could sense that he was growing increasingly more conscious. The relief at seeing a change in Severus's condition brought such alleviation to Hermione's nerves that her response poured out in waves, tears of relief. She kissed Severus's forehead and felt him rouse at her contact ever so slightly. When she was able to compose her sobs, she finally responded.

"Are you crazy, Severus? I'm not leaving you now, not with the current state you're in. I won't. I can't!"

"Hermione," Severus urged softly, his silky voice cracked but returning, "you ha - have done all you can f - for me... Now leave me be. P - Potter and Weasley need you now..."

Flashes of her two best friends flickered through Hermione's mind, and instant panic returned to her already heightened nerves. Were they all right? Had they destroyed the snake yet?

Hermione groaned aloud, her mind and body torn. Though she was terribly concerned for Harry and Ron, Severus was the person she loved, even more than them, and there was still the very real chance he might die. She couldn't possibly leave him. She had to stay.

"I - I can't leave you," she whimpered, sniveling and squeezing him tighter. She heard him moan, but was unsure if it was in acceptance or protest, until he spoke again.

"You aren't le - leaving me... You're going to do - do what is right... P - Potter and the others n - need you, Hermione. There's too much at stake..."

"But Sev—"

"Please," he implored, letting out another intense coughing fit that shook his entire body. Hermione braced herself against him, not letting go, and instead seized him tighter against the threatening ailment that was attacking him. "Please, Hermione... The Hor - Horcruxes... The D - Dark Lord... It will all end tonight. You have to - to go... You have to do what you can...f - for Harry..."

Hermione froze. She had never heard Severus address her friend by his first name before, and when he did, there was none of the former animosity or spite she had come to expect. Rather, there was a respect that bordered on affection; or was that her imagination?

She gulped, afraid to ask a pressing question that had been on her worried mind for months, something she had wanted to ask Severus a long time ago, when the idea first entered her head. "Harry," she breathed faintly. "Is he..."

"Yes," Severus answered, reading her mind. "He is...the last one..."

Hermione couldn't get air, and her body tensed up around Severus. Though he was still quite ill, Severus picked up on the stiffness in Hermione's embrace. When she didn't say anything, Severus fought to speak again to offer the only comforting words he could muster.

"I'm...so sorry, Hermione... Go to him... Be with him...before he - he's gone... Go..."

Hermione's heart lodged in her throat again. She was hardly in the right frame of mind at the present, her tears continuing to flow down her cheeks. They were growing worse at the prospect of leaving Severus behind to join her friends, to help Harry, her best friend, whom she was about to lose for good. She knew Severus was right, she _had_ to go, but her guilt was overpowering her will to move.

Hermione's voice broke amidst her sobs. "But...but what about you?"

To her surprise, Severus's head shifted and she peered down to find him looking up at her. His raven eyes were weary, drained, and still fighting the poison ravaging his body.

"If I'm correct," he breathed laboriously, "the t - tonics, the spell, and the trails of ant - anti-venom I've taken for the pa - past few months should do the trick..."

Hermione's watery eyes expanded, her mouth dropping in a gasp. "You mean— _Anti-venom?_ It's in your system?"

"The p - potion found from t - two years ago, yes..."

"Severus, you... You knew this would happen?"

To her even greater astonishment, Severus managed a very feeble smile, although it shifted into a grimace of pain before long. Hermione reacted and tightened her arms around him, gripping him close.

"I ha - had my suspicions... I thought it best to be - be prepared for the possibility..."

Hermione sighed heavily, hardly able to believe it. She surveyed his condition, which was relatively the same as a few minutes prior, though much improved from when he had first taken the draughts she forced down his throat. She still wasn't entirely convinced that he would make it, judging by his incessant, loud wheezing, and the small jolts his body made every so often, reacting to the combination of venom versus medicine battling within, its outcome unknown.

It only made the torment of Hermione's dilemma worse. If she left now and returned to find Severus dead, she would never, ever forgive herself. And yet, Harry was going to die for sure. She _had_ to say goodbye. He was her best friend in the whole world.

It was all so unfair. Why couldn't she be there for both of them? Why did being with one mean sacrificing the other?

"I'll be fine, Herm - Hermione," Severus offered comfortingly, mindful of her tortured thoughts again, for he couldn't help himself. "Go on..."

Hermione hesitated, and then, as if some gravitational force were pulling her away from the man she loved, she withdrew her firm embrace and carefully placed Severus against the wall. She eyed him attentively, growing more relieved at his slow, steady improvements, though he still looked far too sick to be left alone.

Her caramel eyes bore into his, pleading with him, begging that he withdraw his commands that she walk away, possibly for good. The notion was killing her, and she needed some sort of reassurance in order to will herself to move.

"Go on," Severus murmured as encouragingly as he could, wincing slightly, "I'll be here wh - when this is all over... I w - won't leave you, Hermione... I promise..."

Hermione whimpered again before leaning in to kiss him urgently. He responded, closing his eyes, trying to enjoy and savor her caress, though the scorching pangs throughout his body were so agonizing that he could barely concentrate.

When their lips finally parted, Hermione let out a mournful sob. "I love you," she cried, clinging to his robes, not at all wanting to let go.

Severus opened his eyes and an unexpected sense of serenity swept over him, his entire being calming at hearing the three simple words Hermione had uttered. "I love you, too...sweetheart... Be care - careful... Please..."

"Always am," she tried to say lightly, but it wasn't to be. Stroking his cheek one last night, and relieved to feel some warmth radiating from his skin, she kissed him again one last time. "I love you more." Standing up, though still hunched over, Hermione squeezed his hand. "I'll be back, Severus. _Hang on_. I'll be back as soon as I can."

With that, Hermione's hand fell out of his, and it toppled onto his thigh and never moved. Severus vaguely heard Hermione's footsteps as they darted away, leaving the space eerily quiet, although he could still hear the loud echoes of what was happening several floors above him.

Severus fought hard to stay awake. For a short while whilst Hermione was present, he had felt a little better, even believing that his condition might slowly but surely be improving. But soon after she left, Severus's already frail condition nose-dived, and quite rapidly.

Severus was confused, not sure what was going wrong, but couldn't reflect much on the possibilities. He was simply in too much pain, fast losing the will to fight, and tired. _So tired._

_No..._

Severus thrashed his head back and forth against the unspeakable pains shooting through him and all but cried out; his voice was too hoarse to make much of a sound. Did he even have a voice anymore? He had never experienced anything like this physical torment before in his life. It seemed to have manifested all over again, only it was worse than before. Much worse. Despite the tonics, despite the spell, despite Hermione's best efforts to keep him alive, something was terribly wrong. Severus couldn't account for why, but he was losing consciousness.

Just before he succumbed to the darkness closing in on him, Severus made one last attempt to muster the ability to move, to cry for help, to do something to save himself. But he couldn't. He couldn't lift a finger or make a noise or even gather the energy to use any ounce of his own magic.

He was dying. This was it; the end he had always feared, despite thinking at one time that this was all he ever wanted.

_No... Please... I can't die here... No... Hermione... I need... Hermione..._

* * *

The Boy Who Lived had survived a second brush with death. But there were many others who weren't so fortunate that night. Lupin and Tonks were gone, as was Fred and a number of other students, and Hermione was left rattled and shaken, along with everyone else, over what they had experienced and narrowly escaped.

Voldemort was dead. The evil psychopath who had been responsible for so much death, destruction, and oppression was no more. It was a harder reality to grasp than any of them considered. It felt too good to be true.

Hermione, however, had no time to celebrate with the mass that had gathered in the Great Hall, all trying to come to terms with the reality that they had just won the war. It was over. And Harry, Ron, and the majority of Hermione's friends had made it through; _they were alive_.

As soon as Hermione met up with Harry and Ron to ensure that her two closest friends were all right, she turned away from them just as quickly. Befuddled, both boys ran after her in haste.

"'Mione, where are you going!" Ron called, as he and Harry chased her down to a spiral staircase that would lead to the dungeons. The castle was in ruins, but they all willfully ignored it. "'Mione, wait! Where are you going?"

Hermione swiftly twirled herself around to face them. "I have to help Severus!"

"Severus?" Ron's blue eyes went wild, and his mouth fell to the floor. She had referred to the Death Eater on a first name basis again, and that, in itself, was strange. "Wha..."

"Is he... Is he alive?" Harry interrupted, closing in on her with an expression that wasn't at all reminiscent of the past when he spoke of the Slytherin Head of House. To Hermione's surprise, he looked relatively concerned.

"He was when I left him." Hermione cut herself off, as a lump formed in the back of her throat. The prospect of what she might find down in the dungeons was now at the forefront of her mind, and she was both anxious and dreading to get down there.

"What the— I don't understand," Ron griped, giving them both a very confused look over. "What the bloody hell's going on? Why did you call him Severus? Why are you going down there, 'Mione?"

"Because there's a chance I can save his life!" she snapped. She hastily turned around and ran down the spiral staircase with Harry and Ron close at her heel, though she didn't care whether they followed her or not.

"'Mione, wait!" Harry sprinted forward to catch up with her whilst Ron lagged behind, struggling to keep up. "Did you give him something?"

"Antidote, bezoar, Blood Replenishing Potion, and I used an incantation," she huffed, quickening her pace.

"Shouldn't that be enough?" Harry was surprised to hear just how much medicine the professor had been given.

"It's Nagini. I don't know if it's enough. That snake was something else entirely!"

"What about what Mr. Weasley was given—"

"That's what I thought, but he was working on an improved antidote. I guess the original was faulty. I'm not sure."

"_Can someone please tell me what the hell's going on?_" Ron barked, panting as they reached Severus's old potions storage room.

Hermione's legs came to an abrupt halt once she came to the doorway. Severus was exactly where she had left him, only something was frightfully wrong. Not only were his eyes closed and his body slouched against the wall, but he wasn't moving. At all. He didn't even stir at their oncoming loud footsteps or appear to be breathing.

Hermione's heart pounded in a manner that had nothing to do with the exercise she had just gotten. "Severus?" Hermione ran into the frigid room and kneeled down beside him. "Severus? _Severus!_"

She shook him violently, but to no end. He didn't so much as flinch. Hermione ran her hands over his face, alarmed by the sharp coldness she felt.

"He's freezing!"

_No. Not dead. No. NO!_

Hermione started to shake him again when she heard it. Subtle, but extremely strenuous breathing, followed by a low moan. The rest of him, however, was perfectly still.

"Harry, please!"

She turned to her two friends, who had entered the room but were standing back, watching her embracing the professor again in a way that she shouldn't be. Ron looked dumbfounded, not quite sure what to make of the scene unfolding before him. Harry, on the other hand, was solemn and reserved, but not quite shocked. Perhaps he was just numb.

Her best friend rushed forward and crouched down beside her. His green eyes scanned the ailing, dark figure who had displayed such animosity towards him in the past, but something was different now in the way the young man regarded him. There wasn't much resentment in Harry's eyes anymore, only general confusion mixed with curiosity and genuine concern. When he extended his hand out and pressed it to Severus's cheek, Hermione all but gasped; it was something she hadn't ever expected him to do.

"You're right; he's very cold," Harry concurred quietly.

"We - We have to get him to Madam Pomfrey. Maybe she can do something."

Harry turned to her with a furrowed brow. "'Mione, she probably won't do anything because of... Well, you know. And everyone else up there—"

"_I don't care!_"

That silenced the matter. Harry nodded and turned to Ron, who was still standing back, befuddled as all hell.

"Ron, transfigure a gurney for us! We have to get him upstairs. We can levitate him on the gurney so that he's more comfortable and stable."

"Wha..."

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Ron, _just do as Harry says!_" Hermione snapped at him, flustered and distraught beyond measure to care what the ginger was thinking.

Ron gave her a severe scowl, and then set to transfiguring the gurney as instructed. Harry scooted around Hermione to the opposite side of Severus and bent over the Potions Master with care.

"C'mon, 'Mione."

He looped one of Severus's limp arms around his neck, and Hermione did likewise, casting the levitation spell to help make the task easier, careful so as not to turn her wand away from Severus's body at any given moment. Once they had the unresponsive wizard hoisted onto the gurney, Harry levitated it and, together, he and Hermione made a mad dash out of the storage room and back towards the spiraling staircase.

Ron lagged behind, scratching his head with his eyebrows tapered in bafflement over the whole situation. He watched as Hermione gripped one of Severus's pale hands, the other rubbing gently at his shoulder.

"Wake up, Severus," she kept whispering repeatedly, each time with more emphasis than the last. "Please wake up, love."

_'Love'?_ Ron abruptly stopped in his tracks and stared on as the pair of them went on ahead towards the Great Hall where Madam Pomfrey was assisting others who were wounded. _Why were they helping the man? Why was 'Mione so concerned? What on earth..._ The realization hit the young man like a sucker punch to the stomach, and his face went bright red. _She's in love with him. 'Mione's in love with... Professor Snape?_

Harry and Hermione had no idea that Ron had fallen behind and hurried into the Great Hall, where they were met with several audible gasps, small shouts of protests, curious gossiping, and gawking, wide eyes. Many who were sitting in an attempt to recoup shot to their feet, but Hermione willed herself to ignore them all. To her continued surprise, Harry did, too.

Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey came scurrying over, both looking just as bewildered as everyone else in the room. "Potter, Miss Granger," McGonagall greeted tentatively before her eyes fell upon the unconscious, extremely pallid figure of Severus. Her stern mouth cast into a deep frown as she quickly surveyed his grave condition. "What is going—"

"Professor," Harry interrupted, his voice filled with urgency, "we need Madam Pomfrey's aid. Severus Snape, he... He's dying. Hermione administered some tonics to him a few hours ago, but they haven't done anything for him."

"Wha - What happened to him?" the elderly witch stammered in a rare form of being at a loss for words.

"Nagini," Hermione answered, doing her best not to choke up in front of everyone; she continued to clutch Severus's hand, not aware of her public display or caring either way what people might be thinking. He wasn't at all responsive to her touch. "He was bitten terribly, and the venom, I think... I think it's still in his system."

"Miss Granger, this man—" McGonagall began cautiously, but it was not Hermione who cut her off, but Harry.

"Professor, it's not what you think." McGonagall eyed Harry curiously and with evident doubtfulness. "He's not what we all thought he was. He... He's not guilty of the things we've blamed him for. I... I know this all sounds crazy right now, and I'm sure you're all wondering how that could be. I'll explain it to you when I can, but for now, we _need_ to save his life. Please..."

McGonagall reared back and fell silent along with the rest of the crowd. Harry's good word seemed to be all Madam Pomfrey needed to hear, and without further hesitation, she scurried around McGonagall to get to Severus. She bent over the levitated gurney to test the man's vital signs as everyone watched in a stunned silence.

"What did you give him, Miss Granger?" the Mediwitch asked, running her hands over Severus's face, bitten neck, chest, and arms.

"Antidote, bezoar, Blood Replenishing Potion, and he had me cast _Vulnera Sanentur_, which soaked up most of the blood."

"And that didn't all work?" She seemed visibly shaken by that news.

Hermione shook her head solemnly, her eyes clearly frightened. She waited nervously for the Mediwitch's diagnosis, which came after an agonizingly long moment. The aged woman's face went a shade whiter, the wrinkles along her features making her appear even older than usual. She raised her head, her eyes glancing from Hermione to Harry and back again.

"This is quite serious. He's in terrible, terrible shape. I... I'm surprised he's still alive, actually..."

"Can you do something?" Hermione begged, squeezing Severus's hand tighter, as her heart pounded against her chest.

"I'm afraid this is beyond my capabilities, Miss Granger," she issued gravely, overtly distressed at not being able to handle the situation herself. "He'll need to be taken to St. Mungo's. _Immediately_."

* * *

**A/N #2: Time for the _real_ battle in this story to begin. Many, in fact...**


	42. Hanging On

**A/N: Somewhat of an early update, and thus begins several very unpleasant chapters... Um, followed by several more, but all with bits of humor and goodies wedged in between, I promise. _The unpleasantness is necessary_, and I may be repeating that a lot, but, well, it's the nature of this portion of the story. Unfortunately, just because the war has ended doesn't mean the battle's over.  
**

**__****Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 42: Hanging On**

The bright lights were a bother, but then Severus couldn't see much of anything anyhow. All he could think about was the excruciating, god-awful pains throughout his body. It felt as if he were being attacked from every angle, like someone had set a match to his very skin whilst simultaneously clawing and gnawing at his insides, ripping them to shreds piece by piece.

This was possibly worse than death. It _had_ to be. _No, it was._

Severus wanted to cry out, to beg for release, to plead to be put out of his misery, but every time he opened his mouth, nothing came; or was he even opening his mouth at all? He couldn't move, for one. His body was paralyzed. And he couldn't see much of anything either. Was he even alive?

_Hermione... I need... Hermione..._

The jolts of electric shocks scorching through every fiber of his being made him want to shriek at the top of his lungs; he didn't care if it meant a complete loss of control, or if it made him appear weak and vulnerable anymore. He no longer gave a damn. The pain was simply too much to bear.

Severus had thought he _was_ shouting and had been for some time; it certainly felt that way. But then why did his cries of pain seem to fall on deaf ears?

_THE P - PAIN! NO MORE! IT - IT HURTS! PLEASE! GOD ALMIGHTY! MAKE IT ST - STOP!_

There was a general buzzing in his ears, but Severus had no idea if it was voices surrounding him or environmental stimuli. Why wasn't anyone here? Why couldn't someone just put him to rest already? He couldn't live like this. He couldn't possibly withstand this any longer.

_KILL ME! PL - PLEASE! I CAN'T— IT BURNS; IT BURNS SO FUCKING BAD! MAKE IT STOP! KILL M - ME! NOW!_

He vaguely heard his name a handful of times but couldn't be sure if that was just his mind hallucinating or not. Where was Hermione? She had said she would come back. She promised she wouldn't leave him.

_Hermione... Pl - Please! PLEASE H - HELP ME! DEAR GOD, HELP ME!_

Every so often something warm and soothing brushed his face. Was someone touching him? No... He was dying, and he was all alone. This was what he deserved, wasn't it? Even in the end, he wouldn't be permitted to see her face just one last time.

_One last time..._

Was his flesh actually melting? He was screaming because of it; surely, someone would hear him. The terrible throbbing in his head was unbearable, too, and Severus was certain his head was going to burst soon if something wasn't done to remedy his afflictions. Every few minutes an electric current swept through him that _had_ to be a form of electrocution or the Cruciatus Curse, one of the two. Either way, it was splitting him in half, slowly but surely...

_What a horrendous way to die_, his mind reflected for the briefest moment before the pain overpowered his will to think.

Suddenly, something was flowing through him he couldn't quite comprehend, until everything started to go pitch black all over again, just as it had several times before. Severus soon lost complete consciousness.

_Relief_, he sighed, though only in his head, as nothingness finally took over. _Death... Peace... At last..._

* * *

Hermione made her way down one of the bustling wards at St. Mungo's with Harry close on her heel. Severus had been shuffled off to a group of Healers-in-training as soon as they entered the hospital and was switched onto one of their much sturdier gurneys that was levitated in the air.

Hermione kept pace with them as Severus, still unconscious and unmoving, was wheeled down a long, narrow hallway. Hermione could sense a general buzzing around her but couldn't concentrate on what was going on. She had tunnel vision and could only focus on the helpless individual lying unresponsive in front of her: Severus.

She sensed people recognizing Hogwarts' former Headmaster as she and the group passed them by, undoubtedly shocked and, more than likely, curious as to why he was still alive or who would be willing to help the traitor now. But Hermione also knew many were gawking at Harry; the Chosen One—the boy who had vanquished the Dark Lord less than an hour ago—who was now following Severus Snape's seemingly lifeless body down the crowded corridor, focused on wherever the man was being taken.

Hermione wasn't even sure how they got to the cramped room they ended up in, but Severus was handed off to a row of different people she didn't recognize, and Hermione pushed her way past them all to get to Severus's side and stand guard. Even if he were to die—and her frantic mind couldn't formulate that possibility just yet—she didn't trust anyone of them. For all she knew, they would hurry it along, and she wasn't about to give up on him, even if the rest of the world already had.

Hermione snatched up Severus's hand and refused to move, forcing several Healers to maneuver around her to do whatever was expected of them. A few times she was prompted to "get out of the way," but the glare she shot anyone who tried to push her away made them quickly give up and simply work around the stubborn witch.

_Hang on, Severus!_ she kept issuing, either aloud or through Legilimency, praying against hope she might reach him. _It's Hermione. I'm here, Severus. Please hang on. Do you hear me? I'm right here._

Hermione quickly lost track of time. Frantic Healers in lime green robes rushed in out of the room at various points, scooting around her or pulling at Severus's slacken arms, face, and chest. Medical spells were cast, diagnostic incantations were issued, tonics, healing ointments, and all sorts of efforts were made to stabilize the wanted wizard in question, but not much progress was being made.

The snake bites—though closed up by Hermione's efforts—were still prominent, scarred over, and the skin all around them was turning blue, as were his lips. It was an alarming sight, and if Hermione hadn't been holding his hand or had her fingers placed near his wrist, she would have thought Severus had no pulse at all.

"Severus, please," she urged for the umpteenth time later that day, leaning in close to his face, as a Healer-in-training cast another series of diagnostic spells to view his vital signs, "hang on... It... It's Hermione. I... I'm here."

Harry at some point early on had disappeared out of the room. Hermione had no idea where he went off to, and she was too preoccupied to pay attention. Yes, she was alone, but this was where she needed to be.

The hours turned into nearly a full day, by which time Severus was moved to a more comfortable room with a window that let in some natural light, though it was now dark. Severus's infamous robes and frock coat were removed and replaced by a hospital nightgown that, to Hermione, wasn't much better than one might find in a Muggle hospital.

The snake bites were as visible as ever and not bandaged, as they needed to be checked routinely for any signs of infection or changes to his overall condition. Hermione hated seeing them but couldn't seem to divert her eyes from them either. After all, they were the very reason Severus was in the bad state that he was.

Hermione curled up in a sofa chair next to Severus's bed and stayed put, never moving or removing her hand from his. She had been holding his hand for so long now that her palms were sweaty and her fingers throbbed from grasping so tightly, but she didn't care.

One of the Healers who took over Severus's case midday was a person Hermione vaguely recognized, though she hadn't placed him so far: Augustus Pye. By the end of the night, it finally dawned on the young witch that he had been the Healer-in-training only two years prior when Mr. Weasley was bitten by Nagini. The good-looking fellow, in his mid to late twenties with curly, blonde locks and kindhearted eyes, was now an official Healer, no longer a trainee, and made his rounds to Severus's bedside a number of times in the short span that she and Severus had been there. He seemed to have recognized her as well.

Sometime late in the evening, Hermione succumbed to her own exhaustion and fell asleep on Severus's chest, and it was the young Healer who woke her when he came in to the room around midnight to check Severus's vital signs, trying to be discrete as he did so. Hermione's tired eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and her hand, still holding Severus's, tightened inadvertently.

"My apologies, Miss Granger," said the Healer respectfully. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," Hermione mumbled, keeping her attention on Severus.

She reached out to whisk a few straggly hairs out of his closed eyes; he looked surprisingly serene considering the hell he had been through, and that brought Hermione some comfort for the moment, even if it was fractional.

Augustus lingered once he was through with his series of diagnostic tests, jotting down a few notes with his quill on a chart that undoubtedly had to be Severus's. When his note-taking was complete, he peered down at the young witch curiously. Her eyes were glazed over and half shut, her clothes were grubby and torn, and her face was battered from the battle that had concluded not even twenty-four hours ago.

Augustus's mouth creased into a concerned frown. "You should rest, Miss Granger." Hermione blinked, dazed, and finally tore her eyes away from Severus to peer up at him. "Master Snape is stable, for now. Myself or one of the Mediwitches will alert you if there are any changes."

_Yeah, right_, Hermione thought but refrained from saying so out loud.

"Thank you... But I'm going to stay awake for a while."

Hermione turned her head away from him to gaze again at her lover, her energy depleted but her decision resolute. Augustus placed Severus's chart aside—into the air where it hovered—and furrowed his brow.

"The venom is tricky." His voice was delicate and cautious as he spoke, and he could tell Hermione was listening intently, even if she wasn't giving him her attention. "I won't deny to you, Miss Granger, that his condition is _very_ serious... The bites, they're nothing like Arthur Weasley's were. This is something altogether craftier; much more combative and cunning. We've never seen anything like it before. I must tell you, it's putting up one hell of a fight..."

Hermione didn't speak right away, instead only stared at the unresponsive, pale face of the professor. Her free hand reached out to stroke his cheek whilst her opposite thumb rubbed at the inside of his palm. She brought the hand she was holding to her chest and kept it there.

"Will he make it?"

Augustus Pye's silence was all the hesitation Hermione needed to confirm her worst fears. She turned to him again, only this time her tired eyes were fraught with worry, locked on the Healer who held Severus's life in his hands.

"I don't know, Miss Granger," Augustus whispered as gently as he could. "His condition is quite critical. If he can pull through the next few days, we_ might_ have something by then to combat whatever this Dark Magic is. As it is, we're in search of another series of antidotes. Until then, I'm afraid it may be very touch and go."

"Will you..." Hermione stopped to steady her voice. "Will you help him?"

Augustus's light eyebrows came together, confused. "Yes, Miss Granger. Of course. I will do whatever I can—"

"_Will you help him?_"

The urgency and desperation was apparent, but there was also a heavier glimmer of skepticism, even with the grime covering Hermione's face, that took the Healer aback. It was then that he realized what she was really asking of him: would he let Severus Snape die—knowing who the man was—or would he truly try to save his life?

"Miss Granger," he leaned against the gurney, his handsome face eying hers thoughtfully, "Master Snape is my patient, and I intend to do whatever I can to help him. That is my job."

"You're certain?" Her chin was starting to buckle under the fear she was trying to keep in check. "You're certain you wouldn't be content to..." Hermione swallowed hard but refused to look away. "To just let him die?"

Without a hint of reluctance, Augustus came back at her with a firm shake of his head. "No, Miss Granger,_ I won't_." He paused, his patient eyes searching hers. "All life is precious. It's not my job to determine who's worthy of living or not. What_ is_ my job is to heal and provide the best possible care that I can to whoever comes through these doors. _That_ I can promise you..."

Hermione was finding it increasingly difficult not to lose her composure. So far, she had stayed strong, in a numbed sort of shock, but the events of the past twenty-four hours were starting to trickle into her weary conscience. It had been such a whirlwind—all of it—but very real. Up until now, she had barely had time to pause or think properly. The reality of Severus's situation, however—and of her own, too—was finally catching up with her in the late hours of the night.

Hermione bit down on her lower lip in a desperate attempt to suppress her want to cry. "He's not a monster," she stammered, hardly able to get her words out. She was grateful when the Healer's kind expression didn't falter. "He's not... He's not what everyone thinks he is. He isn't—"

"I know, Miss Granger."

Hermione's brow crinkled, surprised. "You - You do?"

A compassionate smile formed across the man's mouth that matched his twinkling, blue eyes. "Yes. Mr. Potter informed me a few hours ago when I volunteered to take on his case."

_Volunteered?_ That brought a wounded pang to Hermione's chest._ So nobody wants to help him..._

"I believe Mr. Potter wanted to ensure that I and those who work under me weren't going to sabotage the poor man's life. That's _not_ my politics, Miss Granger. That's _not_ how I operate in my ward—allowing my personal beliefs to define how I practice. I'm _not_ here to pass judgment on any one of my patients. My only goal is to _help_ and to _heal_.

"I confess though, I'm grateful Mr. Potter told me a little bit about... Well, about some of what Master Snape has done. It will certainly make my dealings with those who question my professional ethics and efforts going forward a hell of a lot easier to handle."

"So then... Nobody, aside from you, wanted to help him?"

Augustus studied Hermione for a moment, his face turning somewhat grim and more reserved. "I'm afraid not, Miss Granger. People are... Very upset and distraught right now. That's all. It will wear off soon; people will come to their senses."

It was a long time before Hermione could manage to speak. She wanted to cry, really, but was too fatigued and worn down now to make the effort. She peered up at Augustus with the most appreciative expression she could muster.

"Tha - Thank you, sir," she whispered, her voice mangled with hurt. "_Thank you_."

The Healer's smile returned, which Hermione could hardly believe. "You're welcome. And I'm Augustus, by the way. Augustus Pye. I introduced myself to you earlier today but you were - understandably - preoccupied."

"I... Oh. Yes, I - I guess I was. I'm sorry, Healer Pye."

"Don't be. And call me Augustus, please. I'd prefer it. I was the Healer-in-training who worked with Mr. Weasley two years ago; you might remember? I'm familiar and well versed in the treatment of snake bites, so there are a number of methods we will continue to try to help Master Snape until a cure can be found."

_A cure... But..._

Hermione gulped. "Severus... He was looking for a better antidote to combat Nagini's venom, but he never discovered it."

Augustus looked relatively surprised by that. "Oh? He was looking for one?"

"Yes, I helped him with some of his research for a while, but he wasn't finding the right combination. I believe he came close once or twice, but they ultimately failed."

"I see..."

Hermione could tell the Healer was thinking about something; she could only pray he wasn't more worried now about the prospect of discovering one himself. Her nerves were already to the point of shattering.

"He discovered Mr. Weasley's cure, you know."

Hermione's eyes flickered. "Pardon?"

"The cure that came for Mr. Weasley? That was Severus's doing. We're all very grateful to Master Snape for his efforts. If we hadn't had his expertise handy, Mr. Weasley surely would have died."

Hermione turned to the unconscious figure lying in the hospital cot. "He never told me that..." she murmured with unmistakable awe and surprise.

Augustus chuckled. "I'm admittedly not surprised. I only met him that one time, but he wasn't the most, um, outgoing fellow. He insisted we not reveal his identity. I never understood why; I suppose he's just a very private sort of person? Not too comfortable with that sort of recognition?"

At this, Hermione couldn't help but smile, even if it was half-hearted. "No, he isn't. He'd detest that, actually. Does Mr. Weasley know?"

Augustus shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. Master Snape made the Healer I trained under, as well as myself, promise not to reveal that information. But you... Well, I figured you already knew, or I wouldn't have said anything."

Hermione forced a broader smile. "Don't worry. It's all right." She returned her attention to Severus, her fingers weaving themselves tighter around his, which were limp and, to her dismay, unresponsive. "How... How much longer?"

Augustus took a moment to look over his patient before answering. "I would suggest we keep him in this induced coma for now. Nagini's bite has done quite a number on his body. For now, we need to focus on revitalizing his internal organs; the venom is still trying to shut them down. I'm not sure how long that will last, so we should keep him asleep for now. I don't think he should be awake and aware of all this; the magnitude of pain would be too great if he was conscious."

Hermione's heart fluttered, but with alarm. "So he... He_ is_ in pain?"

"Not at the moment, Miss Granger, no. He's asleep. I assure you, he can't feel a thing."

"And when he wakes?"

There was a drawn out silence before Augustus addressed her. "We will do everything we can to make him as comfortable as possible." When he received no response from Hermione, whom he could tell was obviously distraught and deeply melancholy over the professor's situation, he issued more softly, "You have my word, Miss Granger. I promise I will do whatever I can for him."

Hermione slowly glanced up at him one more time and was grateful to receive such open charity, and not just for her but, more importantly, for Severus. It pained her to know it would probably be the only dose of kindness they would receive here, and that gave her pause.

"For now, get some rest, Miss Granger."

Augustus gave her another amiable smile and started to walk out of the room when Hermione blurted out, "Hermione, sir. It... It's Hermione."

Augustus turned towards her, nodded warmly in acknowledgement, and took his leave. Hermione heard him mumble something to someone out in the hallway, probably about Severus's condition. And it wasn't long before Hermione fell back into a daze at Severus's side. She was weary, her limbs ached, and she was grungy and, in all likelihood, looked horrid. But right now, she just wanted to sleep...

_Just a few hours. Severus can't be left unguarded, Hermione. What if someone was to try something? Only a few hours, at most._

With that, Hermione collapsed her head like a dead weight against Severus's chest, the only part of him that moved. She spread one arm out across him, bringing the slumbering wizard into a loose embrace. She kissed his cheek, hating how unnaturally cold his skin felt against her lips, and drew herself close.

"Hang on, love. Please hang on. Don't give up on me. _Please..._"

* * *

"'Mione?" someone gently shook her shoulder, though Hermione wasn't at all ready to consent to whatever they wanted.

_Merlin, let me sleep..._

"'Mione, it's Harry. Wake up."

_Severus..._

"'Mione, it's me. You should get up."

_Severus..._

"Oi! 'Mione!"

"_Severus!_" Hermione shot up, panting hard.

Harry immediately removed his hold on her and stood back, alarmed. "It's all right, 'Mione. Everything's fine. Snape's right here..."

Hermione blinked several times and slowly drew out of her slumber mixed with panic. Severus was in the same position as last night and hadn't moved at all, a sight that both relieved and saddened her; but then her head began pounding and she instantly brought her hands to her temples, groaning in protest.

"Ugh! My head..."

"You should eat something. You haven't eaten anything since... Well, before the battle."

Hermione hadn't even thought about that. Nourishment had been the furthest thing from her mind, but as soon as the thought of food entered into it, her stomach echoed her dire need to replenish.

"Oh, I guess I haven't eaten," she replied, sighing and turning towards Harry, though her headache made it difficult to focus.

Harry had obviously bathed and was in fresh clothes, though the few scratches around his face reminded her of what they had just been through the day before. Had it all really happened? Despite the changed turn of events, however, Harry offered his friend a pleasant grin.

"I've already sent for some breakfast; no worries."

"Oh, thanks."

"Why don't you take a shower and get out of those clothes? You look horrible."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I don't have anything else to conveniently change into, Harry."

"I've taken care of that, too." He held up a small, beaded bag—her own—and plopped it down on the bed next to Severus. "I don't know what all you keep in that thing, but I would imagine clothes are amongst its endless supply?"

"Oh! Thank you!"

"Sure thing."

Hermione was almost startled when Harry reached down to kiss her head but was then instantly relieved to receive such a sweet gesture of friendship. Without any hesitation, Hermione shot out of her chair and threw her arms around Harry's neck, catching him off guard. He stumbled backward, but once he balanced himself, he wrapped his arms around her in a secure hug. He could hear Hermione on the verge of tears. Her silence said it all. Grief for what they had all gone through, relief that Harry was alive, and, most importantly, fear for the man she might possibly lose.

Harry glanced momentarily at the bed where the professor lay, comatose and unmoving, before he stepped back from Hermione to offer her his genial smile. "Take a shower, get dressed, and we'll talk, all right?"

"But..."

"I'll stay with him," he assured her gently, squeezing her hand as he brushed past her to take her spot in the sofa chair at Severus's bedside.

"Oh." She was admittedly taken aback. "Are - Are you sure?"

Harry nodded, as if it were no big deal, which Hermione found astonishing, but she quickly gathered up her things and headed for the loo attached to the hospital room. Now that she was fully awake, she realized how desperately in need of a shower she was, and in need for a few minutes of peace with herself and her own thoughts. Considering how dreadful the past day had been, her mind—and her heart—needed some personal time to recoup.

Once Harry heard the shower running, he leaned back in the sofa chair and finally focused his attention on Severus Snape. His youthful face was a mixture of emotions as he studied the older man, who had, for so many years, been his adversary. Harry was surprised at how calm and rather tranquil the wizard looked now, but he knew inwardly that wasn't to be. Sure, it was a nice change from his usual hard expression and trademark scowl, but what lay ahead for the man was unclear.

After the memories he had watched in the Pensieve only hours ago, Harry was relieved to see visible proof that the man was, at the very least, sleeping peacefully for the time being, but it did nothing to comfort his own inner turmoil. He knew it wouldn't comfort Hermione either to hear the things that were already in play.

Coming to grips with what Severus Snape had showed Harry would, he knew, be an ongoing struggle, but he was determined to tell Hermione everything, and show her the memories whenever she was ready. His friend deserved to see them for herself. The man's early life—most of it, actually—had been far worse than Harry could ever have imagined.

_Worse than mine..._

Harry let out a prolonged sigh and scratched his unkempt hair, gazing at the Slytherin's profile in a new light. Was Hermione aware of the life Severus had had? Had she seen the memories he saw, for that matter?

_I suppose I'll find out soon enough..._

His friend had quite a lot of questions to answer to. Harry still couldn't believe that Hermione was_ in love_ with this fellow—with Severus Snape, their former professor. He was stunned and paralyzed and hadn't come to grips with the reality of the situation yet. He hoped it might be less awkward once he had the chance to speak to Hermione about it.

_Perhaps now wasn't the time_, Harry had considered on his way to St. Mungo's. _Then again, when was it ever the right time? She's my friend. I _have_ to know._

Harry easily lost track of time, his mind pondering the coma-induced wizard lying before him, clinging to life. Would he get the chance to speak to the professor? Could he possibly make things right now, for that matter? The man had risked his life day after day to protect him without him even knowing it, and all the while, he had been preoccupied with hating the man.

_How on earth do I thank him now?_

"Harry?"

The young man startled in his seat. Hermione was standing beside him, her curly hair still damp and the rest of her clean and refreshed. She was looking him over with worry.

"Erm, sorry."

"It's all right."

Hermione strolled to the opposite side of the bed and sat down beside Severus. Maybe she had forgotten that Harry was there for the moment, or perhaps she simply didn't care what he thought, but, without considering Harry's presence, Hermione bent down to kiss Severus's forehead. She then took his unresponsive hand into her own and rubbed it attentively.

There was no denying again what Harry saw by this small, simple gesture on Hermione's part, as well as the very look in her eyes: she was in love. With_ him_. Without a doubt.

"I guess Augustus Pye isn't in yet?" Harry inquired.

As if suddenly remembering her friend was present, Hermione turned her head. Though cleaned up, there was still a weariness etched all over her countenance that was irrefutable.

"No, he hasn't come in yet this morning, unless I was asleep at the time."

"He seems trustworthy?"

"Yes, he does. You know he helped—"

"Mr. Weasley, yeah." Harry paused. "He said they're looking for a cure... And that Snape is stable?"

"Yes, for now."

"I'm... I'm glad to hear it." Hermione offered Harry a warm smile that was entirely heartfelt, which seemed to give Harry the courage to keep talking. "McGonagall, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Kingsley Shacklebolt are making funeral arrangements for Lupin, Tonks, and Fred..."

Hermione nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry, Harry... How's Ron doing? And Ginny?"

"They're hanging in there. To be honest, I, um, I needed to get out of their house for a while. I stayed at the Burrow last night; several people did. But by this morning, I just... I needed to get out of there."

"I understand." A wave of guilt rushed over Hermione. "I'm sorry that I haven't been there for you. Perhaps I should—"

"No, it's all right, 'Mione. I, erm, explained things to them, just a little. Everyone's pretty shocked, mind you, and we're all really confused, but... Well, they're respectful of your decision to be here right now."

"Oh, that - that's good to know. Thanks."

"Sure."

Hermione surveyed Harry cautiously for a moment, biting her lower lip. "I'm sure you're wondering how this all came about?"

Harry seemed relieved to not have to bring up the uncomfortable topic himself and nodded accordingly. "Yeah, I am."

Hermione hadn't expected to have this conversation so soon, but then it was something that crossed her mind while she was taking a shower. If it was going to happen sooner or later, best to get it over and done with. There would be many more conversations—explanations—to come soon enough. Hermione took a minute to compose herself before she began.

"I... I was just as surprised as you are to realize I had feelings for Severus." She stopped when she noticed the strange sort of flicker in Harry's green eyes. "Sorry, you're not used to hearing me call him that, but I do. I have for some time..."

"Some time?"

"Yes. We were spending so much time together because of my detentions—Severus and me—that it just sort of happened. The more I got to know him, Harry, the more of a human being he became and less of a..."

She cut herself off. She couldn't bear to speak ill of him, even in context. Not now.

"Go on," Harry prodded her gently.

"I got to know him over the course of last year. We were friends at first, and, even then, Severus was pretty reluctant to get to know me. You know how reclusive we've always found him to be; but really, he was just lonely and didn't know how to communicate very well. I guess I just sort of tried to coax him out of his shell a little bit more and get him to talk to me, especially after I started realizing how misunderstood he was.

"He's not such a bad person, Harry. I know you must feel that I've betrayed you somehow, but, honestly, that's not what I ever meant to do."

"I know, 'Mione," Harry reassured her. "If I would have found out last year, then, yes, I would have seen it as a betrayal..."

Hermione took a moment to reflect on that. "For what it's worth, Harry, Severus told me himself that he doesn't hate you. It - It's much more complicated than that—"

"I know."

Hermione blinked, slightly confused. "Oh?"

Harry nodded, eying the professor before returning his attention to her. "Those memories he gave me, I looked at them. Before I went into the Forbidden Forest, I looked at Professor Snape's memories in the Pensieve. I... I know now where a lot of that animosity comes from. I still don't think it's right," he added before his voice suddenly softened, "but... Well, Professor Snape did an awful lot to protect me, 'Mione. I know that now. He didn't have to, but he did so because he..."

"He loved your mother," Hermione finished in a hushed tone, mindful of the blush that formed on Harry's cheeks.

Harry turned away from her, inspecting Severus through narrowed eyes, but they weren't hostile, only reflective. "I had no idea he'd loved my mother for so long... From the time they were kids. They used to play together, you know? Erm, well, I'm assuming he probably told you that; but he switched sides to try to protect her. You know his Patronus is a doe, just like my mother's?"

Hermione bowed her head, and for the first time, her eyes looked away from Harry's. They examined Severus's hand intertwined with hers instead.

"I'm sorry," Harry blurted out, feeling awful. "I guess this is difficult for you to hear. I wasn't trying to—"

"No, it's all right, Harry. It's not that, it's just... Well, I'm glad you finally know what he went through for you. I've hated not being able to tell you, but it really wasn't my place to say anything. And Severus, he... Everyone's been so wrong about him, including me. I was one of the many who doubted him. I was the last ally he had in this war, and I couldn't say anything. I couldn't defend him or stand up for him or tell you anything, and I hated it."

Hermione was vaguely aware of tears forming in her eyes and tried to suppress them. She continued to stroke Severus's hand, her lower lip quivering from the agony of all her built up guilt and shame.

"'Mione," Harry spoke up delicately, "I'm sure he doesn't blame you for not being able to speak out. I... I wish I would've known. I wish he would have told me sooner; I wish Dumbledore would have said something, for that matter, or you, but... Professor Snape obviously had his reasons. He didn't want me to know. He didn't want anyone to know. And you're right; it wasn't your secret to tell."

Hermione met Harry's eyes, overwhelmed by the gentleness she found in their depths. "I know you must think me completely mental—everyone does, I'm sure—but I can't..." Hermione swallowed and took a deep breath in order to continue without breaking down. "I can't help how I feel, Harry. I love him. Very much. And Severus, he... He loves me back. _He loves me_. I know it doesn't make any sense to you, I'm sure you find it all disgusting and unnatural and wrong, but please try to understand—"

"'Mione, stop."

Hermione closed her mouth, dumbstruck by how patient Harry was acting. She had expected him to pick a fight with her or, at the very least, challenge her decision and make this conversation all-around difficult, but that wasn't what she was hearing or receiving. At least, not so far.

Harry leaned forward in his chair with an intense expression. "Listen, I _am_ shocked. Like I said, we all are. This is definitely going to take some getting used to. But I really, erm, have no right to intervene in yours or Professor Snape's feelings." Hermione could see Harry visibly fighting through the awkwardness of the situation and couldn't help but commend him for it, as well as feel grateful for his efforts. "If this is how you feel—if you_ truly_ love him, and he loves you, and he's what you want—then, well, that isn't for any one of us to say whether it's right or wrong, regardless of how we personally feel. We may not have to agree with it... But I, for one, can respect your decision, 'Mione; or, at least, I'll try to, knowing what I know now."

"_You will?_" Hermione was amazed, and was even more so when Harry proceeded to chuckle.

"'Mione, you're my friend. Shouldn't I try to be supportive? Look, if I didn't know what I now know because of Professor Snape's memories, I probably wouldn't be saying any of this. I'd have cause for concern.

"Seeing those memories though... This is all very difficult for me to grasp, 'Mione. I've known a different side to this man most of my life. It's going to take a long time to come to digest everything he did, both for me and for the war efforts. And you and him— Well, I'll just say that I feel a little less - shamefaced - knowing that he... He's found someone else."

Hermione gazed at her friend for a long while without blinking. When she found her voice again, it was barely above a whisper.

"Harry, you can't feel guilty about Severus's long-term affections for your mother. That isn't _your_ fault, and he wouldn't want you to think that, by the way."

"Yeah, well," Harry grunted and fell back in his chair, "he did what he did _because_ he loved her, and I..." Harry clenched his jaw, his cheeks now burning red. "I thought he was against me the whole time. I - I had no idea he was trying to help me."

Hermione caved her shoulders. "Harry, no one did. _And Severus wanted it that way_. How could you have known? How could any one of us have known, for that matter? Severus _had_ to keep his true allegiance a secret. You know why..."

"Yes, I know. But still—"

"Harry, we were all wrong about him, including me. You're not the only one."

Harry paused to reflect on those words. "True. I just... I wish I would have seen a sign somewhere; something that told me differently. I've wasted so much energy and time hating him. And all the while, he was protecting me." Harry lowered his head but his eyes swept over Severus's still frame first. "No wonder he hates me so much..."

Hermione leaned towards her friend on the bed, now desperate to reach him. "Harry, he_ doesn't_ hate you. He told me so himself. I asked him why, and he told me in his own words that he's never hated you. Honest."

"It's because of my dad, isn't it?"

Hermione wasn't expecting James Potter to be brought into the conversation. She wasn't sure how to respond. She hated not having Severus available to speak for himself. It was something that really should come from him.

"Harry, I—"

"My dad was a bit of a prick. He was a good man, yes, but he was also a bully."

It was Hermione's turn to go red in the face. "Lots of people go through that stage, Harry—"

"None of _us_ did," Harry snipped. "It's wrong, 'Mione. Granted, Professor Snape isn't guiltless, but, well... It was never fair was it? Four against one."

"No," Hermione whispered in return, "it wasn't ever fair..."

Harry looked away again, peering out the window at the overcast morning sky. Hermione waited patiently, knowing he would address her again when he was ready. It was a much needed pause in the conversation for both, however, and lasted for some time.

To Hermione, looking over her best friend now was remarkable. Just to find Harry alive and breathing, here in this godforsaken hospital room, sitting vigil with her at Severus's side, was quite an overwhelming moment.

"I love my parents, 'Mione," Harry said unexpectedly, breaking the stillness, and in an almost painful sort of whisper. "It's really hard for me to think of them any differently than how I've envisioned them all my life. I saw my father as a great man, but now..."

There was an agonizing recess in the conversation again, and once Hermione realized Harry wasn't going to continue, she leaned over Severus and tried to reach her friend again. "Harry, your father wasn't a bad person. He just made some poor decisions back then. We all do at this stage in our lives, don't we? And from the sounds of it, he grew out of it."

Harry met Hermione's soft expression, though his eyes looked terribly sad, even disappointed. "Yes, he did."

Hermione may not have been an admirer of the late James Potter, particularly when it came to his treatment towards Severus, but Hermione found she couldn't deny a knowing, redeeming quality about the man she hadn't reflected upon before. "He tried to protect you and your mum when Voldemort came after you, Harry. He died protecting those that he loved. That doesn't sound like a prick to me."

Harry stared at Hermione for a while quietly, eventually responding rather feebly, "Thanks, 'Mione."

"Sure." She glanced down at Severus again, surveying his unchanged condition, and tried to keep her smile intact. "So, everyone's shocked, eh?"

"_Very_," Harry returned, grateful to be off the grave topic of his parents.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh, but then groaned. "Great. I'll have to have this conversation multiple times, won't I?"

"In the double digits, for sure."

"Thanks," she snorted, to which Harry shrugged.

"This was _your_ choice."

"Yes, it was, and I wouldn't change it."

Harry's expression morphed into one of introspection. "Nor should you be ashamed. I don't think you should." Hermione was stunned, before Harry added hastily, "That doesn't mean I don't find this whole situation bloody awkward and weird as hell."

Hermione tittered softly. "Of course. I'd find it weirder if you _were_ cool about it."

Harry's smile abruptly disappeared. "Ron's taking this the hardest, you know..."

That bit of sour news caused Hermione's smile to vanish as well. "I - I would imagine he would."

"I won't lie, 'Mione, he's, um, having a rough time with all of this."

Hermione sighed, aggrieved. "I'm sure he is. I know I owe him an explanation. And he'll get one, too."

"Good. Um," Harry hesitated before continuing. "It probably won't go over well, 'Mione. Just as a forewarning. I couldn't get him to come with me today. He's pretty pissed off..."

Hermione's frown turned into an abrasive scowl. "Well, he can fume all he wants! I'm _not_ his, I'm _not_ interested in him, and _I'm in love with someone else!_ He can go fly a kite!"

"Relax, 'Mione," Harry heeded her and stifled a laugh. "I'm just giving you the head's up is all. And you're right; he'll have to get over it. He's just going to be tougher to get through to than anyone else, I'd imagine."

"Of course," she grumbled and couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes.

For a while, neither one spoke, instead focusing on Severus's immobile form, covered by several blankets to keep him warm. Finally, Harry broke the pause again with another question.

"Do you think they'll wake him up soon?"

"Probably not for another couple days. He'll be in a lot of pain when he comes to apparently, and I'd rather not put him through that. He needs to rest."

"The venom," Harry unconsciously pointed to Severus's exposed neck. "Healer Pye said it's been combative with the various tonics they've tried?"

"Yes. Apparently, Nagini's venom is more powerful than it was before. Either that, or something else is going on."

"Dark magic?"

"From the sounds of it, yes."

Another pause. "'Mione?"

Hermione fully turned her head to face Harry and was taken aback by the awkward look that had formed on her friend's face. "Would you mind if... Do you think _he'd_ mind, rather, if I spoke to him sometime after he wakes up? I'd really like to, if I could."

Hermione considered his request carefully. "I'm not sure he'll want to Harry, but you can certainly try. I'm not against it. I'd _like_ you both to talk through this, or at least come to some mutual understanding.

"Just don't, erm, get him upset, will you? He's gone through enough; if you want to talk, I think we should at least give him a couple days first. I'm not sure what's going to happen when he wakes up, or how his condition might change, so..."

"Of course. I understand."

Hermione shot him a sincere smile. "Just don't get him riled up too much, and it should go fine."

_Oh, good Lord... Hermione, who are you trying to kid?_

"Yeah, I'd like to hope so," Harry returned, trying to sound positive, though she could tell he didn't mean a word of it.

"It might. You never know."

"Do you... Would you mind if I stayed a while? I'll try not to get in the way, I promise."

Hermione was struck by Harry's request to stay, and it heartened her more than she could have expressed. She willingly returned his question with another positive smile.

"Sure, Harry. That would be nice. I... I'd prefer not to be alone right now, especially since Severus is..."

When she couldn't complete her sentence, Harry leaned forward in his chair. "I know, 'Mione. I'll be here, all right? You're not alone."

"Thanks, Harry."

The two didn't speak again for quite a while. Harry watched over the professor and his friend silently, occasionally offering a few comforting words to Hermione, whilst she curled herself up next to Severus—one arm laced across his chest—and lay at his side for the remainder of the day.

* * *

**A/N #2: Hermione was ultimately a better friend to Harry, but I'd like to think he'll redeem himself here quite a bit, especially in light of what he's learned about Severus. More to come...**


	43. In Search of Answers

**A/N: Dear FFN, you can stop fooling around and redoing the Doc Manager, because this took me_ forever and a half_ to actually successfully upload and then format. **

**Dear readers, if there are any formatting errors, blame FFN. Not me. _Them_.  
**

**__****Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 43: In Search of Answers**

The next several days were some of the longest Hermione could remember. What seemed like hours were only minutes and what felt like days were only hours. Severus's condition wasn't improving, and even worsened at times. His eyes never opened, and his body never moved. This was to be expected, of course, but Hermione was half-tempted to request that they bring him out of this induced coma already. She was desperate to talk to him, no longer caring how selfish that was. She missed him and wanted him back.

_It will get better, Hermione. Just be patient. He'll get well. He just needs time..._

After the fourth or fifth day—she couldn't keep track anymore—Hermione found herself pacing back and forth within the small confinements of Severus's hospital room. Not surprisingly, no one but Harry had paid her and Severus a visit. Her friend came several times over those first couple of days, which she was thankful for, but the situation was obvious: Severus had no one besides her who cared. She was already well attuned to that miserable reality as well, but it didn't lessen how the notion hurt.

Everyone who had ever known the professor stayed away and purposely so. Harry avoided the sensitive subject whenever Hermione brought it up, but it was obvious. Severus was Undesirable Number One amongst the wizarding world, and it was going to take a miracle to get people to change their tune and be more compassionate and understanding towards his given situation.

Hermione avoided reading _The Daily Prophet_; she wasn't at all interested in hearing what that god-awful wench, Rita Skeeter, and her vultures had to say. Even when he was Headmaster, the _Prophet_ hadn't written all too kindly about him, although, with Lord Voldemort having taken over the Ministry, it meant the _Prophet_ staff was forced to not be so openly vocal in their prejudice against the Death Eaters, including Severus.

But circumstances had changed.

Harry naturally tried to play it down and kept insisting that, after the funerals, he would do his best to make those who needed to know aware of Severus's true nature and intentions all along; that didn't do anything for Hermione's growing anger and heightened anxieties, however.

There was also the somber fact that Severus wasn't getting well, and if no cure could be found, and soon, it would likely be Harry and her defending and preserving his honor in his stead. That was something Hermione couldn't bear to consider just yet.

As she lay down next to Severus on his cot for another evening in hospital, with her head lying comfortably against his shoulder, she enfolded him in her arms as much as she could and stared at his profile. She hadn't cried all that much. Perhaps her mind was simply protecting her from the notion of Severus's grim prognosis.

"Severus, please," she begged, her voice worn and diminished, "_hang on_. Please hang on, love. I'm here. I'm still here."

"Hermione?"

Hermione startled and turned towards the source of the voice coming from somewhere near the doorway. Augustus Pye had entered the room with Severus's chart in hand. It had become a bit of a ritual for the Healer to come in by himself. No one else seemed to want to touch Severus or aid in his treatment in any way, but tonight, Augustus was accompanied by two young, female Healers-in-training.

"Yes?" Hermione quickly rubbed at her dampened eyes.

Augustus approached the bed, though the two Healers kept a considerable distance. Hermione could easily decipher why. They knew who this patient was, and, even in his comatose state, were fearful of the man lying helpless and asleep. The proof of their mistrust caused Hermione to glare heatedly; she couldn't help herself.

"He's in a coma, you know," she almost snarled between clenched teeth. "He can't do anything to you."

Her remarks agitated the two females, who stepped back skittishly and attempted to give her polite smiles, but it was clearly a forced effort. Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes and turned away from them.

"I want you both to check his vital signs for me," Augustus informed his trainees. "I need to speak with Hermione alone."

"Yes, sir," they answered unanimously.

Hermione, however, eyed the pair of them with skepticism. "Can we talk here? I'm not comfortable leaving him alone with them."

The two trainees were perceivably affronted by Hermione's remark, but Augustus didn't seem at all perturbed. He nodded accordingly and offered her his sincerest smile.

"Certainly, as you wish."

Hermione slowly inched away from the bed, taking a moment to squeeze Severus's hand, still wanting him to somehow know she wasn't going anywhere. She followed Augustus towards the doorway and crossed her arms, anxious for whatever news the Healer might have for her this time.

"Have you found anything yet?" she pressed, unable to wait for him to address her first.

"I'm afraid not, Hermione."

Hermione's chest heaved. Every day had been like this. Every few hours, the Healer checked in on her to relay the latest developments, but the information wasn't ever encouraging. Hermione bit her lower lip hard, trying to keep her nerves at bay.

"So... So what now?"

"Our Potion-makers have come up with a number of new tonics to try, so we're going to give those a go via the Muggle IV drip we have in place. I've inspected them myself and, I assure you, they're quite safe. I've made a few little changes that I'm hoping will do the trick. I'm afraid, Hermione, if things don't start to improve by tomorrow though, I'm going to have to wake him up. We'll probably need Master Snape's own Potions expertise at this juncture, as our team is running out of ideas."

"Wake him up?" she breathed, her eyes enlarging a little at this news. The prospect was both exciting and nerve-wracking, for all she could think about was the prospect of Severus being in pain.

"Yes," came Augustus's solemn reply. "We can't keep him in this state forever, and the worst of the pain should've subsided by now. I need Master Snape to tell me more about his symptoms. We'll be able to combat whatever this Dark Magic is effectively if he can tell me about what he's experiencing. As a medical examiner, I can only assume so much."

"But he'll still be in pain, won't he?"

Augustus looked her over with consideration before answering. "I'm afraid so, Hermione, but as I've said, we'll do everything we can to make him comfortable."

"All right." She didn't sound at all convinced, and the apprehension and worry on her features were prominent.

"There may also be some other complications when he comes to..."

"Complications?"

Augustus nodded. "Some patients, when coming out of a state like this, can be very confused and disoriented. Don't be surprised if he doesn't recognize you at first. This is normal and usually subsides within twenty-four hours."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Twenty-four hours?"

"It doesn't usually take that long. It depends on the circumstances. We really won't know 'till Master Snape awakens how bad the damage to his body is, nor the extent of his injuries and what that might have done to his mind in the interim. Only time will tell."

Hermione's heart was racing. This wasn't sounding at all promising, and as much as she had been longing for Severus to wake up and speak to her the past several days, she was now having second thoughts. The idea of him being in pain and not recognizing her was a very difficult probability to take in.

Augustus, sensing Hermione's quiet reservations, gave her another upbeat smile. "This is only temporary, Hermione. Remind yourself of that. We've kept him in this state as long as possible to keep him from experiencing pain, but the longer we do so, the harder it may even prove to wake him up. I'd rather get to the bottom of this now, and I'm sure you would, too."

"Yes... I - I would." She paused to inhale a deep breath. "Thank you, Augustus."

"Having you here when he wakes up, I'm sure, will make a world of difference."

Hermione felt a lump form at the back of her throat. "I hope so..."

"I think it will." He stopped to eye her reflectively. "You care about him an awful lot, and that's what he needs right now, more than anything else."

Hermione blinked, struck by the Healer's words of compassion; his presence was the only glimmer of kindness—aside from Harry's—that Severus had received since arriving, and Hermione gratefully clung to his willingness to help.

"So you don't think he," she choked on her words, "deserves less?"

That question seemed to visibly shock Augustus, who shook his head. "No, _not at all_, Hermione. Even had Mr. Potter _not_ informed me of some of what's happened, _no patient_—regardless of their crimes—should go through something of this magnitude alone. I think most of us deserve a second chance at life, don't you?"

Before Hermione could answer, the two Healers-in-training approached, and the one piped up faintly, "Severus Snape's vitals are virtually unchanged, Healer Pye. We could still detect the heart murmur; it hasn't worsened, but it hasn't responded to elixir 33. And his breathing is bit shallower than this afternoon. We upped his oxygen intake by ten percent."

"Thank you, Miss Parker, Miss Foster. You may go."

Hermione watched the young girls, who couldn't be more than a few years older than her, willingly take their leave, and quickly, as if they couldn't wait to get out of the room. _And away from Severus. Like he would actually do anything to them!_ Hermione wasn't aware that she was blatantly glaring after the spot where they disappeared; Augustus grunted to recapture her attention.

"My apologies. I haven't informed that many about what Master Snape did. Unless you would like me to?"

"Oh... Um, well..."

"Regardless, I've informed those who work with Severus directly, alongside me, to treat him fairly and with compassion. And I've made a point of mentioning Mr. Potter's request that he be treated well, too. Hopefully his word should make some difference."

"Thank you," Hermione issued, her voice growing a little stronger. "I don't want anyone trying anything, Augustus. People shouldn't judge him when they don't know the whole truth of what he's done, for the benefit of everyone."

Seeing the young witch growing upset, Augustus bowed his head. "My apologies."

Hermione's face softened in response. "No, I'm sorry, Augustus. This whole situation just has me very upset. I don't like knowing there are people out there who wish Severus ill. Even once the truth comes out, I sense that there will still be a lot of backlash. It's all still too raw for everyone. Severus is a hated man, and for all the wrong reasons..."

"I know, Hermione," he returned quietly, "but he's in good hands with me. I won't let anyone try anything, all right?"

Hermione nodded her appreciation. Augustus gave her another respectable bow and strode out of the room, leaving her to her own devices. Hermione turned back to where Severus's bed was propped against the stone wall, his still silhouette outlined softly by the light of the moon trickling in from the only window he had. She sighed heavily and went back to the bed, bending down to kiss and stroke his forehead.

His skin still felt relatively cold—colder than a normal person's body temperature should be—and that concerned her. She took possession of his limp hand again and proceeded to kiss it several times, looking over his face as she did so.

"I won't let them hurt you," she whispered against his hand with feeling. "I promise, Severus. I won't let anything happen to you..."

* * *

"Miss Granger?"

"Hmm?"

"Miss Granger?"

"What?" she mumbled, irritated at being woken against her will.

It took Hermione a moment to come to and realize she wasn't alone in Severus's room. Someone new had entered; a person she hadn't seen since the end of the battle. It was evidently early, though Hermione had no clue what time specifically, and she moaned as her eyes slowly opened and adjusted to the faint light pouring into the small, confined space. She raised her head to make out the silhouette of an elderly woman standing at the end of Severus's bed: Professor McGonagall, now newly instated Headmistress.

"Professor?" she managed through a stifled yawn. "Erm, Headmistress? I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Miss Granger. I'm sorry to wake you. I feared this might not be a good time but... Well, it couldn't be helped. I had a few minutes to spare, so I seized the opportunity."

Hermione suddenly realized she was lying next to Severus on the bed with her arms wrapped around him, and she hastily moved off the bed to stand up. Hermione understood that people needed to adjust slowly to this new concept of the pair of them. She didn't like the strange look of judgment Professor McGonagall was giving her, however, so she retook Severus's hand in hers and gripped it tight.

"Can I help you?" she offered to divert the woman's attention from their intertwined hands.

McGonagall looked overtly uncomfortable but attempted to be cordial and cleared her throat. "Well, I... I came to inquire after Severus's health. How... How's he doing?"

Hermione's brow rose. "He's in a coma for now. They're probably going to wake him up today. They haven't found a cure and his body's in pretty bad shape, but the tonics they're giving seem to be slowly improving things."

"Oh! I'm very glad to hear it."

"You are?" Hermione couldn't stop herself from asking.

The normally harsh lines on McGonagall's face grew less prominent. "Yes, I am. Mr. Potter, he... Well, last night, he showed me the memories Severus left for him. The staff and the Order have seen them as well. We - We're all shocked, but, well," she paused to swallow, "it puts things in an entirely new perspective."

_So everyone's seen Severus's memories but me_, Hermione reflected with a twinge of bitterness. _Figures._

"Oh..." Hermione glanced down at Severus, then back at the professor. "So, you know then? About his allegiance?"

"Yes," she replied, sounding a little strained and discomforted.

"And about Dumbledore as well?"

McGonagall stiffened a bit, her mouth twitching into a heavier frown. Hermione could tell the former Headmaster was a sensitive topic for her, just as it was for most. As far as the young Gryffindor was concerned, however, people needed to accept what Severus did, and not of his own choosing.

McGonagall nodded her head and darted her eyes to her hands momentarily. "Yes... That, too."

Hermione waited a moment for the witch to say something, but when she didn't, Hermione decided to speak up. If Severus couldn't defend himself, she would have to get used to the notion of doing it for him.

"He didn't want to do it, Professor. You have to understand..." McGonagall made eye contact again, her expression not nearly as stern as it normally was. "He hated it; it killed him to do it. You have no idea how much it tore him apart. Everything about that secret part of his life—spying for Voldemort, witnessing the horrible things that he saw, gathering information for you and the Order at the risk of his own life—it was eating him away inside. It was extremely hard on him, Professor. I can't stress that enough.

"You should know that acting as Headmaster this past year, too, was terrible for him. He despised himself for the things he was forced to do. That's not who he is, Professor. _That's really not him at all_."

There was a long, drawn out silence before McGonagall finally addressed her remarks. "How much did he share with you, Miss Granger?" she asked quietly.

Hermione was a little confused by that question. "Not as much as I would have liked. It's all very painful for him to open up about. I only know bits and pieces."

"I see..." She fidgeted with her hands before taking a step closer to the bed, and to her. "Miss Granger, there's another matter I must discuss with you, which is why I've come. About you and... Severus."

Hermione took a deep, calculated breath. "What would you like to know, Professor?"

McGonagall seemed rather reluctant to touch upon the subject at all, but her question somehow forced its way out of her, nevertheless. "When exactly did this - relationship - between the two of you start?"

"Professor, I... I'm not a student of his anymore, if that's what you're after—"

"Please answer my question, Miss Granger."

Her grey eyes had hardened, making Hermione nervous. Perspiration broke out on Hermione's neck, and the hand that held Severus's was becoming sweaty and on the verge of shaking.

How much should she tell? Should she lie?

As soon as she considered her options, Hermione quickly concluded that lying was a wasted effort. She was sick of the charades, sick of hiding, and tired of tiptoeing around her relationship with the man anymore. Hermione let out a prolonged sigh and straightened her shoulders.

"It was mostly just a friendship during my sixth year, Professor, when I was spending so much time in detention. Towards the end of the year, it... It became romantic."

There was a flash in McGonagall's grey eyes, but Hermione didn't allow it to deter her from getting everything out in the open. "It was only hugging and kissing, nothing more. Severus _never_ took advantage of me, Professor, and the decision to be together was as much mine as it was his. I was seventeen and of age by the time this took place. Anything that happened between us was harmless, and, for what it's worth, Professor, Severus tried to push me away many, many times. That's the truth."

McGonagall didn't speak right away, and as the moments trickled by, Hermione only grew more shaken. How badly was this going to go? Should she have lied after all?

Then McGonagall took another unconscious step towards her and clamped her hands together. "Miss Granger, the Board of Governors will have to be informed about this. Once word gets out about the two of you—"

"What do you mean?"

McGonagall eyed her up and down. "Surely, you don't expect to keep this a secret forever, do you?"

"No, but..."

"It's against school regulations for a professor to cavort with a student, Miss Granger. Severus knows that as well as you." Hermione opened her mouth to object, but McGonagall added hastily, "Regardless of whether they're of age or not, and regardless of whatever their intentions were."

Hermione frowned and looked away. How she wished Severus would wake up now and back her up, or at least defend himself. He deserved that much.

"Professor, we haven't done anything wrong," she whispered, her voice rippling with hurt. "I love Severus, and he loves me. He protected me, he protected the school, he protected Harry... He's done an awful lot for all of us, including you. Please, just let him alone, I beg you."

"Miss Granger—"

"Half of the reason we got to know each other at all was because Voldemort _requested_ it of him! Severus shouldn't be blamed for carrying out his orders. As an agent, that was his job, and Dumbledore encouraged Severus to do the same. Severus_ had_ to do what was expected of him, no matter what it was, or else you and Harry and everyone else would have been in the dark about a lot of things! He would have surely been killed for not carrying out his orders, Professor."

McGonagall arched an eyebrow. "Voldemort requested him to get to know you? I can't believe that Dumbledore would—"

Hermione nodded emphatically. "Yes, he did, and Dumbledore, too. I'm sure you can imagine what Voldemort's intentions were, Professor. I was closest to Harry, and he was determined to have him isolated from us. Ron and I were in the way. It was only a matter of time before he came after me.

"Severus protected me at great personal risk to himself. He was supposed to befriend me and then hand me over to Voldemort, all in an effort to get to Harry. Dumbledore wanted him to play along, because otherwise he'd risk losing his spy. Severus refused; he didn't want to play along. He saved my life."

McGonagall reared back. "But..."

"I was one of the few he _did_ manage to save, Professor. There were many others he couldn't, and, believe me, he hasn't spoken much about it, but I know how much that's devastated him. He blames himself for everything, most of which he didn't have much choice in. A lot of it was outside of his control."

"Miss Granger, you do realize I still cannot keep this from the Board of Governors, or the staff, for that matter? It comes down to school policy."

Hermione's shoulders caved in disappointment. "Professor, please, I'm asking you for Severus's sake. He's been through enough, and he's going to have more than his fair share to answer to once he gets well..." Hermione reflected on that for a fleeting moment before she stumbled through the rest of her emotional plea. "After everything he's done, _please_ just give him a break."

Seeing the torn look morphing on McGonagall's face, Hermione pressed on, trying not to let her voice shatter, "I know this all must seem highly inappropriate to you, but I'm one of the few genuine people Severus has in his life. If you knew what he'd been through these past several years, if you knew what his childhood and home life were like—"

"I've had my suspicions, Miss Granger. Don't forget, he was my student at one time."

Hermione blinked. "Did he ever share any of that with you?"

"Alas, no, but I..." She glanced down at her colleague with a sober reflection in her eyes. "I could sense how miserable and unhappy he was as a boy. He kept to himself, but he wasn't in my House, so he admittedly wasn't a boy I kept a close eye on."

"He was bullied and picked on," Hermione interrupted with feeling, "and lost the only friend he ever had in his young life."

"You're speaking of the late Lily Potter."

"Yes," Hermione answered, trying not to let her resentment towards the late witch show.

"I confess, that was a bit of a shock to learn of," McGonagall stated softly. "I didn't know how strongly he regarded her. He never seemed..." She fumbled with how to complete her thought, and Hermione fastened her hand even tighter to Severus's.

"Capable of love?" Hermione finished.

Those words made the atmosphere surrounding the two women shrink, and an expression of shame flushed McGonagall's face momentarily. "Yes," she confessed. "Understand, Miss Granger, I've known Severus a long time. Until this past year, I held a lot of respect for him, both as a wizard and as my colleague. He became my equal when he became a professor. He's done a great many services for the school and staff over the years.

"Despite all of that, however, we've never been very close. In all the years I've known Severus, he's never shared anything personal about himself. I've always known him to be a recluse. He attends school-related functions, he participates in staff meetings, but he's generally aloof and dismissive. He's never shown much feeling outside of... Well, having a chip on his shoulder.

"Seeing those visions in the Pensieve yesterday, I feel, in many ways, like I haven't known this man at all. It's like encountering a complete stranger. It's the same for the staff and for the Order. This is all _a lot_ for us to process, Miss Granger."

"I know." Hermione rubbed her thumb along the inside of Severus's palm. "I know he's never offered himself up freely, Professor, but a lot of that goes back to his childhood. He never received the proper nurturing or encouragement to be himself from an early age. It's made him highly distrustful of people because of what he went through. It's difficult for him to communicate _because_ of the life he's had. It hasn't been easy for him, Professor..."

"I know that. I understand."

"Which is why I'm begging you, Professor, _please don't put him through this_. If you want me to answer to the school board, I will. Gladly. I'll do whatever you want, Professor, but please, let him be."

McGonagall's stern mouth shifted a few times as she seemed to ponder over what to do. Her small eyes darted from Hermione to Severus and back again, thinking over the delicate matter and how best to deal with it in her new position.

"The school board knows nothing of this so far, Miss Granger, but when the news breaks—whenever that may be—I will do my best to convey to them what you've shared with me. However, I can't make any guarantees. I have a feeling that, regardless, Severus may have to submit to questioning if he's to have a prayer of..."

Hermione's eyes constricted. "Prayer of what, Professor?"

_Surely, she's not speaking of him returning to Hogwarts?_ she briefly considered. _Would they_ really _invite him back?_

Before McGonagall could answer, and it looked as if she were struggling to address Hermione's question, two additional figures entered the room, bringing the conversation to a halt. Hermione saw the outline of Harry come walking towards her, followed closely by another taller, impressive figure with purple and blue robes and dark skin: Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Hey, 'Mione!" Harry greeted her with a warm hug, bypassing McGonagall to get to his friend, as Kingsley held back and stood next to the Headmistress.

"Hey," Hermione returned, confused. "What are you doing here?"

Harry didn't answer but turned to McGonagall. "Sorry, we didn't mean to interrupt, Professor."

"It's all right, Potter."

"Miss Granger," Kingsley bowed his head respectfully, which she returned. "My apologies. I know it's early, but it couldn't be prevented."

"Sir?" Hermione inquired, her nerves creeping up on her again.

"There's some news, 'Mione," Harry lowered his voice, "about Snape in the press."

"What do you mean?"

"Apparently, a lot of folks have been writing into the Ministry and to _The Daily Prophet_. They're, erm, demanding persecution for his crimes. There's been a lot of threats made to Law Enforcement, claiming various things will happen if Snape's not taken into custody, and soon."

"_What?_" Hermione blurted out, alarmed. "Harry, he's in a coma! He's in bad shape! He isn't the culprit they're—"

"We know, Miss Granger," Kingsley interrupted with an assertiveness and calmness unmatched by many, "which is why we're here."

"So long as Snape's here, 'Mione, we think it would be best that you two have some added protection."

Hermione scrunched up her nose. "Protection? Oh... Harry, Severus won't want that—"

"'Mione, trust me, it's for the best."

"How... How bad are the threats?"

Harry's mouth twisted unpleasantly, which told her everything before his answer came. "Bad enough."

"But the Ministry isn't in any shape yet to—"

"Kingsley was just instated as the new Minister for Magic."

Hermione's eyes widened at this news. She really _had_ missed an awful lot by not reading the papers. Normally, an election was held for such an office, but Hermione knew just by looking at the man that they had made the right choice by not wasting any time on such trivial matters.

"Congratulations, sir."

Kingsley offered her a warmhearted smile. "Thank you. It may only be temporary until a proper election can take place." His strong face altered, turning grave and solemn. "There's still much to do. Mr. Potter and a number of others have been of great help to me in avoiding chaos, including the Order. We've been working 'round the clock to get the Ministry back into shape."

Hermione suddenly realized how tired both men looked, and McGonagall as well. The guilt she felt increased tenfold.

"I'm sorry I haven't been of much help to any of you, but..." Hermione glanced sidelong at Severus with a heavy frown, and when she turned back to them, Harry had reached out to take hold of her shoulder.

"It's all right, 'Mione. We understand. You both just need to be protected, that's all. Word's gotten out that Snape is here, and people are... They're just angry."

Hermione knew what Harry additionally wanted to say but was refraining from uttering. _They need someone to blame_. The thought left an acid taste in Hermione's mouth and made her cheeks burn. She swallowed her resentment and hurt as best she could and gave the group her full attention.

"What do you suggest?"

"The Minister and I were thinking we should add a few more protective enchantments all along this ward, have two people stand guard along this hallway, and place a handful of others throughout the rest of the hospital."

Hermione's eyes widened. "That's an awful lot, Harry..."

"It's necessary," was all he returned, which told Hermione in so many words how serious the situation was.

"Then - Then who?"

"Several Aurors have returned to their positions," Kingsley answered for Harry, "and Mr. Potter has already made them privy to Professor Snape's circumstances." Seeing the look of trepidation mounting in Hermione's eyes, he added, "They're trustworthy, Miss Granger, I promise. Mr. Potter informed them of what they needed to know."

"I see."

"This is only temporary, 'Mione."

Hermione bit her lower lip. "Are people really_ that_ upset?"

Harry returned her question with a delicate nod. "No one knows you're here, 'Mione, and we'd like to keep it that way. People saw us leave Hogwarts with Snape after the battle, but McGonagall told the whole of the school that we didn't stay, so no one's suspected of having seen Snape much at all except me. And that's fine, I can handle it."

"Oh... But..."

"I've made a handful of statements to the _Prophet_ already, telling them to back off. I don't want to start telling them everything on Snape's behalf. I... I have a feeling he wouldn't like that, and he should have some say in the matter, so until he's well, I'll just keep telling everyone in the press to let him be. Hopefully my word will be good for something."

Hermione was quite impressed to learn all of this. She threw her arms around her friend's neck, bringing him into a quick, but firm, hug.

"Thank you, Harry."

"Miss Granger," McGonagall spoke up, giving her a look of rare sympathy, "if you wish to leave these premises at all, I want you to inform Harry or another member of the Order first."

Hermione startled. "Oh, no, Professor, that's not necessary. I can be discrete enough on my own."

Kingsley, however, shook his head in disagreement. "We must insist, Miss Granger, as an extra precaution that you allow one of us to escort you from the hospital. It's not safe right now. People are very wound up over this, so it's for the best."

_'For the best'..._

Hermione couldn't move. She had been so consumed by Severus's poor health that she hadn't given much thought to safety measures outside of St. Mungo's. Sure, she never left him alone in the room, but beyond the hospital, she hadn't given thought to just how chaotic things might become.

Tears prickled her eyes and she quickly turned away from everyone to sit down next to Severus. She took his hand in both of hers and stared long and hard at the misapprehended man, lying unawares of how bad things had gotten.

"'Mione?" Harry whispered, moving to the bedside to touch her back. "It'll be all right."

"This isn't fair," she muttered, keeping her head down, diverting her eyes from all of them. "He doesn't deserve any of this..."

No one said anything to that statement. After much silence, Hermione brought Severus's hand to her face and simply stared at him, losing sense of everything and everyone else. She had no idea how long McGonagall or Kingsley stayed, but after a while, she felt Harry's hand brush her shoulder again.

"We've placed more protective charms outside. Two Aurors will be here by this afternoon, and I'll come by again soon to check on you, all right?"

Hermione nodded, her face still hidden by the hand that she clasped. When she heard Harry's footsteps shuffling away, she finally peered across the room just as Harry was about to reach the door.

"Harry?" He immediately stopped and turned around, concern marring his brow. "Thank you for everything. I - I appreciate it. It means a lot."

Hermione wanted to say more but simply couldn't. She was feeling far too raw and vulnerable at the moment. If she didn't receive one ounce of good news, and soon, Hermione feared she would fall apart at the seams.

As if already aware, Harry offered her a small smile; one she was eternally grateful for. "I'll see you later." His face suddenly turned downcast. "Funerals are tomorrow."

"Oh..." Hermione gave Harry the gentlest look she could. "I'm sorry I won't be there, Harry. Please apologize to everyone for me—"

"It's all right, 'Mione. You don't need to keep apologizing or making excuses."

Hermione arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Really?"

Harry's handsome features, though serious, nodded affirmatively. "Really. This is the least I could do for him," he nodded towards Severus, "for now. After everything that's happened... Well, I just want to help.

"As for you and Snape, I'm getting to be all right with it, strangely enough." He paused, staring at her without blinking before adding, "Even if it_ is_ really, really weird."

"Thanks a lot," she grumbled, stifling a laugh for the first time in days.

"Well, you can't expect me to be all—"

"I know, Harry," she returned with a genuine smile. "Thanks... For being understanding."

Hermione suspected Harry of being more down than he was letting on. They had lost several friends only days ago, and he only recently learned of the many things Severus Snape had done for him. Then again, Hermione reflected, he _had_ to be happy and grateful just to be alive.

Either way, she was thankful to have her best friend. Knowing in the back of her mind that Harry was at least attempting to be supportive was a hope she willingly clung to like a lifeline as the Boy Who Lived finally took his leave.

* * *

"I'm afraid I have some bad news, Hermione."

Hermione peered up at the Healer from her spot next to Severus. She had been talking to him off and on all afternoon. She knew it was silly—he probably couldn't hear a word she had been saying all this time—but she hoped that, at the very least, the sound of her voice might offer him _something_. Comfort, reassurance, anything at all...

"What is it, Augustus?" she asked, bracing herself for more news that would surely be difficult to swallow.

He eyed her with his usual disposition of compassion as he answered, his voice quieter than normal. "There still hasn't been any luck in the search for a cure. Our medical experts and even our Potion-makers are running out of ideas..."

Hermione scowled and leaned her forehead against the side of Severus's face. "I'm not surprised," she mumbled sadly under her breath, not caring whether or not Augustus heard.

Augustus soundlessly approached the bed and bent over his patient, inspecting him for a long moment before his hand came to rest on Severus's shoulder. He turned to Hermione with a sober expression.

"I think it's time we woke him up." When Hermione didn't respond, only drew her arm across Severus's chest and stared only at him with her eyes glazed over, Augustus pressed, "The more information I can get from him, Hermione, the better his chances will be, and the better I might be able to help him." He paused, thinking the witch might say something, but she didn't. "His vital signs haven't improved. The longer we hold out for something better, the worse his condition may get, I fear."

"I understand," she whispered back.

"You remember what I told you before?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust me?"

Hermione's eyes fluttered at that question. She gazed up at the young Healer, who seemed to be hanging on her reply to move forward with the next step. Slowly, she consented, but in silence and with only a nod of her head.

"Very well. I'll be right back."

Augustus removed himself from the room. Hermione returned her focus to Severus and brought her lips to his cheek. She felt numb and nearly as depleted and cold as he was. She closed her eyes and nuzzled herself closer to him, hating not getting any sort of response back.

By the time her eyes reopened, Augustus and two Healers-in-training had entered the room. They were different from the two young ladies from earlier, and one was a male. She hadn't even heard them come in.

Without a word, Hermione reluctantly eased herself out of the bed but took a seat right next to Severus, one hand clutching his and the other upon his shoulder. She had no idea what to expect, and not knowing how much pain Severus might be in once he came to was at the forefront of her concerns.

Augustus instructed the two Healers-in-training to hold Severus down, which immediately distressed Hermione to hear. "Some patients can get a little violent when coming out of a state like this," Augustus explained, "especially if they're confused. We don't want him thrashing about too much or he might hurt himself."

The two trainees cast magical bindings across the bed with their wands, and Hermione startled in her chair. "Is that really necessary?" she asked with more bite than she had meant to use.

"Just an added precaution, Hermione. Don't worry."

Hermione sighed and hesitantly looked away from the young Healers, whom she didn't trust at all. Augustus leaned over Severus and began muttering an advanced awakening incantation, moving his wand around in a gradual circle. He repeated the spell several times.

At first, Hermione thought the spell might not be working, or that it wasn't strong enough. She clasped Severus's hand tighter and kept her face close to his. Then, much to her relief, Severus's head slightly moved. Hermione drew even closer, her free hand grazing over his cheek and brow.

"Severus?" she coaxed softly, whilst Augustus continued to mutter the awakening charm. "Severus, wake up." She thought she detected a low murmur or a moan, which livened her spirits. "It's all right, Severus. It's all right, love. It's Hermione. Wake up."

Severus moved his head back and forth, his lips muttering something inaudible every now and then, but the act of waking him was more trying than any of them expected. After several minutes, his eyes still wouldn't open, though his body began to stir beneath the covers and against the constraints that held him in place.

"C'mon, Severus," Hermione gently urged him, inclining forward to kiss his forehead. "You need to wake up now. Wake up, Severus. That's it, love."

Once Severus's eyelashes started fluttering, Augustus ceased performing the incantation and bent close to the dark wizard's face. "Severus Snape," he spoke much louder than Hermione, and in a rather stern voice. "I need you to wake up now. C'mon. Open your eyes."

Hermione nearly dropped Severus's hand when his eyes slowly opened at last. "_Severus!_" she exclaimed, pecking his cheek urgently to get him to look at her. "Severus, it's all right. It's Hermione. You're all right."

He mumbled something else and seemed to find the act of simply moving his head difficult. He fought hard to look at her, and, when the weariness of those familiar black eyes finally met hers, Hermione froze, waiting for the horrible confirmation that he possibly wouldn't recognize her. He, indeed, looked quite dazed and confused as he tried to take her in, though the act of keeping his eyes open was proving to be a struggle.

"It's all right, love," she reiterated as calmly as possible. "It's Hermione. I'm here. Wake up. That's it, Severus. Keep your eyes open."

"I...can't..." he managed, his voice sounding much hoarser than Hermione remembered. His eyelids routinely flickered, fighting off the want to sleep.

"Yes, you can, love. Stay awake. Do you know where you are?"

"No..."

"You're in St. Mungo's," Augustus explained, as Severus struggled to look at him, too. "You've been here for nearly a week."

"Wha... What?" he rasped; he barely had a voice at all, much to Hermione's dismay.

She kissed his brow again and stroked it gently. "Severus, do you remember anything? Do you remember how you got here?"

As Severus painfully turned his head, his eyebrows narrowed and his pupils widened. It was the most animated his face had been in days, and just as Hermione was heartened to see him growing more alert, what happened next rattled and shook her already tattered nerves. Severus's head suddenly thrashed violently and he began to cry out in pain.

"_Severus!_"

Hermione shot out of her chair and bent over him, but Severus's eyes were now pinched shut and his entire body was kicking and squirming, fighting to break free. "He's convulsing," said one of the Healers nervously, and they immediately tightened the bounds around his body with their wands.

It didn't matter though; Severus continued to struggle against them, his breathing strenuous and loud, his head rolling back and forth as he groaned several complaints of agony. Hermione panicked, finding it all far too debilitating to watch.

"Severus?" Hermione tried to hold him down herself, hating his low, drawn out cries of pain. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? What is it?"

"P - P - Pain!" he stammered, struggling to breathe.

"Severus—"

"It - burns!"

"Burns? Where, Severus? _Where?_" Severus didn't answer, only let out a cry that was literally torn from the back of his throat. "Hush, love! It's all right! It's all—"

"_NO!_" he cringed. "It - hurts!"

"_Where, Severus?_"

"Every - where!"

Hermione watched in horror as Severus's face and body continued to contort wildly and gasp for air. Augustus had extracted something from his coat pocket—a phial—and was trying to press it to Severus's lips several times, all while Hermione spoke to him, but Severus kept turning away, almost whimpering as his face twisted in torment.

"Mr. Barker," Augustus called to one of his assistants, "help me hold him down!"

Just as the Healer inched closer to move Hermione out of the way, she shook her head decidedly. "No, I'll do it." She swiftly glided her arm underneath Severus's neck to cradle him against her so that he couldn't thrash about as much and pressed his head against her shoulder with her free hand to stop him from moving so that Augustus could get the tonic down without a struggle.

Severus coughed and wheezed as the substance was literally forced down his throat. Then he proceeded to cry out all over again, more desperate than before. Hermione held onto him as much as she could, but he was surprisingly strong for being in the state he was.

"Shhh, Severus!" she kept trying to sooth but to no avail. "Stop! You're going to hurt yourself—"

"NO! It burns! _IT BURNS!_ Make - it - stop!"

Hermione was baffled, as were Augustus and the trainees, all of whom continued to try various attempts at calming Severus down, but he wouldn't concede. The trainees tightened the bonds around Severus's body, and Hermione shot them a deadly look that would rival the professor's, if he were at all himself.

"Stop that! He can't breathe! You're only making it worse for him!"

"Ease off," Augustus commanded to them, to which they obeyed.

"IT - HURTS - SO - BAD!" he half screamed, half gasped.

"I - I know it hurts, love," Hermione said, stumped and feeling utterly helpless. "But stop struggling; you'll only make it—"

"Make it st - stop!"

"Severus—"

"P - Please! _PLEASE!_"

Hermione was paralyzed. She had never heard Severus sound so incapacitated or desperate for relief. And with every groan or whimper or cry, he only sounded worse.

"Severus, it's going to be all right! Just hang on!"

"The tonic should start to work in a moment, Master Snape."

Augustus turned to one of the Healers to request something else Hermione couldn't hear, though she suspected it was probably something Muggle-related, and the young female scurried out of the room. Hermione continued to grip Severus tightly, but he was putting up a much harder fight than anyone anticipated.

Augustus tried to use _Anapneo_ to help Severus breathe easier, and Hermione caught the nervous flicker in the man's blue eyes when it didn't do anything for his patient. After trying a handful of additional healing spells that didn't work, he turned to the male trainee, his anxiety over the situation making itself known for the first time that Hermione could recall, heightening her own.

"We need that respiratory monitor!" When the young man only gave him a blank stare in return, he exclaimed, "The one in my office, remember? _Hurry!_"

"But, sir, that - that's a Muggle instrument—"

"And we've tried everything else! _Now go!_"

The man hurried away, leaving Hermione and Augustus alone. "We'll give it a try," he assured Hermione before attempting several more healing spells to alleviate Severus's inflictions.

Hermione decided to take matters into her owns hands and forcefully pulled Severus's chin towards her, trying to get him to stop struggling long enough to look at her. "Severus! Severus, look at me! _Look at me!_" His eyes wavered, finding it difficult to focus, as she tried to issue patiently, "You _have_ to listen to us or you're going to end up in more pain."

"But— It - It _hurts!_"

"I know, love; I know. Just keep breathing, Severus. _Breathe!_"

"I - can't!"

"Calm down. Just calm down! I know it hurts, but try to catch your breath. _Please try!_"

Severus, however, only wheezed harder, more desperate than ever for oxygen. His free hand clamped down on the bed sheets, twisting them into knots. Hermione panicked and hugged him tighter, not knowing what else to do.

"Easy, love! Easy now! Severus, slow down! Slow yourself down!"

"I - can't - breathe!" he gasped, the hand that held hers gripping harder than ever. He was nearly cutting off her circulation, but she wasn't even aware in the midst of what was happening.

Hermione, fraught with fear as she stared down at Severus, gasping and heaving and on the verge of losing consciousness, had a fleeting moment of dread. _My god... He's going to die. After everything. He's going to die right here in my arms..._

"I'm here, Severus!" she exclaimed. "I'm right here! Breathe, sweetheart! _Breathe!_"

By the time the respirator was wheeled into the room, Severus was nearing the end of a full blown attack, and Hermione found it virtually impossible to hold him still or prevent him from flailing his body every which way, all in one last precarious struggle to get air into his lungs. Augustus hastily placed what Hermione recognized as an oxygen mask over Severus's face, and within seconds, Severus's heaving breaths started to level out. He continued to moan about pain, though barely conscious, but either way, Hermione shook with relief. Her nerves were shot, and she was now visibly trembling from head to toe.

Augustus did another quick check of Severus's vital signs with his wand, which Hermione suspected wouldn't be at all good. She didn't need the confirmation on Augustus's face to tell her so. The second trainee ran into the room, levitating several more phials towards Augustus. He proceeded to administer them all to Severus, who finally took them without issue, though the mask remained in place.

"As soon as I pull it away, he starts gasping. We're going to have to keep it in place for now until we come up with a better solution." Augustus inclined closer to Severus and gently prodded his shoulder. "Severus Snape? Sir? Can you hear me?" Severus mumbled something but kept his eyes closed. "I need you to stay awake for a moment, all right? I need you to tell me where your pain is, if you can. I want to help you, but I need to know more."

Severus wearily opened his eyes and pointed a quivering hand towards the center of his chest. Augustus nodded in understanding.

"Nod or shake your head for me. Do you feel burning there? Achiness? Tightness in the chest? Any throbbing?" Severus faintly nodded a 'yes' to them all, continuing to try to catch his breath. "Anywhere else?" Augustus prodded, to which Severus slowly brought his hand to his brow, where it collapsed against his head. "Your head?" He asked about "headaches, shooting pains, pressing on the brain," all of which Severus agreed with. It was difficult for Hermione to watch and she found herself turning away a few times, just to try to compose herself. "Anywhere else? Any other unnatural pains or feelings?"

"I...don't...think...so..."

Augustus gave a slight bow. "Well, if you feel anything else, you tell Hermione, and she'll let me know, all right? For now, I'm going to let you rest. Those tonics should help ease some of the burning and aching sensations you're feeling. I gave you a heavy Sleeping Draught, too, to help you sleep, all right?"

Severus's head fell sideways. He said a few more muffled words that neither the Healer, nor Hermione, could make out. She could tell, however, that Augustus was just as shaken by the incident as she was and hadn't anticipated Severus's distressing response.

"That attack took a lot out of him. I'll find out more tomorrow. In the meantime, he should rest somewhat comfortably with the tonics I administered. I'm going to go speak to our Potion-makers about some of the symptoms he described. We should address his airway issues first. I don't want to keep him on this Muggle monitor if I can prevent it."

"All - All right," Hermione stammered, hardly able to speak. She collapsed into her chair, stunned and at a loss.

"Hermione?" She blinked and peered up at Augustus with fresh tears in her eyes. "I know this was a lot for you, and I'm terribly sorry. I... I've never seen someone react that poorly to _Anapneo_ before, or to any of the other spells I tried. Whatever this venom has done to him, it's exceedingly strong, and it's proving highly combative; more difficult than anything we've dealt with."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, her expression void of any sort of response, but then she brought a hand to her face, fell forward, and began to cry noiselessly. Though she hadn't cried much at all until now, stricken by what had happened Hermione could no longer suppress her anxieties and miserable heartache.

Augustus's mouth came together in a tight bind. He struggled to find whatever comforting words he could offer the young witch, suspecting it wouldn't do much good.

"Hermione, I know none of this sounds at all promising right now, but we're not giving up. This is something entirely new to us. Now that Severus is out of his unconscious state, I'll be able to examine him more in depth and speak to him at length about his symptoms, once he's feeling a little better. We'll try tomorrow, all right?"

Hermione stopped crying long enough to acknowledge his plans and wiped her tears on her sleeve. "How long will he be like this?" she managed after catching her breath.

"I... I don't know," Augustus confessed with a frown. "It's far too early to tell. But I won't give up on him, Hermione, if you won't."

Hermione stared him directly in the eyes. "All right," she sniveled, fighting the urge to break down again.

Augustus offered her a small smile, trying to look and sound reassuring. "I'll be back shortly." He exited the room without another word, leaving Hermione alone with a conscious Severus for the first time in almost a week.

He appeared to be asleep, but Hermione gathered his hand in both of hers and spoke close to his face anyhow. "Severus? Severus, can you hear me?"

Hermione didn't expect a response but wanted him to know she was still with him. To her utter surprise, Severus's eyelids wavered and opened. Hermione felt her heart catapult into her throat, and she reacted instantly by kissing his hand several times and forcing a smile.

"Hey, you."

"Hi..." he whispered back, his breathing still quite strained.

"Do you recognize me?"

Hermione thought she detected a very small, wonderful smile she had been missing behind the oxygen mask, and the very image of it squeezed her heart in two. "Hermione... Right?"

So he was trying to lighten the mood. Hermione could hardly believe it, and she voluntarily laughed through the tears that escaped her eyes.

"Well, that's a relief, you git! You scared the hell out of me."

Severus grunted and tried not to shut his eyes. "Yeah... I know..."

"Any better now? How are you feeling?"

"Tired..."

"I know. I'm sorry, Severus. Go back to sleep."

"Wha... What happened?"

"Later, Severus. You rest now. I'm sorry; I didn't think I'd actually wake you."

"I...don't mind..."

"Well, I do."

"How long...have I...been here?"

"Almost a week. Augustus kept you in a coma so that you wouldn't be in so much pain."

"Who?"

"Augustus Pye. He's looking after you. You remember him?"

"Oh... Yes." His dark eyes glimmered for a moment, and Hermione leaned in closer, unsure of what to make of his strange, almost desperate look. "Am I dying?" came his unexpected, startling question, his weary eyes looking about him with a wave of uncertainty.

Alarmed, Hermione kissed his hand in earnest and brushed his forehead with her hand, shaking her head back and forth at him. "No, Severus," she stumbled to find her voice. "No, love. It's all right. You're going to be fine."

"I am?"

"Yes. You - You're going to be all right."

He paused again to draw breath. "You...saved my life...didn't you?"

It was another question she hadn't anticipated, and it made her chest ache. "I— Yes, I suppose I did. Do you remember anything?"

"Not...much... No."

"Hush. You can tell me what you _do_ remember later after you've slept."

"But... You saved me..."

"Severus, it's all right. I—"

"Thank you," he whispered, his appreciation catching her off guard.

Hermione stared at him for a moment before she inclined her neck to place several kisses on his forehead. A few of her tears cascaded onto his skin, and she quickly wiped them away.

_What is there to thank?_ her mind reeled, tearing at her gut. _Look what you've done, Hermione. You've kept him alive so that he can suffer like this?_

That was what she wanted to say, but, instead, she mustered the strength not to. "Don't thank me, Severus. Your gratitude is unnecessary, remember?"

To her surprise once more, he chuckled, though it came out more like a cough. "Yes... I remember."

"Go to sleep now."

Hermione drew an arm across his chest to bring him into a warm embrace. Though drowsy, he fought to ask her one last question before dozing off.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, love?"

"You won't...leave...will you?"

It was so soft-spoken that, had Hermione been any further away, she probably wouldn't have heard him at all. Stifling the urge to cry, Hermione pecked his hand again several times, her tears falling freely.

"Of course not, silly," she replied, trying to keep things light, but her own desire to break down was brewing just below the surface. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here, Severus. Rest. I'll be here."

With that little dose of reassurance, Severus drifted off to sleep in seconds, muttering one last set of words before succumbing to what his ailing body needed. Hermione thought she heard an "I love you," but she didn't know for sure, so she covered her face with her hand again, her curls tumbling all around her flushed face, as she cried again, alone, for no one else to hear.

* * *

**A/N #2: More coming...  
**


	44. Conversations Worth Having

**A/N: This chapter is divided into two parts (and is also the longest one yet). The first half should give readers of the original story more insight into an ongoing issue that was very much a part of_ Unquestionable Love_. As to the second half, well, it's basically how I've always envisioned_ this_ important conversation taking place.**

** Thank you to everyone who's left feedback. It's been_ very_ encouraging and appreciated. I hope you'll offer me your thoughts on this one...  
**

**__****Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny.**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 44: Conversations Worth Having**

"I don't remember that."

"Well, you_ were_ unconscious. I was talking to you the whole way to the Great Hall. You couldn't hear me?"

"I... No."

Severus sighed heavily. The Muggle oxygen mask had been replaced by a magical alternative that was much closer to a respirator. To Hermione, however, it still resembled something Muggle-like, only it was invisible unless one was inches from his face. The only good thing about it, at least to Hermione, was that, despite still struggling to breathe, Severus sounded a far cry better than he had the previous day.

"So, everyone saw me?" he asked in a low drawl.

Hermione understood the inner humiliation Severus was feeling, and she gave his hand a tender squeeze. "Severus, it couldn't be helped. You _had_ to see Madame Pomfrey."

"Yes, well, even so..." He grumbled indecipherably and shut his eyes.

"Could you hear me at all when you were in your coma? I... I kept talking to you the past few days, thinking that maybe..."

"No, I couldn't hear anything."

Hermione was more than a tad disappointed. Nothing she had done up until now had made a shred of difference, and she couldn't help feeling ashamed, not to mention helpless. She listened for the pause in their conversation, waiting to see if Severus might address her again or simply doze off.

"Do you want to rest?" she pressed after a minute or two.

"No, I'm fine. I just...don't feel right..."

"Tell me more about when you lost consciousness. Augustus will want to know this."

"My whole body felt like it was on fire." He suddenly winced and stifled a yelp by turning away from her. "Kind of like it does now," he managed after catching his breath.

"Everywhere?"

"Yes... It comes and goes now, but before... It was constant. It wouldn't stop."

Hermione swallowed hard. "So, for the hours that I was gone, you were in constant pain?"

Severus rolled his head towards her and took a deep breath. "Don't, Hermione."

"What?"

"I told you to go; I encouraged you to leave. I don't want you blaming yourself."

_Sweet man._ Hermione shook her head and tried to keep from frowning. _I don't deserve that from you..._

Severus rubbed his cheek against his pillow, in need of any warmth the bed might supply. He still felt freezing to the touch, which alarmed Hermione enough, and his lips remained an unsettling shade of blue.

Evidently, he wasn't getting enough blood supply to his heart; Augustus couldn't pinpoint the cause for it, except the venom itself. The Healer scrambled to get Severus something to offset this long-lasting effect, but so far, nothing had worked very well.

Today, Augustus had gone to the Potion-makers on call yet again to see what they might be able to whip up for him in a timely fashion, but Hermione was growing increasingly worried the longer the Healer was gone. She rubbed the back of his hand with both of hers in an attempt to bring his body some much desired heat.

"Feel anything yet?"

Severus's subsequent shiver told Hermione his answer. "No, not yet."

"Hang in there. Something's got to give soon."

"I don't understand..."

"Neither do I, love, but I'm right here with you, all right?"

"You won't go?"

Hermione felt the weight of her chest pressing on her heart. He had asked her several times that morning alone whether or not she would up and leave, and it pained her to hear him repeating his insecurity over and over again.

"Of course not. I'm staying put. You can't get rid of me."

Severus laughed a little but then trembled, and his teeth started chattering. "I'm so cold..." he stammered through the shivers.

Hermione tightened her grip on his hand. "We'll get you warm soon, I promise." She bit her lip and tried to distract him by continuing to ask questions. "Comes and goes?"

"Yes..."

Hermione scooted onto the bed and brought Severus into her arms with ease. Transfiguring a jacket of hers that had been thrown into her beaded bag, Hermione produced a heavy comforter, heated it with her wand, and bundled it around his quivering form. He had a handful of blankets already, but they evidently weren't enough to suffice.

"Thank you," he sighed gratefully, nudging his head against her shoulder.

"Hush. No thanking me for trying to do something useful." She looked him over thoughtfully. "So you're going hot and cold continuously, you're heart's not getting enough blood supply, and you're having a hard time breathing. I guess that explains the heart murmur... What the hell's in that venom?"

It was more of a rhetorical question that she didn't expect Severus to answer, but he did, nevertheless. "I thought it was the same Dark Magic...from when Arthur Weasley was bitten; but I guess I was wrong..."

Hermione straightened. "Severus, what are you talking about?"

"I thought I told you this?"

Hermione sighed and tried not to look visibly disturbed. Severus had been relatively confused ever since waking up. It wasn't a matter of patience for Hermione, only she hated seeing him so unlike himself. He was never forgetful, and Hermione and Augustus concluded that it must be another effect of the venom working its hold on him.

Hermione absentmindedly pressed him to her. She shook her head, giving him an empathetic look.

"No, love, you didn't tell me."

"I... I could have sworn I did."

"No, you didn't."

"Oh..."

"It's the venom, Severus. It's not you."

Severus winced again and moaned through the pain, "What's happening to me?"

"I - I don't know, but hang on, all right? We'll figure it out soon."

"I hate it here."

"So do I." She lightly kissed his forehead. "Hang on. We're going to get you well."

"But I'm...tired..."

"I know, Severus; I know. Augustus will be back soon."

"Where's my wand?"

His unexpected inquiry caused her to give him a questioning look over. She had told him several times where it was, but he couldn't seem to retain the information.

"It's in my pocket, Severus, remember? I have it, so don't worry."

"I want it..."

"Well, you can't have it. Not right now."

"It's mine," he tried to hiss, but his stubborn effort was weak and futile.

"I _know_ it's yours. Trust me, I'm as apprehensive as you about carrying around a wand that isn't mine, particularly _yours_." In an effort to distract him, she coerced him to give her an answer. "You were saying about Nagini's venom?"

Severus shifted as close to her as possible, and Hermione brought him more securely into her arms. "Before Mr. Weasley was bitten, the Dark Lord... He told me about tampering with Nagini's venom."

"Tampering?"

"Yes; apparently, her poisonous venom wasn't enough... He wasn't satisfied, so he... He advanced it, made adjustments, added further elements of Dark Magic. The bite wasn't enough to satisfying him."

"What did he add, Severus?"

"You already know, my dear."

He cringed again in her arms, his entire body going stiff as a board. For a moment, he was incapable of speaking, leaving Hermione to helplessly whisper and hold onto him. She hated being able to do nothing but hug him and offer quiet words of encouragement. She knew it wasn't doing him any good.

"So the symptoms Mr. Weasley had: not being able to stop bleeding, fatigue, and the like. He added those elements?"

"Yes."

"That's how you were able to find a cure, wasn't it?"

This time, Severus's _wasn't _confused or forgetful. He peered up at her, visibly surprised.

"How do you know about that?"

Hermione smiled down at him patiently. "Augustus told me." When Severus snarled, albeit faintly, Hermione snuggled closer. "Don't be mad at him. He didn't know that I wasn't aware of the fact. And anyway, why can't I know about it?"

After a moment, Severus let out a heavy sigh and gave up on the matter. "Just don't tell any of the Weasleys, Hermione, all right?"

"Why are you so adamant about them not knowing, Severus? You saved his life."

"Because I don't want any gratitude."

"You never do," she returned with a disapproving grumble.

"What?"

"Never mind. I guess Voldemort added to Nagini's venom again, didn't he?"

"He must have... After Mr. Weasley's injuries, I guess he left me in the dark about any adjustments he made. Here I've been trying to find a better antidote to Mr. Weasley's bite... And it all would have been useless if I'd found a cure anyhow..."

Hermione pulled a part of the heated comforter over herself as well and brought her arms beneath the covers to hold him properly; but when her fingers made contact with his skin and relentless tremors, she startled. "Merlin, you _are_ frozen." She rubbed her hands vigorously up and down his arms and shoulders. "You just can't get warm, can you?"

"No... But that helps."

Severus buried his face in the nape of her neck, a small gesture Hermione had missed more than she realized. It actually brought her to tears, but she willed herself not to cry. She had done enough of that last night whilst he slept.

To her relief, Augustus finally reemerged with several new tonics in hand, which he quickly administered. Severus took them without much hesitation. If he were in a healthier state, Hermione knew he would have pushed the Healer's efforts away, and that gave her pause to reflect on how bad the situation really was.

Hermione informed Augustus of what Severus had been feeling while unconscious at Hogwarts. The Healer asked Severus to explain his symptoms more in depth, something Severus wasn't at all comfortable sharing, though he still complied.

Little did Severus know that that would turn into a daily ritual, and each day thereafter began to feel the same as the last. Not only was he not getting well, but other symptoms were starting to arise. Every time he tried a different tonic or spell, either some other part of him would be horribly affected, or the venom would find some alternative way to combat the inflictions in question.

After nearly a week, Severus was growing agitated. Initially, Hermione thought he was just antsy at being held in the confinements of his room, and not being able to get up or move about much either; but Hermione soon realized that it wasn't this matter alone. Something else was going on. Severus wasn't just getting antsier, he was getting angrier.

"Get off my back!" he snarled, wheezing hard, as she inquired after him one late afternoon.

"I wasn't aware that I was on you," she replied as patiently as she could. She knew Severus wasn't entirely himself and couldn't pinpoint the recent outbursts he had been having. "All I did was ask about your chest pains. They've been going on a while now, Severus. I think I should tell Augustus to get you something."

"No!"

"Severus, you _need _some relief."

"That fool will just give me something else that won't work!"

"Severus, your case is entirely new to the field," she issued calmly, trying to keep in mind how debilitated he must be feeling. "It's not his fault. Your case is new to everyone, and obviously very difficult to control. Augustus is doing the best that he can."

_And it had all better be enough_, she reflected privately, holding back her fears. _It _has _to be enough..._

"He doesn't know what the hell he's doing!" Severus rasped. He attempted to sit up in bed but fell back in a heap against his pillows. "I could come up with something far faster than any of these idiots!"

"Don't get cocky, Severus."

"_It's the truth!_"

"Severus, stop! You're getting yourself far too excited."

"NO!" Severus flailed his arms madly, causing Hermione to jump back from where she stood next to his bed. "I want out! I want to get out of here!"

Hermione tried to ease him back into bed but he wouldn't comply. "I know you do, love, but you can't go anywhere yet—"

"Yes, I can! I don't _have_ to stay here! And you can't make me!"

"Oh, stop it, would you?"

"I'm not staying here anymore!"

"Severus, for goodness' sake, stop shouting!"

"Why? Does it embarrass you?" he hissed, as he made a second attempt to get out of bed.

"What? No! You're just being irrational and out of sorts!"

"_You're not the one going through this!_"

At this, Hermione couldn't help feeling slighted. She narrowed her eyes into slits and stared him down with contempt.

"Oh, don't you dare, Severus Snape! I'm as much in this as you are!"

Severus snorted and sneered. "Merlin knows why!"

"What?" When Severus didn't answer, just snarled and bared his teeth at her, Hermione finally lost her patience. "Have you forgotten that _I'm_ the one who's been here with you this whole time, worrying about you and trying to support you and help you get well? Or are you _really_ that selfish?"

Severus finally managed to fling his legs over the side of the bed. He hunched over, breathing laboriously, but there was something changing about him before her eyes that Hermione couldn't place, and didn't like at all. Something in his face that looked strange and unnatural, almost frightening...

"Why the hell are you here?" he barked, pounding the bed with his fists. "Why don't you just go! LEAVE!"

Hermione reared back, hurt and stunned. "Why would you say that to me?" she whispered dejectedly. Even if he wasn't himself, having him tell her off was painful.

"BECAUSE!"

"Severus, please stop yelling—"

Severus whipped his head up at her—several black hairs falling directly into his eyes—with a manifesting rage that was only worsening. "I DON'T CARE!" he crowed, though his voice was alarmingly hoarse when he tried to shout. "JUST GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

There was no trace of the Severus she knew in those demands or that face, and it startled her on the spot. Her feet went numb. She tentatively reached out to touch his shoulder, her patience and concern returning.

"Severus, what on earth is the matter?"

"_YOU!_" he shouted, his chest heaving violently. "You're my problem! LEAVE ME!"

"Severus—"

"LET ME BE!"

Hermione was dumbfounded. For a moment, all she could do was gawk at him, watching his fury manifest in a way she had never seen before. Even when she was his student, she had never seen Severus _this_ infuriated with anyone, not even Harry. Had she really brought such wrath out of him?

_No... This is something else... This isn't him..._

"Severus, please," she tried again but to no avail.

Severus flung his hands in the air again, causing her to rear back. "NO!"

"Just calm down—"

"_GO!_"

"Please—"

"I said go! Or I'll..."

Severus's face suddenly coiled into an expression of torment and agony. He clamped his hands to his head and yanked at his hair, smacked and pounded his head furiously, cursed obscenities, and cried out in pain all at the same time. Hermione was horrified. Not only was he infuriated, but he was taking his rage out on himself, as if he were having an internal battle with his own mind.

Hermione jumped back at first, watching in a paralyzed silence, but then she crouched down quickly to pry his hands away from his head, but it was extremely trying and difficult. He fought her every effort to prevent him from hurting himself, snarling and cursing and sputtering against her efforts.

"Severus! What on earth— "

"I'll do it! I'LL DO IT!"

"What are you—"

Severus smacked his head with his hands so hard that Hermione nearly thought he would give himself a concussion. Her eyes expanded, terrified by the violence he was displaying.

"I'LL DO IT! _I'LL DO IT!_"

"Severus, _stop!_ You're hurting yourself!"

"NO! GET AWAY!"

Hermione tried to reach for her wand in her pocket and was shocked when Severus slapped it right out of her hands. It tumbled to the floor and rolled away out of sight.

"_What are you doing?_" she gasped. "_Please_, Severus! STOP! Don't! _SEVERUS!_"

Severus's abruptly ceased waving his arms, as if on command. His raven eyes flickered wildly for a moment before growing aware of the situation. They slowly focused in on Hermione, his mouth falling open and his chin threatening to buckle and give way. He was evidently just as stricken by his own behavior as she was, and for an agonizing moment, he couldn't speak.

Hermione cautiously removed her grip on one of his wrists and cupped his face in her hands. "_Severus,"_ she urged, desperate to reach him, _"what's wrong?_"

"I... What?"

Hermione drew back a little. "Why were you yelling and beating yourself like that?"

"I... I did?"

"_Yes, Severus!_" Her eyebrows came together in alarm. "Why did you do that? _Why?_"

His brow furrowed, confused. "I... I don't know..."

"Well, you scared the hell out of me!"

"I... I'm sorry... I don't... I don't understand... What did I do?"

Hermione's worry mounted at the horrifying reality that he couldn't remember. Severus was entirely disoriented, not showing any indication of knowing what had just happened. Hermione brushed a few hairs out of his eyes and inched closer.

"Don't you remember?" she asked him quietly and with newfound composure.

"No... No, I - I don't... I'm sorry... What did I say? Did I do something?"

"You were screaming and cursing and smacking yourself, Severus. You _really_ can't remember?"

Severus shook and cast his eyes to the floor. He still looked confounded but also deeply ashamed. Something wasn't right, and Hermione knew it. Forgetting what he had said for the moment, Hermione crouched low and wrapped her arms around him, hearing him actually whimper into her neck.

"It's all right, Severus," she tried to soothe him, and felt his hands reach around her back to grab ahold of her clothing.

"No..."

"It's all right. Hush. It's all right; it's over now."

"But... I don't... I can't remember..."

"Severus, _talk to me_. What's going on?"

"I - I don't know... I don't understand."

Hermione hated hearing how impaired he sounded, and his relentless tremors against her body were also disheartening to feel. "Can you try and describe it to me? Whatever you can?"

"I... I was so angry. I thought I could..."

"What, Severus?" she pressed gently.

"I thought I could hurt you..."

"Well, what you said to me _did_ hurt—"

"No, not like that."

Hermione went rigid. "Oh..." She pulled back to look at him properly, heartbroken to find him visibly distraught and not meeting her gaze. "What else?"

"Everything went black. I... I don't remember anything after that..." Severus slowly peered up at her, reaching out tentatively to brush his quivering fingers against her lips. "Did - Did I hurt you?"

"No, _of course not_, Severus."

"But did I... Did I try?"

"You knocked my wand out of my hand, but that was all. You just kept saying, 'I'll do it,' over and over again and hit yourself."

"Oh... I..."

Severus didn't say anything, lost for words. There was sweat on his brow and nothing but shame and sadness decipherable in his eyes. It sucked the life out of Hermione, and what he asked her again nearly broke her heart.

"What's happening to me?"

He looked and sounded both hurt and mortified. In only the second time Hermione could remember, he seemed genuinely afraid, but not of anyone else, only himself.

Hermione embraced him again without a word and felt the power of his own hug back. "I'm so sorry," he apologized profusely, his voice unsteady. "I don't know what happened. I - I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm so sorry, Hermione..."

"It's all right now, Severus. It's over. It's all over now."

"But..."

"We'll figure it out, love. Don't worry."

"But I don't know why..."

"It's something to do with the venom. It's toying with your temperament. You weren't yourself at all."

"But... How? I don't understand..."

Hermione nuzzled closer, crestfallen by his confusion. "What is it, love?"

"Wha - What exactly did I say?"

"It's not worth repeating," she replied a little too hastily. "Don't think on it, Severus. It's over now."

"I... I'm sorry."

"You're becoming as bad as me, you know that?" Hermione tried to laugh it off, but Severus wasn't having any of it. Turning her head towards him, she kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, "No more apologizing, all right? I'm not angry with you. This isn't your fault, Severus."

Severus buried his face in her mass of curls, still trembling, and didn't say another word. After several minutes, Hermione reluctantly inched back from him and kissed the top of his head.

"C'mon, love, let's get you back into bed. You're shaking terribly. You need to lie down."

* * *

"How many times today?"

"Three."

"_Three?_"

"It's all right, Augustus. I was able to get him to calm down. Really, I had it settled."

"Yes, well, if he had had his wand handy, Hermione, or gotten ahold of yours, for that matter, things could've gone quite differently."

"He doesn't understand Augustus. He's described them as blackouts. He doesn't remember what he says or what he does, only that everything goes blank, and he feels violently angry beforehand."

Augustus paused to jot down a few notes with his quill. "I don't think you should be alone with him, Hermione. He's unstable, and until we come up with a combination of tonics to help his condition, his behavior will continue to be unpredictable."

"No, please, Augustus," Hermione tried to insist. "That will only mortify him and make him feel much, much worse."

"I still think—"

"He feels bad enough as it is, Augustus. I _won't_ do that to him. I can take care of it."

Augustus sighed, defeated. "I'll allow it for now, but if he gets worse, Hermione, I _will_ have one of these Aurors stay in here with you. No exceptions."

"Fair enough."

It had been nearly three weeks since the demise of Voldemort, and yet, the evil wizard's presence still lingered in the room Hermione and Severus occupied. He simply wouldn't go; his vile magic wouldn't leave.

Hermione glanced sideways at Severus, who was, for the moment, fast asleep. He had probably gotten more sleep the past few weeks than he had in his entire life, something Hermione considered rather fondly as she turned back to address the Healer.

"Any luck with getting him to eat this afternoon?" Augustus asked, voicing another concern.

"Not much, no. He's barely eaten anything all day."

"I hate to do it, Hermione, but we may have to resort to the Muggle IV drip again if he won't take anything by mouth. I'll give him the rest of this evening, but if he doesn't develop more of an appetite by tomorrow morning, we'll need to forcefully get him some nutrients."

"I understand. He... He won't be happy about that—"

"I know he won't, but it's necessary."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply when movement over the Healer's shoulder diverted her attention. A pair of familiar green eyes and round glasses came into view.

"Harry!" she exclaimed.

"Hey, 'Mione," he greeted with a friendly grin. He nodded to Augustus, who did the same. "Sorry to interrupt."

"It's no trouble," said Augustus. He turned to Hermione. "I'll be back to check on him in a few hours."

With that, the Healer disappeared, and Hermione rushed to greet her friend, encasing him in a warm hug. Harry hadn't been by in over a week, and he was still the first, and only, visitor she routinely had.

"I'm sorry I haven't come by sooner," he confessed, shamefaced. "We've all been working like mad to get things back to normal at the school, at the Ministry... It's been a bit of a mess. Everyone's pitching in."

"I understand. It's good to see you though."

"Yeah, we've missed you. The Weasleys apologize for not coming. They've been doing their own fair share of helping the new Minister and, well..."

Hermione waited for Harry to finish, but when he didn't, she frowned heavily. "Fred." She let out a forlorn sigh that Harry matched. "I understand. Mrs. Weasley must be beside herself. And George..."

"He's taking it the hardest. Not surprising, really."

"I would imagine, yes."

Harry quickly brushed his hand through his messy, dark tresses. "Let's not talk about this. Some other time, perhaps."

Hermione nodded agreeably and followed the direction of Harry's eyes towards the bed where Severus lay sleeping. "I was hoping to maybe talk to him a little today, but it seems I've come at a bad time?"

"Oh, well, he's been out for several hours. He'll probably wake up soon if you want to stick around?"

"Yeah, all right."

Harry situated himself in the familiar sofa chair while Hermione sat on the opposite end of Severus's bed. As Hermione surveyed her friend, she was surprised to find him nervous, fidgeting with his hands in his lap or shaking one leg.

"You all right, Harry?" she inquired, looking him over with care.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You?"

"I'm all right. Those Aurors constantly stationed outside Severus's room make me a little perturbed, but..."

"I know. I'm sorry. It really is for the best."

"I know, and thanks."

"Sure thing."

"So... Why hasn't anyone else come by? I would have thought..."

Hermione already knew why but couldn't refrain from asking. She had been hurt before over the matter, but now she was starting to get miffed. Sure, Severus didn't have many friends, but in light of what he had done—for the benefit of so many—she thought more of his colleagues or members of the Order might at the very least have stopped by to offer their well wishes and support.

_Such a fool, Hermione..._

She hated the silent confirmation that came from Harry, telling her that Severus would receive no understanding or acceptance. Not just yet, anyway.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione," he whispered. "There's been a lot of talk. I'm trying to stay on top of things, but it's difficult."

"No,_ I'm_ sorry, Harry," she returned with a burdensome sigh. "I should be the one taking care of all this. It... It really shouldn't all fall on your shoulders to defend him—"

"No, 'Mione," Harry insisted, standing firm. "Snape gave me those memories for a reason. They were given to me, so _I_ should be the one to tell people the truth. I'm fine with it, really."

Hermione didn't have the energy to argue. "Very well."

"How's he doing?"

"All right... His heart and lungs are improving, but he's not anywhere near being well, or well enough to leave. And he's been a little," Hermione paused, choosing her next words carefully, "out of sorts lately..."

"Really?" Harry eyed her, perplexed. "How so?"

"Um, well..."

"It's all right, 'Mione, you can tell me."

"He's just been very angry... To the point that he'll hurt himself and say things to me—hurtful things—that he'd _never_ say in his right frame of mind."

"You sure about that?"

Harry had meant it as a joke, but Hermione couldn't accept her friend's lighthearted jab at Severus's expense. Instead, her eyes practically turned into slits, and Harry immediately backed down with a frown.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione. I didn't mean it like that, honest."

"Yeah, well, if you'd heard what he was saying or saw what he does to himself—"

"I understand—"

"No, you don't!" she snapped and turned away. Harry kept silent, more than a little uncomfortable with how the conversation had turned. Hermione brushed a few hairs away from Severus's face, and her expression became less harsh than before. "He's going through a lot that none of us understand, Harry, including me. You haven't been here to see it. You _don't_ know..."

"You're right, I... I don't. But you should understand, too, 'Mione, that he's treated me quite differently than he's treated you."

There wasn't any bitterness to that remark, only frankness. Hermione eyed her friend cautiously, attempting to read past Harry's strong exterior.

"I know, Harry. I understand where you're coming from; but don't forget that he treated me the same way at one time."

"Yeah, well, you didn't get the brunt of it like I did."

"You're right; that's true..."

"I know you said that Snape doesn't hate me, but, well, he _did_ do a bloody good job of making me think so."

"You're right, he did," Hermione answered, choosing to be forthright instead of gentle. "He never tried to dissuade you or anyone else from thinking ill of him. It's understandable why you thought he probably hated you, Harry, but he really didn't, and he doesn't now."

Harry kept his mouth shut, quietly turning his attention from Hermione to Severus, who was starting to stir. Hermione instantly brought her face close to his and took his hand in hers.

"Severus?"

He mumbled something she didn't understand, but she already sensed what he needed by the time he could formulate words. "Can I... Water?" he requested in a very hoarse voice that rattled Harry to hear. It didn't sound like the once powerful wizard at all.

Hermione brought a cup to his lips, and Severus downed the fresh liquid in a few gulps. Then he opened his eyes, smiling faintly at the pretty hue of caramel that met his sight.

"Hi..."

"Hey," Hermione readily returned his smile. "How are you feeling?"

"All right."

"You have a visitor."

Severus's dark eyes flickered uneasily. "What?" Harry knew the wizard still wasn't quite awake yet, and that made him feel horrible, but he remained seated. "Who?"

Hermione nodded towards Harry to his right, and Severus slowly peered over at where the young man was, sitting reservedly and politely waiting to be addressed. Harry gave a bow of his head and attempted to smile, but it came off more like a nervous twitch. It felt far too strange for the Boy Who Lived to be smiling at the man who had, only weeks ago, been his sworn enemy.

"Potter?" Severus murmured, visibly stunned to find him sitting at his bedside. Severus's face instantly hardened, traces of the bitter professor Harry and Hermione knew returning like the flickering of a candle.

"Hello, sir," Harry managed, albeit awkwardly. "I'm sorry for disturbing you. I came to see how you're doing and... To talk, if possible?"

Sensing what it was the boy wanted, Severus grunted uncomfortably and tried to shift the pillows behind him so that he could sit upright. It was only then that the covers dropped down from Severus's neck and Harry caught another glimpse of the prominent snake bites, large, brutal and unmistakable. He inadvertently swallowed at the sight of them, finding it difficult not to stare without being rude, but Severus didn't notice.

Once Hermione helped Severus get situated more comfortably, something Harry could tell the professor was mortified over, Severus eyed Harry with an uneasy twitch of his own. "Talk about what, Potter?" He tried to sound crass and annoyed, but his voice was alarmingly more strained than anything else. "As you can see, I'm a little incapacitated at the moment."

"I - I know, sir. Again, I'm sorry to be a bother. I won't keep you long, Professor. I promise."

"What is it?" Severus inhaled sharply and focused instead on Hermione, who gave him an encouraging look, one that Harry hoped would make this conversation go a lot easier than what he was anticipating.

"I wanted to ask you about those memories you gave me... That night in the Shrieking Shack... I saw them, sir; I saw them all, and I'd just like to ask you some questions, if - if that's all right?"

Harry could tell the man was still quite drained and tired, and he felt a twinge of guilt for pressing him for answers, but he simply couldn't wait any longer for clarity. There was a long, stifling pause, however, before Severus answered him.

"What would you like to know?"

Harry's eyes shifted towards Hermione, whose hand was rubbing up and down Severus's left arm, over the permanent Dark Mark that, even from a short distance, was easily recognizable. Harry nearly jolted in his chair but managed to keep his expression neutral. The sight of the Dark Mark and one of his closest friends touching it without a glimmer of concern or disgust gave Harry pause.

"Well, you and my mother. I... I had no idea you knew her so well, that you were such close friends at one time. I was just wondering if you could tell me more about her? About both of you? It would seem that you knew her better than most."

Hermione's ears perked up. Severus had given her an overview of his relationship with Harry's mother, but this was much more specific. She felt a gentle tug on the hand she was holding and glanced at Severus, who seemed to be waiting silently on her permission to speak about the other great love in his life. She was rather amazed by that and smiled at him reassuringly.

"It's all right, Severus. I don't mind. Go ahead."

Severus closed his eyes momentarily, as if to muster the energy to speak, and turned to Harry with a sober expression. "You won't like everything I have to say, Potter. I've held onto some resentment towards your mother over the years that's admittedly all my known, but it doesn't change how I feel."

"I... I understand."

"Yes, well, you still won't like it." Severus's upper lip turned into an unpleasant curl. "I loved your mother from the time we were kids. Up until..." He paused to glance at the young woman seated beside him. "Well, you already know, so I don't have to spell it out."

Harry was hardly at ease with this new territory—this idea of his best friend and the former Head of Slytherin House—and it was exceedingly strange hearing it from the man's own mouth, but, for the moment, Harry tried to act like it didn't matter. He nodded his head and encouraged Severus to continue.

"I considered Lily to be my one and only true friend from the time we were children. You've seen the memories, so you're already aware of my regard for her. Even after what I did—even after what I said to her—I continued to love her... I'm not sure if she ever knew how I felt; I never shared my deeper sentiments with Lily, but I suspect, in hindsight, she probably knew, if she thought about me at all..."

"I think she might have, sir."

"You can't speak for your mother, Potter," Severus stated firmly but without malice. "She's not here to confirm or deny that for certain."

"Well, even so... I think she did."

"I know you think very highly of your parents. You didn't know them, and I suppose that's only natural to want to think the best of those whom you've lost, but then I really wouldn't know. I had a very different upbringing; one that didn't allow me to always perceive matters objectively, or with the peculiar optimism that you and so many others share.

"Lily was very good to me growing up. We played a lot together as kids, and aside from your aunt, I was welcomed at the Evans' home. I didn't visit often. I was too embarrassed with how I looked, but Lily didn't seem to mind or care and I appreciated that a lot.

"Once we got to Hogwarts, however, things changed, and quite drastically. Lily became a different person. I did, too, on account of the crowd I was hanging out with, but I still loved Lily and enjoyed her company and tried to stay friends with her, but it was difficult. At least, for her. Your father had a hand in the matter, but this is coming from a deep-seated hatred I've long held for him.

"I don't think I'm unjustified in my personal beliefs, and you're free to dispute them as you wish; but make no mistake, Potter: your father, Black, and the whole lot of their friends made my life miserable. I can't recall everything that I supplied to you from my past, but I ended up in the hospital wing numerous times thanks to your father and godfather. They never left me alone. Not in the seven years I was there. I could never get a break or find a place to hide, and I'll resent what they put me through the rest of my days. It's too deeply embedded in me now to let it go."

Harry didn't say anything, only lowered his head a little, his mouth cast into a frown, as Severus continued, "I gave it back to them whenever I could, partly because I was angry, but also simply to protect myself. If I couldn't physically do so, then I'd try by any other means necessary to defend myself. Your father was never alone in tormenting me, and I didn't have anyone to stand up for me, save for Lily when she sparingly told them off. Lily never approved of the Dark Magic I'd often try to use against them, and yet, she didn't exactly condone what the Marauders did to me; at least, not after we stopped speaking.

"As I've said, I loved your mother—a part of me will always be fond of her because of the friendship she showed me that no one else was willing to give—but I'll tell you something else, Potter; something that took me a long time to discover that only Hermione helped me realize." Hermione stirred at this, curious as to what Severus was getting at. "As much as I cared for your mother, and she _was_ a very good person at heart, Hermione, just being the kind of person she is, showed me that Lily isn't the picturesque saint she's undoubtedly been portrayed as in your mind. She enjoyed being popular, for one, and, as you came to see from my memories, was unwilling to forgive. Hermione wouldn't turn her back on you or Mr. Weasley, in all the years she's known you, if either of you called her a... Well, you know what I mean. She'd be angry, yes, and she would have every reason for it, but, ultimately, she'd forgive you. That's what's helped me separate your friend from your mother.

"For what I said to Lily, I blame myself, and did so for a very long time. Her gesture to save you was noble—I couldn't possibly dispute that—but she was just as flawed as the rest of us, Potter. She wasn't perfect."

"Didn't my mother _try_ to stop you from being bullied though?" Harry prodded, obviously searching for a more positive reflection of his mother. "Shouldn't my mum get some credit for standing up for you when she did?"

"If you're referring to that incident that you saw in the Pensieve in your fifth year, Potter, then you should hear it from me: it was said in anger, in the heat of the moment. Surely, you can relate to sputtering idiotic things you don't necessarily mean when caught off your guard or upset?" Harry's eyes narrowed a bit, but he ignored the slight. "If it wasn't obvious to you from the memories I gave, I _did_ lament what I said to your mother. It's something I'll _always _regret. She didn't deserve it. And I _did_ attempt to apologize to her. If you choose to dismiss that particular memory of mine, that's your decision, but I offered up an apology, one that I meant wholeheartedly and that, to me, was sincere.

"Lily refused to accept it and severed our friendship without a second thought. I knew she was hurt—and she had every right to be—but I honestly didn't believe she wouldn't at least hear me out or perhaps forgive my transgression later on. I never would have thought she'd give up on me so easily, after knowing each other for so long... I thought Lily would have known me better, that she'd understand that I didn't mean to say something so vulgar, that _that wasn't me_. Apparently, I was wrong..."

Harry cast his eyes to the floor, waiting for Severus to continue uninterrupted. "The Prophecy is my second regret. I didn't know it spoke of your parents, Potter. Had I known, I wouldn't have ever informed the Dark Lord. I still loved your mother, and the prospect of losing her, even if we were no longer on speaking terms and she had moved on in life, was too difficult to bear.

"Mind you, it wasn't for you that I went to Dumbledore for help. It was for Lily, Potter, and it always was for her. My agreement in protecting you was _because_ of your mother. I confess, it was for purely selfish reasons, but there you have it."

"I... I know, sir." Harry's cheeks flushed red as he stared into Severus's black eyes anew, taking a moment to find his voice. "I'm sorry for what my parents put you through. I... I didn't know. I wasn't aware of the bullying, or the fallout, or the close friendship you had with my mother."

Severus's mouth tightened. "There's no way you would have known. I purposely kept that from you."

"May I ask why?"

"I suspect you already know, Potter."

There was a long, drawn out silence before Harry slowly nodded his head, then whispered, rather painfully, "My father."

"Yes, Potter."

"But I - I'm not him, sir—"

"I'm well aware of that, Potter, thank you," Severus snarled, though his bite was weaker than usual.

"I take it that _that's_ why you dislike me so much? Because of my resemblance to the man that bullied you? Because I'm Lily's son and you loved her nearly all your life and hoped that she'd end up with you and not my father? Because I'm the reflection of everything you hate?"

It was Severus's turn to go red, and his eyes narrowed considerably. A heat trickled up his chest to his face, making his cheeks burn with a mixture of humiliation and anger.

"That's one way to put it," he hissed, to which Hermione tugged on their intertwined hands. Severus's anger subsided enough that he didn't retort something snide, instead waiting for Harry to inquire further.

"I don't think a lot of what you said and did to me was justified, Professor, but I'd rather not get into that right now."

"Nor would I."

Harry quickly added, "I'd like to ask you about... About Dumbledore. There are a few things I _have_ to know."

Hermione could feel Severus's grip tightening around her hand. "Like what?"

There was an agonizing gap in the conversation before Harry stared directly into Severus's eyes again. "Why?"

The infamous line between Severus's eyebrows formed. "Why _what_, Potter?"

"Why didn't he, or even you, tell me about the Horcruxes? Why wasn't I told long ago about who I am—_was_, rather—and the purpose I'd serve in Voldemort's demise?"

Severus didn't move or flinch. He stared at the young man beside him with a different demeanor, one he had never bestowed upon Harry before. It was gentler and not at all abrasive or cross. To Severus, in that moment, Harry resembled his younger self—that small eleven-year-old from Privet Drive—completely oblivious to who he would grow to be, of what his fate would become, and where he stood in the professor's life.

"Would you have really wanted to know back then that you were, in all likelihood, going to die, Potter? How would you have gotten through school? How would you have gone through life? If you'd known your fate all those years ago, how would you have taken to the everyday? How would you have coped?"

Severus paused to allow his rhetorical questions to sink in, and Hermione was admittedly impressed by the new softness in her wizard's voice; a pitch he had reserved strictly for her until now.

"I wanted to tell you sooner, Potter, but I wasn't permitted to say anything. Dumbledore said no, and he was supposed to tell you at the beginning of term last year but... Well, he never got around to it, I'm afraid. I encouraged him, but there was only so much I could do. If that information had come from me, you wouldn't have believed it anyhow. You didn't trust me, and I didn't discourage you from mistrusting me."

"I see."

Severus angled his head. "You're disappointed in him?"

"Yes," Harry replied with a gravitational sadness, "I am."

Severus glanced over at Hermione. She could tell he was fatigued but rather adamant about getting this over with. There was also an emotion present she hadn't expected to find: sympathy for her best friend. She could only pray Harry had caught Severus's underlying reaction before he addressed the young man's great disappointment.

"Dumbledore wasn't perfect, Potter; far from it. He cared about you, yes, but only to a certain extent. You were still the means to an end to him and always would be. I don't say that to be cruel to you. It's the truth. That was always the man's true nature. He was as selfish as the rest of them; unwilling to get his hands dirty and unwilling to think long and hard before he put people in danger, so long as the end result served its purpose and justified the means.

"He toyed with my life as much as he toyed with yours. He played to your needs and used you, just as he used me. This doesn't necessarily make him a bad man, only flawed and misguided, like most of us. This taints your high opinion of him, I know, but Dumbledore wasn't without his own share of shortcomings, Potter, and you're a grown man now. You need to come to terms with the realities of who Albus Dumbledore really was, and that's something only you can do on your own, just as I have."

Harry didn't say anything right away. He blinked and acknowledged Severus's advice with a respectable bow. Hermione could sense Harry's deep hurt, as if it were radiating right out of him and filling the room to capacity. She wanted to interject and offer him some sort of comfort, but this conversation wasn't meant for her to intrude upon, so she closed her mouth and eyed both men attentively.

"And when you..." Harry stopped himself, trying to reshuffle his thoughts. "When he asked you to kill him, sir, you didn't see any way around it?"

Severus considered Harry's question for a lengthy pause, then decidedly shook his head. "No, Potter. There wasn't any way around it. If there was, I'd have never done what I did. The act was in Mr. Malfoy's hands at the time, and I don't care what your personal gripes are against that boy, _no one_—student or otherwise—should have their soul ripped apart. It shouldn't be torn against their will, nor should they be forced to perform something that goes against their principles, against nature, against _everything_. He had little choice in the matter, but _I did_. Dumbledore asked it of me, and I wasn't going to deny the man his last wish: to _not_ be tortured, and to receive a quick send off instead."

Harry's mouth flinched. "So, when he begged you that night on the Astronomy Tower... He was asking you to kill him, wasn't he?"

Severus answered the boy's reply with an affirmative "yes." Harry ran his fingers through his unkempt hair and rubbed at his forehead. It was a lot to process and take in, and Hermione suspected that it was the confirmation of it all that was proving more difficult for Harry to rationalize than even _he_ anticipated.

"I'm sorry that he put you through that, Professor," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I can't imagine having to do that myself. I can't imagine _asking _that of someone. To request that another person damage their soul to spare my own end. That... That's selfish. That wasn't right of him, no matter what purpose it served. It wasn't right."

Severus was floored by the boy's remarks but made a point of not letting it show. "Nor is it right that someone of your age be forced to kill their Headmaster, Potter. There's no black and white to that particular circumstance. There just isn't."

"Yes... You're right." Harry glanced down at his hands that were now twisting into knots. "May I ask you something else?"

Severus sighed, not out of annoyance, only exhaustion. "You may."

"Am I exactly like my father?"

It was another unanticipated question, only this one shook Severus to his foundation. He drew back against his pillows, and his eyes widened for a second before returning to normal. His mouth opened, but he wasn't even sure of what to say. He swallowed and blinked several times before he could muster the energy to speak.

"No, Potter, you're not _exactly_ like your father. You have certain attributes of his that I wouldn't necessarily prize myself on—a total disregard for the rules, his temperament, and you're a bit of a hothead—but you also possess qualities he didn't have. One of those is your general treatment of others. I believe that's something you got from Lily..."

"You mean I," Harry's green eyes lowered a fraction, "I'm not a prick like my father was?"

Severus seemed torn between nodding and just foregoing this uneasy territory altogether, but, eventually, he acknowledged Harry's remark, albeit with caution. "Indeed, yes."

"I see."

"Potter, I'm not the person to ask such things. I'm resentful of your father. Not without my reasons, as I've said before, but even _I_ can admit to being biased in my set opinions of him. I only knew him as a bully. That's the only perspective of him I have to offer you. You'd have better luck asking Lupin or someone else who knew your father far better than I did."

It was then that both Harry and Hermione came to the same realization, and at the same time: Severus wasn't aware, as of yet, of who had survived the war and who hadn't. Since Severus hadn't brought it up, Hermione wasn't willing to be a downer by bringing the morbid topic to light and was simply waiting for it to creep up in conversation. She quickly made eye contact with Harry and subtly shook her head, requesting that he not say anything.

Harry got the message and nodded to Severus accordingly. "Yes, you're right... But I think you're the right person to ask my next question."

"Which is?"

"Do I have anything of my mother in me apart from her eyes and my treatment towards my friends? I... I'd like to think I have _more_ characteristics of hers, but I didn't know her well enough. You did, sir. Please, tell me?"

Once again, Severus was struck by Harry's peculiar question. The feel of Hermione's warm hand running up and down his arm was soothing, but it didn't do enough to relax his heightened nerves now.

"Erm, yes," he responded with evident awkwardness, "I would imagine you _do_ have attributes of hers apart from her eyes. Hermione has told me before that you're kind and goodhearted, neither of which I'm in a position to judge, so I will merely take her word for it." Hermione smiled discretely, and Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. "Lily was gentle, gracious, and accepting of me when no one else was. She had the ability to see the good in others. I suppose she caved to peer pressure eventually, but, at one time, she _was _tolerant, and she treated me as a friend rather than some poor, helpless soul to be pitied. If you're anything like her in that regard, than that's something to be commended."

Harry's expression softened, both relieved and contented to receive some positive reinforcement, and from the very last person he expected. "I'm glad to hear that she was, as you said, at one time a good friend to you. I'm sorry she didn't forgive you for what you said, sir. What you said to her _does _anger me, but seeing the aftermath—how you later tried to apologize and still loved her well after she walked away—puts the incident in a new perspective for me."

"Yes, well, you may not wish to admit or hear it, Potter," Severus grunted, shifting about to get more comfortable, "but I believe there was also a small part of Lily that was smiling along with everyone else that day on the school grounds. My slip of the tongue was merely her opportunity to finally push me away for good. I think she sought the advantage but would have ended our friendship regardless."

Harry was seemingly surprised by that. "What? I don't think—"

"I was an embarrassment to her, Potter, and I'm well aware of the fact. Your mother was popular, well-liked by everyone, and I was, by all accounts, a misfit she couldn't be caught speaking to, let alone being friendly with. Lily was a good person, Potter, but she also never saw fit to forgive me, as I've already said. After years of friendship, she gave up on me over that one incident. I'm not downplaying what I said, by any means. It was wrong of me, but she also never gave me a second chance. I clung to the hope that she might eventually come around again, that maybe she just needed to get over her anger and then let me explain myself, but she never did. And I... I always wished she would have."

Severus fell silent and Hermione noted the abrupt pause was due to the various built up emotions creeping to the surface for him, long buried deep within. Severus wasn't looking at her or Harry or anything in particular. His dark eyes stared at the blankets in front of him, and then he shut his eyes entirely and leaned back against the pillows.

Hermione wanted to reach out to him but knew he wouldn't appreciate it; not with Harry present and watching. It took every ounce of her control not to wrap him up in a hug, to say something comforting that might help him feel better.

Then Harry broke the tension with a remark that left Hermione speechless. "For what it's worth, Professor, you deserved to be forgiven. It's like you said: Hermione would forgive me if I said something like that. I'm sorry my mother didn't give you a second chance..."

Severus's eyes flashed open. He hardly knew how to return Harry's comments. It was certainly not what he would have ever expected to hear.

"I just hope you won't think me so unforgiving," Harry said in a delicate tone of voice, "because I'm _not_ so unforgiving. I... I appreciate everything that you did for me—for my mother, I should say, but also for me—and, had I'd known, I wouldn't have wasted so much energy hating you."

Severus blinked hard. His mouth felt parched when he muttered, "Well, I didn't necessarily make it easy for you."

"No, you didn't," Harry paused to survey Severus thoughtfully, "but I wish you had."

"I didn't like you, Potter," Severus returned without any twinge of unhappiness, only truth. "Quite frankly, I still don't like you very much."

At this, Harry stifled a laugh, as did Hermione. "And I don't like you very much either, sir, although... Well, knowing what I know now, it _does_ make me like you a little more. Please just know that I really _am_ appreciative of what you did for me, Professor. _Truly_."

Severus grunted, clearly uncomfortable with the gratitude he was receiving. "You're welcome," he mumbled, diverting his eyes from Harry and focusing them on the stone wall across the room.

Hermione was relieved that Harry got the hint. The conversation had gone on long enough, and Severus was obviously reaching the point where he was unbearably troubled and wanted to be left alone.

"Well, I think I've bothered you enough for one visit. I'll let you get some rest. Thank you, sir, for taking the time to answer my questions."

Severus didn't argue or reply, only made an audible noise and slunk back against his pillows with a weighty sigh. He started to close his eyes and heard Harry's feet shuffle towards the door, when the young man's voice broke through his worn consciousness again, awakening him from his doze.

"I hope you get well soon, Professor. If there's anything I can do, either now or later, please let me know. It... It's the least I can do..."

Severus wearily opened his eyes again, locking them on Harry's across the room before he managed to clear his throat and reply, in a hoarse whisper, "Thank you, Harry."

Hermione's mouth nearly dropped to the floor and Harry reared back a little, stunned by those very simple words. They were abnormally heartfelt and genuine—an expression of gratitude and a real acknowledgement of the Boy Who Lived—that left Harry temporarily paralyzed. Severus had never addressed Harry by his first name before either, and it shook them both where they stood.

Severus's eyes closed again, too spent to talk or stay awake any longer. His breathing evened out and he quickly succumbed to sleep before Harry even left the room. Hermione followed her friend to the door, waiting for him to remark first on how the conversation had gone.

"_That_ was unexpected," Harry murmured, awestruck.

"Yes, it was." Hermione glanced over at Severus affectionately, now fast sleep. "I told you he doesn't hate you."

"Yeah..."

"I never would have ever anticipated things would go that well."

"Yeah, I'm kind of shocked myself."

"Thanks for coming." Hermione smiled and reached around to hug Harry, but when she started to pull away, Harry held on to her.

"'Mione?"

"Yes?"

Harry eyed her over with caution. "Do you _really_ love him? Snape?"

"Yes... I - I do."

"And he loves you?"

"Yes, he does."

"And he's good to you?"

Hermione's smile broadened. "Yes, Harry, he's good to me. Believe it or not, he's not such a bastard after all."

Harry ignored her soft laughter. "I mean it, 'Mione. I want to be sure."

"Very well. Yes, he's _very_ good to me. Exceptionally, in fact. He's a good person, Harry. He _really_ is. And when he gets well..."

Hermione's voice trailed off. She had been clinging to such hopes for so long now that she was starting to resent her own positivity. There were no guarantees, after all, that Severus would get well, and he was hardly in the right frame of mind as it was. Only time would tell, but she couldn't bring herself to believe that things might take a turn for the worse. Her mind and heart wouldn't allow it, so she swallowed her fears once again and kept on smiling.

"I hope you're right," Harry offered in return. "I hope he gets out of here soon. This isn't over, you know..."

Hermione's smile faded with the grim prospect of what lay ahead. "Yes, I know. I just want him well enough so that he can handle it. If not, then..."

"Don't think about that, 'Mione. One step at a time, all right?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, yes, of course."

"I'll drop by again soon." Harry paused to glance over at Severus, and a wry smile crept across his face. "I daresay he won't appreciate another visit from me, so all the more reason to show up unannounced."

Hermione rolled her eyes and gave her friend another hug, watching his silhouette disappear down the bustling hallway. She cast her eyes back towards a slumbering Severus a few feet away, sleeping soundly for the time being, as if the awkward, touchy conversation had never taken place.

_That went_ much _better than expected..._

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**A/N #2: PiccolaScintilla has made another fantastic photo manip of our favorite couple, the link of which you can find under my Profile page. It's a lovely image that could easily go with either the Prequel or the original story. _A huge thank you to her!_ Don't miss it.**_  
_


	45. Shifts and Changes

**A/N: Wow! I can't believe this story has reached 1,000+ reviews! That's well-worth celebrating. _Thank you to all of you who've helped this little story reach such a milestone!_**

******_Furthermore, thanks to CutieAnimeGirl19 for getting the 1,000th review! And special kudos to Mrs HH, who tried to get it first, LOL._ _;)_**

**I had a challenge to present to you all with this chapter, but we reached that bench mark before this chapter could get up. My plan was to ask whoever the 1,000th reviewer was to send me a pompt for an SSHG one-shot. I'm waiting on hearing back from that reviewer if she's interested, but since Mrs HH was also super close to getting it, I have a prompt from her all ready to go. I'll try to have it up in the coming weeks.**

**Perhaps if this story hits another milestone, I'll try for this prompt exercise again, if anyone's interested. On we go...  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 45: Shifts and Changes**

**Part I  
**

"_Of course_ they want me to pay, Hermione. You didn't really expect me to weasel my way out of this, did you?"

Hermione glared at Severus over her copy of the latest _Daily Prophet_. "It's nice to see you in such high spirits about all this."

Severus rolled his eyes dramatically and shifted against his pillows. Hermione enjoyed seeing more color in his cheeks for a change. He had a healthier complexion now than he had in weeks; an encouraging sign. His lips weren't as blue either and, today, he was finally off any sort of oxygen aid and breathing freely.

It had been well over a month since Severus had been admitted to St. Mungo's and progress towards recovery had been slow, but Hermione was all too happy to see Severus making any strides to focus much on the negative. A combination of tonics were starting to show signs of positive effects, his strange shifts in temperament were growing less severe, and Harry had been by a few more times to relay news to them about what was happening outside of the four walls they had occupied for weeks.

Harry informed them of several Death Eaters who had already been caught and were awaiting trial, including Lucius Malfoy. Kingsley had assembled virtually an entirely new staff in the Law Enforcement Department, which had been overrun during Lord Voldemort's reign. And there was a lively debate between the Board of Directors, Hogwarts' staff, and the Order to construct some type of memorial to commemorate all those who served in the wars, as well as those whose lives were lost.

Severus didn't say much about that. Hermione suspected he didn't think he would be included and wasn't exactly pleased when Harry told them he was making an effort to see that the wizard _would _make the cut. In fact, Severus wasn't all too pleased with Harry's visits in general but tolerated his former pupil's presence, nonetheless. Hermione was far too busy enjoying the fact that the two were actually on speaking terms and attempting to be cordial with one another to care about any of the lingering uneasiness.

"Look, they need someone to blame," Severus grumbled, almost sounding bored with the topic they were on. "Many Death Eaters are already locked away in Azkaban awaiting trial, yet _I'm_ still here, roaming freely, as far as the public's concerned."

"To hell with the public!" Hermione growled with feeling. "You've been fighting for your life in here. It's not like you're lounging about, sipping Firewhisky, and playing Wizard's Chess. These people are daft idiots!"

"Everyone wants a scapegoat," Severus affirmed patiently, taking a bite of his mostly unconsumed breakfast. "The Dark Lord's gone, as is Dumbledore, and I killed the man, remember?"

"Stop it, Severus."

"What did I say?"

"I won't listen to any of your unwarranted sarcasm before noon. It's my new rule."

Severus sighed and closed his eyes. "In that case, I shall make a few of my own."

"Oh? Quit talking and eat."

"I'm not hungry," he groused, much like a stubborn child, to which Hermione couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, well, tough. You _need_ to eat."

"No, I don't."

"It's the only way to keep up your strength, Severus."

"I'm fine, Hermione," he hissed, getting flustered. "I'm just not hungry."

"Well, you can either feed yourself now, or we can have one of the Mediwitches stick you with an IV later. Which would you prefer?"

Severus made a low, disgruntled noise and took his fork in hand, never diverting his beady eyes from Hermione as he took another small bite of his fried eggs. Hermione grinned and returned to reading the front page of the _Prophet_, unperturbed by Severus, who continued to surveying her unreservedly as he ate.

"Aren't you sick of this?" he whispered after a while, causing Hermione's eyes to flutter towards him.

"Pardon?"

Severus had put down his fork and pushed his tray of food away, most of which he hadn't eaten, and the tray hovered in the air nearby. "Haven't you had enough already?"

It took Hermione a moment to gather what Severus was getting at, but the guilt in his eyes was unmistakable. Hermione put down her paper and walked over to the bed. She bent down and placed a tender kiss on his forehead, hearing him sigh heavily in response, perhaps with shame; she wasn't sure, but she didn't like it one bit.

"Stop it, you," she scolded gently, taking a seat on the bed facing him with her thigh touching his. She leaned over him and brought the wizard into an embrace. "I love you. That's why I'm here."

"Hermione—"

"Don't."

The harsh lines on Severus's face sunk when she moved back to look at him. "But you didn't sign up for any of this..."

Without replying, Hermione met his mouth for a kiss, illustrating her resolve as best she could. She realized instantly how deprived she had been, and for far too long; she had missed kissing him, pined for the feel of his soft lips pressing against hers, ached for that familiar, all-consuming taste of him in her mouth. And he did as well.

Severus's eyes were weary once she withdrew, and the shame of his situation was etched all over his worn features. She tried to ignore the gravitational sadness, but it was difficult.

"What exactly did I sign up for?" she prodded in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Something unattainable, perhaps? I believe you once told me you couldn't make any promises, Severus, but that you were willing to try."

"Yes, but..."

"So, here I am, _willing to try_, and I'll keep trying, because I love you."

"But aren't you having second thoughts?" Severus's arms reached around to glide over her back and press her closer. "I may not ever be cured, Hermione. I... I may never get well—"

"Don't say that!" she was unable to prevent herself from snapping.

"Hermione, be reasonable."

"I _am_ being reasonable."

"No, you're not. I may not make a full recovery. Is this who you _really_ want to spend the rest of your life with? An old man like me who needs constant supervision? Constant taking care of? Who can't do a bloody thing for himself?"

Hermione couldn't help shaking her head, not at the prospect of the future he was picturing for her, but at how little he regarded himself, and her choice, for that matter. "Oh, for goodness' sake, Severus, you're_ not_ an old man, and you're _not_ helpless either." She brushed her fingers through his hair and felt his head lean into her touch, his long eyelashes fluttering as she weaved her hand slowly through his tresses. "I'm here because I _want_ to be here, love. No matter what the outcome may be, _I'll still be here_. I love you, and your health isn't going to change that. I'd be pretty heartless if I let that be the case."

Hermione inclined for another kiss and then moved her mouth over the man's face, kissing him lovingly—the deep bridge of his hooked nose, his long eyelashes, the ridges around his mouth—enjoying his sighs of gratitude. When she was through, Hermione brought her forehead to his and stared deep into his eyes, which were only half open and on the verge of nodding off.

"I'm not going anywhere, Severus. You can't get rid of me. You should know that by now."

"I'm not trying to," he muttered quietly. "I just..."

"What?"

"This is no kind of life... Not for someone like you."

"Someone like me? What on earth do you mean?"

"You have so much potential, Hermione," he murmured, his words starting to slur. "Please don't waste your talents..."

Hermione shook her head again. "You're infuriating, you know that?"

"I mean it."

"Yes, well, that doesn't change the fact that you're _still_ infuriating."

"Please, Hermione," he insisted, sounding desperate; his eyes closed as he attempted to reach her. "Please listen to me... For once..."

"No, sorry, but I won't. Not now, anyway. No more of this." Hermione nudged his nose to keep him awake. "And no going to sleep yet, Mister. You have to finish this meal or else Augustus will have a fit, and so will I."

"Insufferable," he growled at her, reopening his eyes and stifling a yawn.

"And you're still a stubborn, bullheaded arse. What else is new?"

Severus lazily arched an eyebrow. "You're more bossy than usual today."

"Being around you so much, you bring it out of me, so the fault is yours."

Hermione's heart fluttered when he actually gave her a gentle, halfhearted smirk. She hadn't seen him smile much, and even if it was brief, it still warmed her to see its return. She inched the tray back in front of him and brought a slice of toast to his mouth.

"I can feed myself, you know," he reminded her with some minor irritation.

Hermione, however, snickered back. "I know you can, but I'm your Mediwitch for the time being, so you can either take the food I give you, or have me force feed it to you by shoving it down your throat. Take your pick."

"Witch."

"Git. Now eat."

Severus finally caved and allowed Hermione to feed him without any further complaints. He didn't eat everything, but Hermione was too happy to care, as he consumed more than he had in weeks, another positive sign that his prognosis might just be improving for the better.

"I'm proud of you," she whispered against his mouth, pecking him several times when he was through. "You're doing a lot better, Severus."

"Mmm. That remains to be seen."

"Oh, come off it. Don't be a downer."

"I still think you should rethink matters, Hermione."

Severus's eyelids closed and he inhaled deeply, letting her vanilla scent infiltrate his lungs. Did she know how much he enjoyed her smell; what it did to him? Her aroma was soothing and reminded him that she was there.

_Always there..._

"And I've already told you my decision," she continued, unawares.

"I wish I could...persuade you..." Severus yawned behind his hand and turned away from her.

"Well, you won't, so give it up already, would you? You're starting to annoy me."

"You've annoyed me from the very start," he sputtered, causing her to giggle.

"I know, and, believe me, it's _a lot_ of fun unnerving you. It's far too easy."

"Insufferable..."

"Mmm, yes, you said that already." Hermione kissed him again, then his forehead, and proceeded to stroke his cheek as he slowly drifted away from her.

"Hermione..."

"It's all right, love. Rest. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Thank you..."

"No thanking me, remember?"

"Oh... Right..."

"Go to sleep."

Before falling asleep at last, Severus mumbled a very soft "I love you," that made Hermione freeze. It still wasn't a phrase he said too frequently, and hearing it now squeezed and constricted her chest. It was immensely gratifying, and often unexpected whenever it came. She pecked his cheek and nuzzled against his face, not ready to pull away.

"I love you more."

Hermione wasn't sure how long she stayed in that position, hugging Severus as he quietly dozed in her arms, but eventually she moved away to watch him sleep. Then someone else addressed her, and it was a voice she hadn't heard in a very long time. It nearly catapulted her off of Severus's bed, and she turned to the open doorway, where the outline of a redheaded young man came into view.

"Ron!" Hermione breathed, hardly able to believe her eyes. She instantly lowered her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione gawked for a long while at the sight before her. In her wildest dreams, she never would have expected Ron to make an appearance, and had chalked it up to him being too wounded over learning the truth about her feelings for someone else to face her. And yet, here he was, standing by the door—albeit very awkwardly—and forcing a smile across his freckled face that was reminiscent of the boy she once adored.

Gradually, Hermione found her footing and stood up, progressing quietly across the room to greet him with a strained sort of hug; not the warm embrace they had once shared as close friends.

"Erm, sorry, is this a bad time?" he whispered, his blue eyes darting nervously from Hermione to the sleeping professor and back again.

"Oh! Um, well, he just fell asleep..."

Hermione couldn't even begin to unravel how uncomfortable this was. Discussing Severus with Harry was a walk in the park compared to trying to breach this same topic of conversation with Ron. She painfully spoke through her uneasiness whilst Ron's timid eyes darted all about the room, except for Severus's bed.

"It really isn't a good time, Ron. I don't want him to wake up. He needs to rest."

"Could we maybe go somewhere else then and talk?" Seeing the skepticism marring Hermione's face, he added, "I won't keep you long, I promise. I just... Well, I haven't seen you in a while, and I'd really like to catch up. We haven't spoken since..."

Hermione let out a prolonged sigh. "Yes, I - I know. It's been too long."

"So, what do you say?"

"Um..."

"He'll be all right for a couple minutes by himself, won't he?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "He's just sleeping, 'Mione. And there's an Auror outside the door here."

"I really don't want to leave him alone, Ron. In light of all the recent threats..." She took in a deep breath to keep herself calm; Ron simply didn't understand, that was all, and likely wouldn't if she tried to explain further. "I don't want to leave the hospital, if that's what you're thinking. I can't, Ron."

"Erm, all right," he nodded towards a few abandoned chairs in the hallway not far from Severus's room. "How 'bout there then?"

Hermione wanted to protest again but didn't have the heart to. She knew this conversation had been coming, and that she owed it to Ron just as she did to Harry, but it had crept up on her without warning, and now she felt entirely ill-prepared for any sort of a confrontation. Harry's warning about how peeved Ron was rang in Hermione's ears as she took a seat, followed closely by Ron, who shifted and grunted, trying to make himself more comfortable; or less nervous, more like.

"How are you?" she asked in an attempt to break the ice.

"I'm all right," he grumbled unconvincingly. "It... It's been hard."

Hermione noted how terribly sad the chap looked. She yearned to reach out to him with another hug but questioned whether or not that would be appropriate, or even what he wanted. Instead, she gently patted Ron's shoulder and offered him a sympathetic ear.

"I'm so sorry about Fred. It's still really hard to believe he's gone..."

The frown on Ron's face deepened. "Yeah, I - I know."

"How's everyone holding up?"

"Not well. Dad doesn't say much, Mum cries at every whim, Percy keeps having nightmares about Fred's last moments, and George... Well, he's taking it the hardest. He doesn't speak to anyone. He spends most of the day in his room. Mum can barely get him to come downstairs for meals. We're all just miserable right now. It's been trying on everyone..."

Hermione felt her eyes brewing with tears, heartbroken over the Weasley family's loss. "Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry..."

Ron kept his eyes glued on the floor and scuffed his shoes. "I just keep thinking I'm going to wake up and he'll be here, you know? That him and George will come barreling down the stairs to show me their latest inventions, or Apparate and Disapparate on Mum, just to scare the pants off of her, or come up behind me and crack a joke at my expense. The house is really quiet without Fred. Without the pair of them, the laughter, it... It's gone."

Hermione was struck down by Ron's forlorn words, unsure of what comfort she could provide her friend; and to her, he _was_ still her friend. She could only hope he wasn't too mad at her now to consider her the same.

Hermione glided her hand down from Ron's shoulder to take his hand, feeling him squeeze back appreciatively. She hadn't realized that he was also on the verge of tears, too, and that was awfully trying to see.

"I'm sorry I haven't been there for you..."

Ron's mouth twitched. "Don't be. You have, erm, your own priorities right now."

"Yes, well..." Hermione hesitated between bringing the touchy subject up and just waiting for Ron to address it first. Evidently, he was finding it difficult, so she hastily resolved to be as straightforward as possible. "This _is_ where I need to be, Ron. I - I hope you can understand that. Maybe eventually, if not now. Please know it's not that I don't care about what you're going through, _because I do_. I wish I could be in two places at once..."

"Too bad you can't use that Time-Turner," he returned with a faint grin. "That'd make it a lot more convenient."

Hermione willingly laughed, grateful for the break in the tension. She took in a calculated breath, ready to get out what needed to be said that she had been avoiding telling him for far too long.

"Ron, you're my friend, and I want to be honest with you. I haven't been, and I'm sorry for that. I didn't know how to tell either of you, and I knew you and Harry would be shocked and furious with me, so I shied away from telling the truth. I don't want to do that anymore."

Inhaling another sharp breath, Hermione reached for the words that were on the tip of her tongue. "I'm in love with him, Ron. I've loved him for a really long time. For a while, I was confused and didn't know for sure, but it's never been more clear to me than now. We've been together—secretly—for over a year, and I'm sick of hiding our relationship. I'm tired of not being open and honest about my feelings, which is why I'm telling you this now."

Ron didn't speak for some time—too long to Hermione—which made her increasingly apprehensive about what his reaction might be once it finally came. She would have loved to use Legilimency to decipher what he was thinking. Whatever it was, however, she suspected it wasn't positive.

"Snape..." He sounded both awestruck and abhorred just saying the man's name. "You... You're in _love_ with him? With _Snape?_"

Hermione willed herself to remain calm. It was just the sort of doubtfulness and ill-favorable response she anticipated, and she braced herself for the worst.

"Yes... I love him, Ron, and he loves me."

"But - But _how?_"

Hermione bit her lip. "During all those months in detention, I... I got to know him. He opened up to me; we talked a lot and became well acquainted with each other. Things sort of progressed from there. It was just a natural feeling that grew between us..."

"I... I still don't understand," he replied, disgruntled, his brow furrowing at the idea.

"It was a gradual process, Ron. I never expected it to turn into what it's become, and neither did he. It took Severus a long time to open up to me—"

"_Severus?_" Ron repeated, his blue eyes gazing at her in amazement.

Hermione willed herself to remain unfazed. "Yes... I've called him that for a while. As I was saying, I've always suspected that he wasn't all bad. You and Harry know this; I _know_ you can recall moments when we disagreed about Severus's intentions. But the longer my detention sessions went on, the less suspicious I became about him, because I got to know him, and he's terribly misunderstood, Ron. He... He's a good person at heart and that's who I fell in love with."

Ron scrunched up his nose, still having trouble accepting the whole truth. "So, when you were serving detentions with him, you were..."

"No, Ron, not like that. It wasn't until the second half of term that we both acknowledged that we had feelings for each other, but nothing like that ever happened while we were at school."

Ron's eyes flickered unnaturally. "Have you... And Snape..."

Hermione's stomach started doing flips. That question was _not_ one she was prepared to answer, and her cheeks turned scarlet. She instantly removed her hand from his.

"Ron... That's really none of your business."

"Isn't it?" he squabbled, narrowing his now fierce eyes at her.

"No, it's not."

"I don't have the right to ask, particularly when you were dating_ me _during our sixth year?"

Hermione recoiled in her chair. "No, you don't, because I just told you nothing happened while we were at school." Her cheeks were now on fire, but she pushed through the awkwardness and kept going. "I... I didn't realize how I felt about him at first when you and I got together; I was still very confused then. But that was partly why I broke it off between us—"

"So, all that talk about being there for Harry, that was a lie?"

Hermione could see his face starting to change and reared further back. "No, it wasn't. It was an exaggeration, yes, but I wasn't sure what would happen with Severus. I didn't know—"

"You led me on," he whispered with low, heated contempt that set her on edge.

"Ron, I honestly never meant to hurt you. That's why I broke up with you. I was conflicted. Would you have rather us carried on and gotten serious before I broke it off? In the back of my mind, I think I already knew how I felt; I just didn't acknowledge it at the time. It was never my intention to hurt you—"

"Yeah, well, so much for that!"

Hermione's eyes fell. "I'm sorry for hurting you, Ron. _I truly am_."

"So, when you were giving me all that flack about dating Lavender for a while... _That_ was a lie, too?"

"I... I'm sorry for giving you a hard time; I shouldn't have. That was all wrong of me. But that wasn't a lie, Ron. I _did_ have feelings for you then."

"Before you started detentions with the greasy git—"

"Ron—"

"And lied to all of us!"

"Ron, what would you have liked me to say? 'Oh, hey, I have feelings for Professor Snape, the man you and Harry despise more than anyone'?"

Ron snorted. "Yeah, no."

"Then tell me what you'd have liked me to say? Tell me what would have made learning my secret easier for you to stomach?"

Ron met her eyes again, now filled with hurt and rejection. It made Hermione's insides churn with guilt.

"I wish you'd never led me on to believe that I might stand a chance with you. When we were looking for Horcruxes, why the hell would you lead me on like that? Especially if you had feelings for _him?_"

"Ron, I never made any promises to you—"

"You asked me to be patient with you! To give you time!"

"Severus had disappeared by then, Ron! I hadn't seen him in nearly six months by that point! I thought it was over between us; I _never_ expected to see him again after... After what happened."

"Should I pity you?" Ron spat, his hands balling into fists on top of his thighs.

"I was showing my reservations about you even then, Ron. Don't deny it. How many times did I actually let you touch me or kiss me without shying away? Two? Maybe three times in all those months? No offense, but shouldn't that have been an indication to you that maybe I wasn't that interested?"

"Are you actually blaming _me?_"

Hermione sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, no, I'm not. I just... I thought you knew? I thought you were aware that I never made any promises that we would start something up again? Because I didn't, Ron. I _never_ promised you we'd get back together."

Ron shot forward in his chair, and his beet red face was inches from hers. Hermione startled and drew back, alarmed.

"_How dare you!_"

"Ron, please—"

"How can you love him? _How?_ After everything he did! Knowing the kind of man that he is! It's appalling, 'Mione! It's absolutely disgusting! _What the hell are you thinking?_"

Hermione's eyes darted about the bustling hallway. Though the place was crowded and busy, several Healers were now staring or peering over with curiosity, including the Auror standing outside Severus's door, undoubtedly overhearing parts of their heated argument.

Hermione quickly shifted her eyes and spoke in a hushed voice, "He's not what you think he is, Ron! I would have thought—after seeing his memories for yourself—that you'd have accepted the truth."

"He killed Dumbledore, 'Mione! None of that changes the fact that _he killed him!_"

"He did so because Dumbledore asked him to, Ron!"

"And you're just going to accept that?" Ron's eyes expanded, as if she had sprouted several heads. "How can you love someone like _that_, 'Mione? What's happened to you?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed and her mouth curled into a snarl. She could feel the temperature rising in the center of her chest, and she gripped the sides of her chair to keep from smacking Ron across the face.

"You don't know him, Ron! You haven't a clue! How dare you make such assumptions about him and my choice to be with him! Especially without knowing all the facts! Don't talk about him like he's tainted or bad, because he isn't! _I_ know who he really is! _You don't!_"

"I don't need to! His actions over this past year speak louder than words, 'Mione! You shouldn't be with him! It's sickening! He's ten times older than you, for Merlin's sake! What on earth do you even see in Snape, 'Mione? _Seriously?_"

Hermione felt like she had been struck down by a curse. It took every ounce of her composure not to run away from Ron, and not before sending a hex or two his way first. The emotional injury was horrid and difficult to bear.

"How dare you, Ron! Don't _ever _tell me whom I should or shouldn't fall in love with, as if I need_ your_ permission! You have no right!"

"Oh, yes, I do!" he shot back at her, moving even closer. "I'm your friend, aren't I?"

"Yes, and friends are supposed to be supportive!"

"Don't even go there! You have no right to expect _me_ to accept _this!_ It's wrong, 'Mione! _It's just wrong!_"

"How can you be so prejudiced, Ron?" Hermione's voice was unsteady, and her hands were shaking, though she wasn't aware of it. "You know the truth! You _know_ what he did for Harry, for all of us—"

"Don't start on me about what he did for _us!_ Have you forgotten what a bastard he was to us at school? How he treated _you? _Or are you so far gone now that all you see when you look at him—at that pitiful louse—is hearts and roses? _It's despicable!_"

"Don't you dare call him despicable, nor pitiful, Ron, because he's neither! And I haven't forgotten his past behavior! But I'll tell you something: Severus has apologized to me for the things he said and did, and I've accepted it! I've accepted _him!_"

"Wow... You are seriously delusional!"

"Speak for yourself!"

"_I am!_ I'm only telling you what everyone else is thinking behind your back but doesn't have the balls to tell you! You're living in a fantasy world if you actually think your relationship with _him_ will ever be accepted by me; or by anyone else, for that matter!"

A few tears leaked out of Hermione's eyes, and her disposition and face sunk heavily along with her heart. "You're in denial, Ron," she whispered, injured more than she could possibly express. "You're just feeling sore that it didn't work out between us, and now you want to hurt me. I won't let you make me feel guilty for loving him. I won't let you..."

"I'm _not_ in denial!" he snarled, rounding on her in a flash. "_You are!_ Do you actually think he's going to walk away from all of this scot-free, 'Mione? After all the shit he's pulled? He's going to pay for it! They'll lock him away where he belongs! Wait and see!"

Hermione shot to her feet and glared Ron down with all her excruciating pain and fury. She still wasn't aware of the trembles or the tears trickling down her flushed cheeks. She tried not to sob when she attempted to reply to Ron's vindictive remarks.

"_How dare you!_ Just go!"

Ron jumped to his feet as well, giving her a deathly glare that was reminiscent of the time he took off and left her and Harry in the woods. Hermione hated to see that look again, almost as much as she despised the hurt he was putting her through now.

"Go ahead!" he baited, leaning into her and getting far too close for comfort. "Go ahead and believe that Snape's the good guy! You're the only one in this whole world who thinks so! Even Harry still holds rightful resentment for how the ugly bastard treated him! You want to continue to love and give sympathy to that filthy, conniving, despicable old son of a bitch, then be my guest! But you're on your own! You _won't _get any support from me or from anyone else for standing by that traitor! Not even full support from Harry! _You're on your own!_"

"FINE!" she shouted, losing all sense of her surroundings. "I don't care if you don't understand! I don't care if you want to remain in denial and not accept the truth about who Severus really is! I don't care if I don't have your support either! Some friend _you_ are!"

Ron snorted abrasively. "As are you!"

"Oh, get over it, Ron! I've tried to be patient with you! I've tried to be a good friend as much as I could! All I was to you was an opportunity to ace homework assignments and get ahead academically! I _never_ mattered to you anyhow! Why would you expect me to continue having feelings for someone who doesn't even respect me? You always mocked my intelligence! You always made fun of me! Why on earth should I love a bastard like _you?_"

Ron cheeks glowed and he blinked several times, trying to digest everything she had unleashed upon him. "I... I never used you," he whispered, seeing as people were now blatantly staring at the pair of them. "You weren't a doormat to me, 'Mione. Honest. And if I... If I mocked your intelligence, I was only teasing. I didn't mean it."

Hermione angled her jaw, stating acidicly, "Too little, too late."

Ron slunk back, freshly shamed and embarrassed. Finally taking notice of some of the gawking faces and hushed, excited whispers reverberating around them, Hermione cleared her throat and tried to keep her chin from wavering as she stared hard into Ron's eyes and spoke in a normal tone of voice.

"If you can't be supportive of me, if my decision offends you that much, then you have no business being here, Ron. Just go, and leave us alone."

Ron opened his mouth to speak but words escaped him. A wave of panic struck as Hermione swiftly turned on him to leave.

"'Mione!" he called after her.

Hermione paused at the doorway to Severus's room, tears streaming down her face. The look she bore was both severe and pained, and her mouth was quivering from the sobs that wanted to escape.

"I won't take this from you," she whispered, her voice filled with agony. "I won't listen to you berate me for falling in love with someone else. I won't stand by and let you degrade him to my face. You know the truth. You know now who Severus Snape is. Do with it what you like, but leave us alone."

With that, Hermione didn't wait for a reply but returned to Severus's room, trying to stifle her cries as best she could as she closed the door—shutting Ron out, possibly for good. She didn't want to wake Severus, but she was emotionally scarred and overwrought with feeling.

Heaving and crying heavily, Hermione sunk against the stone wall opposite Severus's bed, collapsing to the floor in a heap of her own sorrow and tears. She brought her knees to her chest and clung to herself, burying her face from view as she sobbed over the loss of one of her closest friends.

* * *

"Hermione? _Hermione!_ Wake up."

Hermione felt someone tugging on her shoulder, but she was too spent to open her eyes, and her head was throbbing, rolling back and forth in protest. "No... Stop..." she half whined, half mumbled.

"Hermione, please wake up. What's wrong?"

Finally, she was jerked hard enough that her eyes shot open. "Wha - What?"

"Are you all right?" came a deep purr she recognized. "What the hell are you doing lying on the floor?"

As Hermione's eyes soaked in her familiar surroundings, she shot up from her perch against the wall at the unexpected sight of Severus, out of bed, crouched down beside her, and looking white as a sheet. He seemed to have laboriously struggled to get to her, as he was panting hard with pearls of sweat dripping from his forehead.

"What on earth— _Severus!_"

Severus shifted his weight to one side with some difficulty, wincing as he did so. Hermione hastily scooted onto her knees and wrapped her arms around him to keep him from tumbling backward.

"What are you doing out of bed?" she gasped, rattled to find him this way.

"I saw you lying here and was worried." He paused to draw breath. "I was trying to get your attention, but you were unresponsive. I tried calling for a Mediwitch, but no one heard me..."

_More like you were ignored_, Hermione reflected with an inner heartache that made her want to scream. She brought Severus as close as possible.

"I just fell asleep, that's all. I'm sorry I didn't hear you. Did you need something?"

"No. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

_Sweet man. Utterly ridiculous but adorable._

Hermione eased him against her carefully. She didn't want to think on how long it must have taken him to get to her and focused instead on getting him off the floor.

"You shouldn't have done this, Severus. C'mon, let's get you back in bed."

"How did you end up here?" he asked as she took out her wand.

"I..."

"Your eyes are red, Hermione," he insisted, skepticism outlining his harsh expression. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, Severus. Don't worry about me. We need to get you back in bed."

Severus continued to prod her for answers, aggravated when Hermione levitated him in order to get him to his feet; but once back in bed, he quieted down, though he continued to push her for answers.

"Why won't you tell me what's going on?" he questioned her, for probably the seventh or eighth time.

Hermione plopped down beside him and shook her head. "You're extra stubborn and annoying today, you know that? Be quiet."

"Hermione, please—"

"All right, all right. If you _must_ know, Ron stopped by." She mumbled her response and brought the blankets up to Severus's exposed neck, hoping he hadn't heard her as she tucked him in.

"_What?_" His eyes narrowed. "When? What did he do?"

"Nothing, Severus. He just said some things I wish he hadn't."

Severus's face softened a little. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You know why." She scolded him playfully with her eyes, but Severus grumbled and ignored it.

"You have my wand, remember? It's not like I could have done anything."

"Yes, well, you could still pull a thing or two without it. Don't think I don't know that."

"Maybe." He reached up and surprised her by stroking her cheek as she fiddled with situating his pillows. She stopped what she was doing and gazed down at him. "Are you all right?" he pressed, his touch exceedingly gentle.

It was just the sort of comfort she needed, and Hermione leaned into his touch, taking his hand in her own and kissing the inside of his palm. "No," she confessed sadly, "but I will be. Thank you."

He studied her for a long moment in silence. Then he traced her bottom lip with his thumb, brushing it thoughtfully.

"I suppose this is the price you pay for being with me..."

"Oh, rubbish. Don't start that, Severus. You're worth it to me. I wouldn't be here if I felt any differently."

"I don't understand you."

"You don't have to. Just accept me."

"I do..."

"Good." She bent forward and kissed his forehead. "Now go back to sleep."

"I'm tired of sleeping," he grunted and attempted to sit up, but Hermione pushed him back down with ease.

"Oh, no you don't. I can't believe you did that. That wasn't at all smart, Severus."

"You were unresponsive!" he snarled in frustration, which Hermione secretly found wonderfully endearing. "What was I supposed to do?"

Hermione smiled and brought her lips to his, kissing him tenderly for a time before addressing him again. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I guess I was more put out than I thought."

Hermione was surprised when she felt Severus ease her carefully over top of him and kiss her again, deepening it with his one hand pressing the back of her head, the other weaving around her back and easing her onto his warm, relaxed body. Hermione reacted readily, a deep ache from somewhere inside making itself known for the first time in eons.

_Merlin, I've missed this_, her mind kept repeating, egging her on for what she craved, what she desperately needed, until she came to her abrupt senses. _Shit._

"All right, you." She reluctantly pulled back for air, as did he. His face was flushed, his breathing excited. "Not here," she tittered, to which he growled in protest.

"Why not? No one's here?"

He provoked her with a dark smile that nearly made her cave in to the suggestion. "Very tempting, Mister, but no. We're in hospital."

Severus gave her a dark look. "So?"

Hermione stifled a laugh. "Severus! One of the Healers or Augustus might—"

"They won't be back for another twenty-five minutes," he insisted, inclining his neck to kiss her again.

The more his lips touched her skin, the warmer she felt, and the more her needs grew. Hermione soon felt overwhelmed, especially once Severus's lips steadily made their way from her neck back up to her own, and of his hands, which grazed up and down her back, pressing her into his growing erection beneath the covers.

"Oh... Oh, no," she panted excitedly against his mouth before drawing back. "You're a scoundrel! Cut it out."

But Severus wasn't about to comply that easily. Grabbing her forcefully by the arms, he brought her closer and locked lips again, this time in earnest. Hermione didn't necessarily want to pull away and found the act of trying to far too difficult now. Her body had been aching for this for so long that she soon couldn't think straight.

**_Oh, yes, there's more! :)_**

**To read Part II of Chapter 45, please visit my LiveJournal account (link is also available under my Profile page): _crmediagaldotlivejournalcom_  
**

**Please note: Again, if you wish to leave a review on this chapter - which, of course, _I'd love and appreciate!_ - please do so in the Review Box below and not on my LiveJournal account. Thanks so much!_  
_**


	46. Hope and Hopelessness

**A/N: Well, it's about time they did _something_ to ease the tension, because difficult times still lie ahead. Here we go...  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 46: Hope and Hopelessness**

"This is outrageous!"

"Hermione—"

"NO! We have to think of something. _We have to_."

"Hermione, calm down. I told you this was probably coming. I've certainly done enough to warrant what they're calling for, you know."

"Don't start, Severus."

Severus gave a weighty sigh and turned away from her in bed. Hermione wanted to be angry and continue to scold him but was too shaken over the news that had just made that morning's _Daily Prophet_. An official notice from the Ministry had also arrived earlier, and Hermione was finding herself frazzled and out of sorts. She hated how calm Severus was by comparison, and that only unhinged her more.

"They _can't_ send you to Azkaban, Severus. They just can't!"

"It may not come to that," he grumbled, though his sober reflection didn't match his words at all.

Hermione looked over the Ministry's owl a fifth time. "These charges... Dumbledore... Either you or Harry is going to have to show the Wizengamot that memory, Severus. They need to know how it really went down."

"It won't sway them, Hermione, and there's very little Kingsley can do either, so don't suggest it."

"But—"

"I'm going to have answer to what I've done, Hermione, one way or the other."

He kept his dejected gaze on the opposite wall, refusing to look at her. Hermione felt a wounded pang in the center of her chest and calmed herself down enough to try and think rationally.

"We'll think of something, Severus," she tried to reassure him, this time more composed and quiet, realizing her racing thoughts weren't doing him any good either, "I promise. We'll settle this. Harry can—"

"What Potter's saying hasn't been enough to persuade them yet, Hermione. I doubt he'll prove very influential in these matters."

"He's _trying_, Severus."

Severus scrunched his pillows and tried to lay down flat on the bed, turning onto his side, facing her. "Yes, well, I wish he'd stop talking to the press. He's not doing me any favors."

"Severus, he's only trying to help."

"I don't need his help!" he snapped, then seemed to think better of it. He drew the covers up to his scarred neck and closed his eyes. "What Potter's said obviously isn't making any difference. I wish he'd stop." He paused and peered over at the open doorway on the opposite end of the room. "And I wish those Aurors would bugger off as well."

"Severus..."

"What? It's aggravating. You really think any one of them would actually try to prevent someone from having a go at me?"

Hermione, seated at the edge of his bed, threw down the Ministry letter and crossed her arms. "They know what you did, Severus. Harry informed them—"

"_So?_"

"People know the good that you've done, Severus. Not everyone's hell bent against you. And once the truth comes out, the general public and the Wizengamot will be eating their words. They'll need to accept the fact that you aren't the enemy and move on."

"Highly unlikely."

"Won't you even try to be positive? Please?"

"Over this news?" he sniped, shifting about in bed. "No."

"Look, I'm just as upset as you are. We need to think of something."

"Hermione, have you even considered what the press will do to _you_ once they get wind of you being here?"

Hermione was surprised by that, and it showed on her face. "Come again?"

"Your name and reputation will be ruined. Have you even considered the consequences? You haven't, have you?"

"That isn't fair, Severus. I've told you before that I _want_ to be here."

"Your association with me will be your undoing," he stated in a pained sort of whisper that struck Hermione to the core. She blinked several times before extending her hand to touch his leg, hidden beneath the pile of blankets.

"'Association'? Severus, stop it. You know I don't think like that—"

"It's true."

Hermione lingered for a moment before moving to the opposite side of the bed and laying down behind him. She drew an arm across his chest and snuggled into the nape of his neck, burying her face behind all his limp, black hair.

"I don't care, Severus," she whispered in his ear.

"You will when this all comes to a head."

"No, I won't."

"You really want to have yourself dragged through the press? After everything you've already been through—"

"I'm used to it, Severus. Being friends with Harry made me immune to annoying reporters and their shenanigans long ago. _I don't care_."

She paused, thinking he might retort, but instead he reclined against her and shut his eyes. Hermione kissed his cheek and pressed him closer.

"No more arguing about this, understood?"

Severus growled his disapproval, his response low and feeble. "No."

"Insubordinate arse." He laughed, albeit faintly, but it was a welcome change to their heavy-handed arguement. She inhaled a whiff of his scent, taking some comfort in what it brought. "We'll think of something, love. Just hang tight, and try not to worry. You need to focus on getting well."

"I want to get out of here," he muttered, though it came out more like a groan. "How much longer?"

"Augustus said maybe a week? You've come a long way, Severus."

"I don't feel like it..."

"You're getting there, Severus. He said it would take a while for you to feel more like yourself again. It's going to get easier—"

"There are still no guarantees, Hermione... You know that..."

Hermione fell silent on that grave point. It was true, after all. The tonics Severus was receiving were working for the time being, but Augustus couldn't predict just how long the effects would last. Severus wasn't cured, and a cure didn't look to be on the horizon any time soon. Only days before, Augustus had informed them that Severus may have to contend without one, and try to buy time with the tonics until one was found. It was another strip of bad news Hermione could hardly bear.

Thinking over that conversation again only made her feel worse. She nuzzled Severus's neck and lightly pecked his skin.

"Any good news is still good, isn't it? We're going to be getting out of here soon, Severus. Look at the bright side."

Severus's body suddenly shivered in her arms. She rubbed his arm a few times and bundled the blankets more securely around him.

"You cold?" she inquired, concerned.

"A little."

"Does that help?"

"Yes... I can think of a few other suggestions that might work better though..."

A wicked smile curled the edges of Hermione's mouth, and she kissed the back of his head. "Scoundrel. Fat chance."

"You have to admit," Severus purred, a small, triumphant smile mapping its way across his mouth, "it was pretty sexy..."

"Yeah, well, I'm not going to let you talk me into that again, _Professor_."

"That's disappointing."

"You'll live."

"I hope so..."

The atmosphere grew quiet again with those three words. Hermione rested her head against his and closed her eyes, hugging him just as he did her, and neither one of them said anything else.

Hermione wasn't even aware until she was delicately prodded awake an hour or so later that she and Severus had, at some point, fallen asleep in each other's arms. She awoke, confused and disoriented, and soon recognized the fuzzy outline of Harry standing next to the bed.

"Hey," she mumbled, stretching as she attempted to sit up behind Severus.

"Hey, 'Mione," Harry greeted, keeping his voice hushed. "Sorry to wake you."

"It's all right."

Severus inhaled deeply and stirred next to her. Hermione carefully eased her arms away from his and rubbed at his back. He made a faint noise but quickly fell silent again, his breathing even and undisturbed as he continued to doze.

"What is it?" she whispered, peering up at her friend, who was watching her attentiveness with undisguised curiosity.

"I saw the paper this morning and came as soon as I could. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wanted to come, too, but I figured you and Snape probably didn't want to, erm, be bombarded by too many people just yet."

"Thanks for coming. I - I'm still kind of in shock. I didn't expect this to happen so soon."

"You got a hearing notice?"

"Yes, just this morning."

"When's it scheduled for?"

"In two weeks."

Harry's green eyes flickered. "That soon?"

"Yes..."

Harry scowled. "They're moving things along quicker than I thought."

"Does Kingsley know?"

Harry nodded his answer. "McGonagall and several others got wind of the news before it made the papers. Kingsley will be overseeing his hearing. That's one good thing in Snape's favor."

"Yes, I - I suppose."

Harry ran his hand through his messy, unkempt hair and glanced momentarily at the sleeping form of his former instructor. A wave of guilt washed over him that surprised Hermione to see.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione. I've tried everything to convince the public without telling them everything outright. I... I'm not sure what else to say, which is why I dropped by."

Hermione reached out and took his hand. "Harry, you've done _a lot_ for Severus and me."

"Yeah, well, little good it's done, really."

"I just wish they'd believe you..."

"Me, too."

"Does _anyone_ believe he's innocent, Harry? I mean, _really_ believe?"

Harry regarded her seriously, and it took him a moment before he could answer. "Sure they do, 'Mione. Don't worry. There are plenty of people who've seen the memories. They can't deny what they saw."

Hermione's cheeks radiated more heat. "And... And Severus and I?"

She was surprised by the small smile that Harry gave her. "People aren't as ill-receptive towards you and Snape as Ron is, 'Mione. He's just being a foul git, and he doesn't understand. Erm, I don't understand much better, but I know we'll continue to talk it over. Ron will get over it."

_I doubt it_, Hermione reflected, for herself alone.

Hermione knew Harry was trying to make her feel better, which she appreciated, but, in her heart, Hermione understood that the reception towards her and Snape wouldn't be all that welcoming from those they knew. Aside from Harry and Ron, she hadn't spoken to anyone about the two of them yet, and now the man she loved might go to prison and leave her for good.

"Is there anything I could say?" Harry pressed, interrupting Hermione's private thoughts. "Anything I could tell the public or even our friends that might help? Maybe Snape could make a statement to the _Prophet?_"

"Oh, um, well..."

"He doesn't have to. It's just a suggestion. I don't think we should stay quiet about it."

"No, I agree with you. I don't think Severus would be willing to do that though, Harry. It might have to come from me."

Harry's eyes flashed with concern. "'Mione, I... I don't think that's such a good idea. People are _really_ angry over this. What they'll put you through—"

"Harry, I love him, and I'm going to stand by him through this, no matter how bad it gets. I always knew things might get tough before they got better. Unfortunately, it's just the way it has to be..."

Harry fell silent, taking in his friend's words and unfortunate circumstances. Then he surprised her by reaching out and squeezing her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione. It... It isn't fair. In light of what's happened, what people are insinuating and putting him through, it... It's just not right."

Hermione appreciated those remarks more than Harry knew. A selection of tears escaped her eyes, which she quickly tried to wipe away. Her lower lip quivered when she tried to express her gratitude.

"Your support means so much, Harry. Thank you. I... I really need you."

She couldn't manage to say anything more. Harry reached his arm around hers and brought her into a hug. It wasn't awkward or strained like Ron's had been. It was warm, comforting, and consoling. Hermione buried her face in his shoulder and cried noiselessly as Harry tried to offer her words of reassurance.

"It's going to take a long time for everyone to make sense of things, 'Mione; it'll take a while for us to get used to this. Not just you and Snape, but everything Snape was doing that we weren't aware of. But I think, with time, people will come around and accept it. You'll see..."

"Harry..."

"Listen, I'm not the only one who believes, 'Mione. There are others, trust me. I'm just the only one who's gone public with my support. The press isn't going to touch me after everything that happened, but you... Well, they'll be ruthless with you, 'Mione. I really think Snape should make a statement, and him alone."

Hermione reared back to look at him, though her face was a mess. "No, Harry. Severus is in no condition to do that, and he'll just say no. I'll do it."

Harry gave an apprehensive look towards the back of Severus's head. "Erm, won't he be angry at you for doing it?"

Hermione smiled, her tears beginning to dry. "Oh, for sure. I'll deal with it though."

Harry laughed lightly, as did Hermione, when Severus suddenly stirred again, his upper body stretching beneath the covers. Hermione quickly leaned over Severus and rubbed at his back again, hoping he might fall back asleep, as Harry watched from a distance.

Severus's long eyelashes fluttered open, despite his clear fatigue. "Hermione..."

He sounded completely shattered at waking up, and Hermione reacted by pecking his cheek. "It's all right, Severus," she reassured close to his face. "I'm here. I'm right here. Go back to sleep."

"What... I heard laughing..."

"Harry's here. We were just talking."

"Potter?"

Harry instinctively took a step back with a look of self-reproach at disturbing the man. Hermione, however, motioned her friend to stay put and bent close to Severus, her hand continuing to massage his back.

"He was thinking maybe we should make a statement to the press."

"Wha..." Severus moaned, exhausted, and closed his eyes. "No..."

"Hush. We'll talk about it later. I'm going to step outside with Harry for a moment, all right?"

Severus grunted a "yes," but as Hermione went to move away from the bed, he called out to her again in a manner that shook Harry to hear. There was an unmistakable ache—a deep-seated longing—for her that his former pupil hardly recognized. It was still strange to hear and watch them both, yes, but it was also somewhat fascinating.

"What is it, love?" Hermione whispered, weaving an arm around him protectively.

"Stay..."

It was fragile—an usually weak plea from the once powerful wizard—and it threw Harry for a loop. Not since that night in the Shrieking Shack had Hogwarts' former Headmaster sounded so vulnerable to him.

"I'm not going anywhere, Severus. I'm just stepping out with Harry for a moment. I'll be right back, I promise."

"All right..."

"Go back to sleep."

Severus mumbled something else to her that Harry didn't catch, and within half a minute, he was fast asleep again, his body slack and snoring softly. Hermione finally inched away from the bed, though rather reluctantly, and was met by Harry's peculiar stare.

"Erm, I'm sorry," he stammered, "I didn't mean to wake him."

"You didn't. He's a light sleeper."

"You think he'll be mad that I was here?"

Hermione smiled broadly. "Probably," to which Harry grinned back.

"Well, if you're going to make a statement, we ought to come up with one soon."

Hermione nodded as they strolled to the door. "Yes... I'll come up with something soon and send it to you to look over. How about that?"

"Sounds good. Don't wait on it too long though, 'Mione. You know how relentless the press will be about him."

Hermione's shoulders fell. "Yes, I... I know."

As they walked out into the bustling hallway, Harry changed topics. "How's he doing?"

Hermione was heartened by her friend's genuine interest. "Better. The tonics seem to be working; we just don't know how long they'll last. Augustus thinks he'll be out of here in a week if he keeps showing more signs of progress."

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it." He paused, and then studied her curiously. "Where will you go?"

"Pardon?"

"Where are you going to stay?"

"Oh!" Hermione was stumped. She hadn't made any sort of arrangements for her or Severus yet; it wasn't something either of them had discussed. "I'm not sure..."

"How about the Burrow?" Hermione's eyes widened, causing Harry to cackle. "You and Snape are welcome to stay there. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley insisted that I let you know that their house is open to... Well, to_ you_, anyway. I think they figured Snape has his own place, so..."

"Oh, well, tell them that's very thoughtful of them, and I appreciate it, but..."

"Yeah, I know."

"I'm not sure Ginny would appreciate my being there right now either, would she?" Hermione asked tentatively; Ginny was another friend she was reluctant to speak to about her relationship. "Especially after what she went through last year?"

"She's skeptical about you and Snape, but she's taking to the news better than I thought she would. She's seen the memories. She realizes what Snape did, and it softened things for her.

"But make no mistake, 'Mione: she, Neville, Luna, everyone we knew, went through hell with him as Headmaster. And he didn't exactly make it easier on any of them."

"I know, Harry. I... I understand it must've been very difficult for them. He hated himself for it though. If you could have heard the way he talked about what went on, what he was forced to do... He despised every part of it, Harry. Will you tell them that, Ginny and the others? Please?"

"Sure, of course I will, 'Mione."

Hermione sighed. She wasn't exactly feeling relieved or any better, but it was good to have someone on her side that would support her and Severus and try to make the transition easier for others. Another request quickly came to Hermione that she didn't want to keep mum on, and she took hold of Harry's arm.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" he returned with a quizzical brow.

"I... I'd really like to see these memories. I haven't seen them yet. Could you, maybe, let me look at them sometime?"

Harry nodded. "Absolutely. You _should_ see them. I could bring them to you."

"Oh? Here?"

"Sure, why not?"

Hermione shifted her eyes timidly. "Only..."

"Snape?"

Hermione readily smirked, and the two of them giggled in unison. "Yeah, we might have to be discreet about this. I'm not sure if he'd like me to see them or not."

"Why wouldn't he?"

"Well, I'm assuming many of them revolve around your mum, don't they?"

At this, Harry's face seemed to grow older, even wiser, before her very eyes. "Yes," he answered in a soft whisper, his mouth cast into a reflective frown. "I'm assuming you know about their history?"

"Yes and no."

"Well, blame it on me if Snape doesn't want you to see them, because I think you should."

Hermione's grin spread across her cheeks. "Very well; if you insist." She hesitated a moment, then wrapped her arms around Harry's neck. He responded amicably, and Hermione couldn't help growing emotional again. "Thank you, Harry... You have no idea how much your support means to me..."

"Don't worry, 'Mione," he comforted her in return. "It's just going to take time, that's all. It's something we all need, myself included."

"Yes, I - I understand."

They parted on good terms, with Harry promising to bring the memories to her later in the week. Hermione, in the interim, would have to put together a statement to give to the press, and, though Harry told her to keep it a secret, Hermione knew she couldn't possibly keep it from Severus. He wouldn't be happy, she concluded easily enough, but it_ had_ to be done.

* * *

Later that week, Hermione was awakened against her will by Severus after a long previous day of tests and diagnostics on his improving condition. Hearing Severus's repeated urgent call to her, Hermione came to with a pounding headache. Gentle morning sunlight seeped into the room, momentarily obstructing her vision as she tried to pry her eyes open.

"Hermione! _Hermione!_ Look at this!"

"Merlin, what is it?" she grumbled and felt something lightweight shoved into her lap.

As her eyesight adjusted, she took in Severus's frantic eyes. He was propped up in bed with the covers drawn back a ways, as though he were attempting to get out of bed to wake her up.

"Severus, what on earth are you doing?" she startled, taken aback.

Severus, however, rolled his eyes. "It's eight o'clock, Hermione. It's hardly early."

"To _you_ it isn't, Mr. Insomniac."

"Just read the bloody thing, would you?"

Hermione finally peered down at the newspaper that had been thrown into her lap. As she unfolded that morning's _Daily Prophet_, she was perturbed by an unsettling image that surfaced on the front page. It was a black and white image of her, taken at least a year ago, and in a separate image next to her was...

"_Severus!_"

"Read it," he snarled, impatiently crossing his arms over his chest.

Hermione wasn't aware that her hands had started shaking after she read the headline that followed: _Scandal at Hogwarts - Former notorious Headmaster and coldblooded murderer, Severus Snape, caught having sexual relations with his student, Miss Hermione Granger, one of Harry Potter's best friends._

"Oh, my god..."

Severus snorted. "It gets better."

Hermione eyes fleetingly met his, her complexion whitening, before she reluctantly returned to the paper held in her quivering hands. She let out several involuntary gasps the further she delved into the article.

"How... How do they know about us?"

Severus unlatched his arms. "Beats me."

"Half of this isn't even true! Saying that you 'sabotaged our pupil-instructor relationship'! And... _What?_ I never conspired against Harry! And... You didn't trick me into having sex with you! What the hell— Merlin, this is bad..."

"No kidding."

Hermione scrunched up her nose. "It's like a really bad tabloid article."

"Look who wrote it."

Hermione glanced at the writer beneath the headline and her blood immediately began to boil. "Of course, _Skeeter!_ That lowly, lying, despicable wench!" Hermione's trembling hands coiled into fists, crinkling the newspaper as well. "I should have exposed her for who she was long ago!"

When Hermione didn't receive further response from Severus, she threw the paper down in disgust, only to be jolted by what her eyesight took in. Severus was lying back against his pillows with a depleted scowl that had become a bit of a routine for him. It didn't lessen her reaction whenever she caught sight of it, however. He appeared much worse than he had just the previous day, and Hermione understood what the cause of this dramatic fluctuation was.

Silently, Hermione crawled onto the bed next to him and took one of his hands in hers. "This is just the beginning," he informed her quietly before she could say anything, his eyes glinting with shame. "This is only the start of what they'll do to you, Hermione..."

"Don't worry about me. I can handle myself."

"I have no desire to drag you down with me—"

Hermione leaned forward and touched his cheek with her free hand. "Don't even start, Severus. I won't listen to this. We're in this together, remember?"

"But..."

"_I don't care_, Severus. I've told you before: I'm not going anywhere." Severus reclined into her touch and shut his eyes for a moment, leaving Hermione crestfallen. "We'll get through this," she whispered encouragingly, hating the way Severus hopelessly returned her gaze. "I think it's time to make a statement to the press."

Severus hissed and immediately turned away from her. "No, I won't let you do that."

Hermione willed herself to remain patient. "I have just as much right to defend myself as anyone, Severus. I have the right to explain my decisions and address what was falsely insinuated in that article."

"Even so—"

"I'm going to write something now."

Hermione started to get up from the bed, but Severus surprised her by forcefully grabbing one of her wrists. "No!" he half cried, half begged. "Don't!"

"Severus—"

"I won't have you defending me in the press. They'll tear you apart, Hermione. Believe me—"

"Believe _me_, Severus, I'm used to it. I can handle this. Calm down."

"But I..." Severus shifted his eyes, his cheeks glowing red. "I don't want them to take any more shots at you..."

"Severus, it's all right, _really_—"

"No, Hermione, _it isn't all right_. And I... I feel guilty enough as it is. _Please..._"

There was a terrible, small ache to his plea that shattered Hermione to hear. She fell back onto the bed beside him.

"Severus, you aren't alone anymore. You aren't fighting this all by yourself, and I'm certainly not going to take this lying down. I'm going to answer to Ms. Skeeter's article, and I'm going to tell the public the truth. If they want to despise me for it, so be it. You and I know the truth, and all of our friends will know soon enough. That's all that matters."

Severus exhaled dejectedly. "I don't want any of this for you, Hermione..."

Hermione did her best to smile back. "Then you should have thought of that before you fell madly in love with me."

To this, his expression softened. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Swine."

"I'm serious, Hermione..."

"So am I."

Severus opened his mouth to retort, then closed it, clearly agitated, which Hermione found captivating. She smirked outright and kissed the tip of his nose, hearing him sigh and whither to her will. She inched back and looked him square in the eyes.

"Now shut up, I have an important owl to write."

Asking one of the Mediwitches outside of Severus's room for a quill and parchment, she set to writing her letter to _The Daily Prophet_ without delay, ignoring Severus for the most part, who watched her through narrowed eyes all the while.

A thought washed over her while she was writing. "I wonder who leaked us to the press. Ms. Skeeter obviously spoke to someone."

Severus growled and shifted to get more comfortable. "Who knows? Someone we know could have just slipped in mentioning that you were here, and that's all that woman would need to run her mouth off."

Hermione paused writing to give him an affectionate smile. Reclined in her sofa chair, Hermione extended her arm to take his hand in hers.

"Well, we'll get back at her for it."

Severus was about to say something when they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Augustus waltzed in and greeted them in his casual, friendly manner like always. Hermione suspected the Healer had probably read the article already and was grateful when he didn't act at all out of sorts, or bring any attention to the matter.

"I have good news," he stated pleasantly, looking from Hermione to Severus with his handsome grin.

"Yes?" Severus asked, peering up at him skeptically.

"You've shown enough improvement over the past week that I feel comfortable enough to give you the go-ahead. I'm going to release you at the end of the week."

"_Really?_" Hermione's features lit up, and she pressed Severus's hand. "Oh, that's wonderful, Augustus. Thank you!"

"That doesn't mean that you won't have to check in with me," Augustus came back at them sternly, giving Severus a severe look that made Hermione suppress a giggle. "We'll have to keep adjusting your tonics until we find the right combination."

Severus sighed, not at all pleased with this plan. "How often must I return?"

"Once every two weeks."

"_Every two weeks?_"

"Until you start to show a long-term positive prognosis, yes." Severus snarled his disapproval, but Augustus ignored the dark wizard's audible griping. "Look on the bright side, Master Snape. You're going home. I think that's the positive reinforcement you both need to hear right now."

Severus glanced up at him again, but Augustus simply extended his smile, bowed respectfully to them both, and walked out of the room, humming as he went. Once he was out of earshot, Severus grumbled and turned to Hermione with a harsh scowl.

"He knows."

Hermione, for the moment, couldn't stop herself from laughing. Despite the _Prophet's_ nasty article, she was more than a little relieved to finally be leaving St. Mungo's, and she showcased her enthusiasm by pressing Severus's hand again.

"Get used to it, love. I'm afraid the cat's out of the bag now. Time to feed the hounds."

* * *

Hermione was more emotional over Severus's memories than she thought possible. Harry had brought Dumbledore's Pensieve, with McGonagall's permission, to St. Mungo's just so Hermione could view them with her own eyes. She was surprised when Severus didn't try to fight her on seeing them, but then, still bedridden, he had very little choice in the matter. Instead, Severus rolled his eyes, turned on his side, and watched in disgruntled silence as Hermione dipped her head into the Pensieve to look into his traumatic past. She wasn't aware of him literally holding his breath the entire time.

"Was this really necessary, Potter?" he hissed at the young man, standing in the corner, observing quietly.

"I think so, don't you?" Harry challenged with a small smile that Severus didn't match.

The professor muttered something under his breath and waited to judge what Hermione's reaction might be—particularly towards Lily—once she saw everything. When her head shot out of the Pensieve, Severus found a mixture of emotions trailing her face: deeply-held sadness, pity, relief, depression, anger over what he had been through...

She waited until she and Severus were alone, however, to press him with her questions. "Severus?"

"Questions?" he returned, amused.

Hermione gave him a faint smile. "Dumbledore... The Shrieking Shack..."

Severus sighed his acknowledgment. "That's when I realized I couldn't trust him worth a damn. Albus always favored his prized Gryffindors, and I was a lowly boy who had discovered a secret about one of his treasured pupils. I only realized then that what I had narrowly escaped didn't matter to him."

Hermione brought Severus's hand up to her face and cradled it against her cheek, listening attentively. "I can't believe that he made you swear not to say anything after you almost... Well, regardless, that's extremely traumatic for one so young to go through. And for him to use his authority like that..."

Hermione recalled that forlorn, terribly rejected look in a young Severus's black eyes. He was a mere boy then, already fragile and isolated, with only Hogwarts for sanctuary, and even there, he found adults he couldn't look up to or trust. Every new glimpse into Severus's past only brought Hermione more personal injury, as if his pain were her own.

Severus didn't say anything in response to her quiet reflections. He simply offered her a halfhearted smile that she knew wasn't at all genuine. They continued to converse for a time about the memories, Severus addressing her inquiries openly—about those early days with Lily, his aloof parents, his unhappy teenage years, and secretly looking after Harry—until there wasn't much else to say.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered sadly, brushing her fingers through his sable locks. "How you survived is a miracle. I would've fallen apart..."

"No, you wouldn't." He smirked, his eyelids growing heavy at her gentle stroking. "You'd have survived just as I did."

"I'm not so sure about that..."

"Well, better me than you."

That made Hermione frown severely. "_No_. It shouldn't have happened to you_ at all_, Severus. No one deserves that kind of a life..."

_One bad break after the next_, her mind and her heart concluded together in misery.

Severus closed his eyes, focusing instead on the soft fingers massaging his scalp. "It led me to you, didn't it?"

Hermione's breath stalled, and it was a minute or two before she could reply. "That doesn't make me feel better; not for everything you went through, Severus."

"But it's the truth. It was worth it in the end, really."

Hermione bit hard on her lower lip, stricken by such brutal honesty. She let her nose rub his, and he reopened his eyes.

"I'm still sorry. Truly, deeply, wholeheartedly sorry for what you didn't deserve—"

"Stop it," he grunted, his hand reaching out from underneath the covers to cup one side of her face. "I have a question for you."

Hermione's eyes constricted. "You're just trying to get off topic."

"That, too," he said, his voice surprisingly light.

"Fine. What?"

"Have you considered where you'll go?"

"Go?"

"Once I'm released from here."

"Oh! Right... That's something we_ do_ need to discuss, isn't it?"

"I was thinking..." He hesitated. Hermione raised her eyebrows, intrigued. "Would you be opposed to... To staying with me, at my place?"

"Your place?" she found herself repeating.

Severus shifted his eyes, abnormally timid and uneasy, though she didn't understand why. "Yes... It's not exactly a luxurious sort of setting, but it's... It's my home. It's where I normally spend my summers."

"Where is it?"

Hermione remembered Severus's childhood home from the Pensieve, and it certainly hadn't looked like much, dark and dreary and not at all cozy or inviting. Her guess was confirmed by Severus's answer.

"Spinner's End. It's where I grew up. I can assure you, it doesn't look like what you saw anymore. I've had much of it tidied up and repainted. It - It stills needs some work, but it looks considerably different than before. I... I'd understand if you'd rather stay somewhere else—"

"Severus."

Hermione noted her lover's endearing—to her—self-effacing talking up his birth place, evidently ashamed and embarrassed, which hurt her to see. She didn't think he should feel that way, but she understood at the same time.

"You don't need to try so hard to sell the place to me like a landlord."

Severus went red in the face and tapered his eyebrows. "Well, I just wouldn't want you to think too highly of my home, or be disappointed in the place should you... Should you decide to stay... With me."

There was a considerable pause in which Hermione couldn't help but stare; he seemed to be waiting anxiously on her response and was showing signs of visible nervousness. _Adorable man._ A slow smile crept across Hermione's mouth and she brought her lips to his, sealing the deal with a kiss.

"I'd love to stay with you."

She caught the glimmer of relief in the depths of Severus's eyes. He let out a weighty sigh and matched her smile with a subtle one of his own.

"You... You would?"

"Yes, of course I would, you silly sod!"

Severus, however, cleared his throat. "It... Like I said, Hermione, it isn't much, but—"

Hermione pressed her hand to his lips. She shook her head at him, making sure that he kept his eyes on her.

"Thank you for asking me to stay with you. _I'd love to._ It's what I want."

To her disappointment, however, another flash of surprise swept across his harsh features. "Really?"

"Yes, Severus. _Really._"

He fumbled to form a reply, and then lowered his head against his pillow. "Thank you," he said after another pause.

_He really thought I'd say no..._

"Severus, don't you know me at all by now?" Hermione found herself asking, even though she hadn't meant to. "I want to be with you. Isn't that clear to you?"

"I... Yes, but..."

Hermione wrapped an arm around him and re-pressed her nose to his. "I know what you're thinking. You think that eventually I'm going to change my mind, or up and leave you out of the blue, but I'm not, Severus. That's not going to happen to you. Not this time. I'm here to stay, Severus. _I'm here._"

Hermione glided her hand over the exposed side of his face before giving his cheek a warmhearted kiss. She felt Severus weave an arm around her back in return and haul her to his chest.

"Thank you," he repeated, gentle and quiet.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered against his ear. He didn't say anything back, but she knew he was hanging on every word. "I won't leave you, Severus. I promise. I'm with you, and we'll get through this. _Together._"

"But the hearing..."

"We'll figure that out, too."

"It's a little over a week away."

"I know. I'll need to connect with Harry once we get out of here. He'll know a lot more about what's going on."

Severus growled, not at all adhered to that idea. "Must you involve Potter?"

Hermione couldn't help but snicker. "Yes, Severus,_ I must_. He's my best friend, after all. Get used to it." Severus sighed but didn't say anything, only continued to hold fast to her quietly. "You know," Hermione interrupted the silence after a while, "I'm looking forward to seeing your place."

"You are?"

"Yes. It's connected to your past. There's still a lot about that I don't know. I'm admittedly curious to find out more..."

Severus grumbled low in her ear, tightening his grip around her. "So, in other words, you want to snoop around to see what you can find."

"Naturally."

"Don't you ever get tired of needing to know everything?"

"No. I enjoy a good puzzle. And_ you_ take the cake in that department."

"I'm really not that complicated, Hermione."

"Mmm. You've said that before."

"Yes, I did."

"And that's a complete farce." Hermione drew back against his pillow, meeting his eyes gently. "But enough of this. You need to rest."

She could tell that Severus wasn't at all approving of that idea. "I'm tired of sleeping," he moaned, sounding much like a toddler, instead of a former Headmaster. It made her laugh wholeheartedly.

"After years of not being able to sleep, you're going to whine about that _now?_"

"Point taken."

Hermione brushed her fingers through his hair again. Severus easily succumbed and willingly shut his eyes, taking a deep breath and very much enjoying her attentiveness.

"The next week or so is going to be trying, Severus." Hermione hated thinking on what lay ahead, but it was growing more and more unavoidable. "You're going to need to keep up your strength and do what Augustus tells you."

Severus made an audible grunt that, to Hermione, sounded rather defiant. "Yeah, yeah..."

"_I mean it._"

"I will."

"Whatever. You're stubborn. _I know you._ Please listen to him."

"Whatever you say, boss."

"And don't be fresh when I'm being serious."

With his eyes still closed, Severus reached out in search of Hermione's free hand and brought it close to his face. "I promise I'll do what Augustus wants me to. Happy?"

Even though he couldn't see, Hermione's reply echoed that of a satisfied smile. "Yes."

"Very well." He paused to take another deep breath, his voice becoming groggy. "I want to keep you happy..."

Hermione stopped weaving her fingers through his hair. His unexpected comment was arresting. She needed a moment to gather herself, and then grazed her hand down to Severus's shoulders, massaging the various stiff knots.

"You already make me happy, love," she said, heartened by her own words, knowing how much she meant them. "You don't need to work at it so hard. I'm quite happy being with you, Severus. _Very happy._"

"There's something seriously wrong with you..." came his drowsy retort.

Hermione smacked his back and drew her arm more securely around him, bringing the near dozing wizard into a snug embrace. "Thanks a lot, you snarky git."

* * *

**A/N#2: Finally leaving St. Mungo's...**


	47. Spinner's End

**A/N: It's my birthday today, so have an update! As such, this is really more just a "settling in" sort of chapter. The next chapter will contain a lot more plot-wise.  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 47: Spinner's End**

Severus had finally been given the go ahead from Augustus Pye to leave St. Mungo's, but Apparation to Spinner's End alone had proven more of a challenge for him than either of them bargained for. Severus was unsteady on his feet and nearly collapsed when they arrived in front of the man's dreary establishment. It took a considerable amount of time to get him up the steps to the front door as well, but Hermione made a point of not drawing attention to either problem, as she knew it would only humiliate him.

A part of Hermione was quite excited by this new venture, but the other half remained apprehensive about how well Severus would do his first days out of hospital. This was new, nerve-racking territory for the pair of them—living with someone for the first time—and Hermione tried to keep the positivity up as best she could.

It was difficult, though. Severus's upcoming hearing was already hanging over their heads like a grey cloud. Hermione wanted to focus on taking in her new surroundings, but her mind kept wandering back to what was at stake, and what her heart couldn't ignore.

Spinner's End was a bit gloomy for Hermione's tastes, but she tried to put her best foot forward when she stepped into the place for the first time. "It's in need of a good dusting," she observed once they were inside the darkened foyer. She coughed and waved a few dust particles away with her wand.

"It should. I'm only here three months out of the year."

With his wand now back in his possession, Severus levitated their belongings—Hermione had taken the liberty of getting Severus's things from Hogwarts—to the top of the second floor and immediately reared off to the left, into the nearby sitting room, to sit down. There were white sheets hanging over the furnishings, which he waved away and vanished with his wand before taking a seat in a worn, leather-bound chair near the hearth.

Hermione surveyed the handsome room, soaking in the place of Severus's birth. The furnishings were a light cherry wood, the fabrics a mixture of dark greens, navy blues, or deep-shaded crimsons. The house—or what she had seen of it so far—looked quite sophisticated and all-around different from what she had seen in his memories, and she was secretly relieved to, thus far, find very little trace of that horrible time in Severus's life. It put her at ease a little bit more.

"I'm going to grab the pile of mail outside."

Severus eyed her cautiously from his seated position. "I wouldn't bother. It's probably all hate mail."

Hermione suspected he was right. People had probably figured out by now where the man lived, despite the quiet life Severus led away from Hogwarts. Hermione had feared they might find the place in ruins when they arrived or, at the very least, in some sort of disarray. That was until she sensed the powerful, deeply-embedded protective enchantments in place, including a handful of highly advanced invisibility charms.

"Well, in that case, we can have a good laugh later on," she giggled and disappeared down the hall, returning shortly with a huge assortment of levitated, unopened owls that she cast onto a sofa near where Severus sat.

Severus had his head in his hand and his eyes closed. Hermione reflected over how exhausted he looked and leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

"Why don't I freshen up your room first, that way you can rest a little?"

As she suspected, however, Severus waved that idea away immediately. His head snapped up.

"I'm fine."

"Even so, I'll start on the upstairs."

"I'll take care of this room and the kitchen."

He started to gingerly ease out of his chair when Hermione, her voice slightly alarmed, shook her head at him. "Absolutely not. Stay put. This won't take long for me to do on my own."

Severus stubbornly ignored her suggestion and continued to get to his feet. "I'm not useless, Hermione," he snarled quietly, annoyed and a little red in the face.

He was unsteady on his feet though, and Hermione could tell he was having some trouble breathing, but she did her best not to fuss. "Don't overdo it, Severus," she chided him, before turning away to climb the stairs to the second level.

"Second door on the right," he informed her before she could ask.

The place was exceedingly dark, she considered as she progressed up the staircase. Most of the home's details and furnishings had thus far been a little difficult to make out, and Hermione nearly tripped over her own feet once she reached the top of the stairs. She cursed into the darkness and immediately cast whatever candles or lamps might be in the hallway to light, which gave her eyesight a view of a narrow hallway with four doors, two on each side.

Hermione levitated their things into the second room and walked inside. The bedroom was small but, to her happy surprise, intimate and rather cozy despite its proportions. A queen-sized, four-poster bed was at her left, an intricate fireplace of white marble opposite her, and the rest of the walls were covered in high book stacks. She was surprised at how soft the room felt, though still elegant and austere; very "Severus-like," as Hermione penned it. She couldn't help but smile. The earthly blues and greens set her at ease, and she found herself settling in more comfortably as she moseyed about.

After thoroughly dusting the place with her wand and setting about putting away her personal belongings, Hermione took a moment to look the place over once she was through. She wasn't as nervous about this setup now as she thought she would be. After all, she had never lived with someone before, nor had Severus, and that predicament in itself would certainly take some getting used to.

Hermione's active mind wandered to a very young Severus again as she glanced over a few select photographs along the walls, mostly of Severus or his mother. There weren't many clues into his ghostly past, however. Had this been Severus's room as a child? His parents' quarters, perhaps? What must it feel like to live in a place that brought him such misery as a youngster?

_No wonder he had the place redone_, she reflected sadly.

Not wanting to get distracted by melancholy, Hermione checked out the loo to her right, inwardly relieved to find it in very good condition and not of the horrors that she had shared with the Weasley boys in the past. Everything was clean, tidy, and orderly. For not being occupied too often, it even smelled fresh.

_Thank the gods_, she snickered, and headed downstairs. There would, hopefully, be plenty of time to inspect the second floor more thoroughly once she got about dusting it from top to bottom.

As she reached the lower landing of the staircase, she spotted Severus in the sitting room where she had left him, dusting the heavy, drawn, red curtains with his wand. He hadn't progressed too far in tidying up the place, but then she knew he had already gotten quite a bit of exercise for one day.

Severus suddenly whipped his head to one side and sneezed violently—twice—into the crook of his elbow. He nearly toppled sideways before Hermione was able to reach him and steady him out.

"Bless you."

He acknowledged her quietly before returning to what he was doing. "I trust you found everything all right?"

"I did, yes. Nice digs, Mister."

Severus half turned his head and eyed her with an arched eyebrow. She tittered lightly and weaved her arms around his torso, her head propped against his back as she hugged him close.

"I only did your room for now. I figured I should probably run an errand or two before it gets too late."

"Errand?"

"Mmm. I think a certain fur ball would like to inspect this place over; make sure everything's on the up and up."

She paused, reaching onto her tiptoes to peck his cheek, grateful, for the time being, to not catch a glimpse of the prominent snake bites that so often made their presence known to her. Severus was wearing his cravat again, which she welcomed, probably more than he knew.

"Provided that's all right with you?" she added, studying his profile as he worked.

"I suppose."

Hermione could sense Severus wasn't at all opposed to the idea of receiving Crookshanks into his home, and that brought warmheartedness to her face as she grinned behind his back. She sunk her weight into him, feeling the contours of his shoulder through his stiff coat.

"I suspect there isn't much food in the house?"

"No, unless you'd like canned soup and beans for dinner?"

Hermione scrunched up her nose. "I'll pass, thanks. I can pick up a few things after I get back."

"I can do that," he insisted casually.

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Stubborn arse._

"No, you won't. Stay here. I won't be long."

"I_ can_ do a thing or two myself, Hermione."

"I know you can, but I don't want you trekking out on your own just yet. You can't walk very far, Severus. You need to ease yourself back into doing things."

"You make me sound like a helpless cripple."

"Well, you_ are_ kind of a helpless case in many respects," she teased, trying to get him to look at the positive as she nuzzled her nose into his back. "Snarky git."

Her heart skipped a beat when he responded well enough, laughing in that rough, yet gentle manner of his. His arm moved onto the book cases to his right, his wand gathering up various dust participles into the air and dissolving them.

"You'll have to give me a tour when I get back."

"There isn't much to see, I'm afraid."

"Oh, rubbish. How about your Dark Arts collection? That sounds like something worth seeing."

Severus paused what he was doing and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "You remembered my collection?"

"Of course I remember."

"I didn't think you were paying that much attention back then."

"That's harsh. You're actually kind of interesting, you know."

"Oh, am I?"

"Mmm. Quite."

"And my living quarters?"

Hermione sighed dramatically and tugged at his waist. "Merlin, thank you for not living like a pig."

Severus snorted and placed an arm over hers as his wand picked up some dust along the floor. "Now that _is_ harsh. I'm insulted."

"You shouldn't be. It isn't my fault for having stereotypical reservations. Lots of men who live alone... Well, you know..."

"What? Live in our own filth?"

"Well, you bachelors aren't notorious for being the cleanliest of beasts."

"How sexist."

"It's not sexist. It's the truth. Trust me, I know from experience."

"Lived with a male companion before, have you?"

Hermione blushed. "No, but I did spend an awful lot of time with anywhere from four to six boys at the Burrow the past several years..."

"Ahhh, I see. I can't imagine the horrors."

"You don't know the half of it. Poor Mrs. Weasley."

"Indeed."

Hermione reluctantly unlocked the man from her embrace and moved away to gather up her beaded bag. Severus finally turned around and gave her his full gaze.

"Would you like some help?" Those dark, reflective eyes regarded her thoughtfully, reserved only for her. "With your parents, I mean?"

To this, Hermione gave him a considerate smile. "No, thank you, it's fine. We have a few things to take care of first before that can happen. Your hearing, for one. In the meantime, I intend to get Crooks as inconspicuously as possible and get out."

"As you wish."

He returned quietly to what he was doing but then abruptly sought to remove a handkerchief from his pocket, which he brought to his face and sneezed into several times. Hermione looped her beaded bag over her shoulder and scrutinized him carefully.

"You should take your allergy tonic before Crooks gets here."

Severus sneezed again before answering her, his voice muffled and wheezy, "Yeah, well, I'll need more ingredients to make it through the weekend. I'm running low."

"All right. I can make a trip to Slug & Jiggers tomorrow. I reckon they'll be closed by the time I collect Crooks."

"Hermione—" he started to protest, glaring at her, to which she matched.

"It's not a big deal, Severus. I wouldn't offer if it was such a hassle."

"Yes, well, if I wanted a personal shopper, I'd hire one."

Hermione shook her head, giving him another small smile, and headed for the hallway. "You're a pain in the arse. I'm out of here."

"Finally," he whispered into his handkerchief, rubbing at his nose as he set to dusting the far corner of the room.

"I heard that!" came a pleasant shout from the front door that made him smirk.

"I meant you to!"

Then the door shut and Severus stopped dusting to stare at the edge of the sitting room where Hermione had disappeared. For the first time in recent memory, the place felt far too quiet and isolating to the once reclusive Slytherin, and he didn't enjoy it one bit. He used to find comfort in such times of solitude, but now his impulse in wanting to know when Hermione might return was already eating at him, and she had only just left. He hadn't asked her beforehand, mainly because he didn't want to come off as desperate, and berated himself for acting so childish.

_Pathetic, Severus._ He hissed his aggravation and slowly made his way to the kitchen, hoping that tiding up the rest of the first floor of the house would prove enough of a distraction whilst Hermione was out.

* * *

Hermione returned much later than expected. It took a lot more energy and courage to approach the house she had once called home than she imagined, only to find it shockingly deserted. Fearing the worst, she sought information from a nearby elderly neighbor she had known most of her life, a widow named Mrs. Flaversham.

The crabby-tempered woman informed Hermione that her parents had up and moved to Australia six months prior—_What the hell?_—and had, to her enormous relief, left Crookshanks in the woman's care. Hermione immediately offered to take the cat off her hands, which Miss Flaversham was more than happy to oblige. She made a point of complaining about the feline's maltreatment and ill appreciation for her services. Hermione suspected Crookshanks hadn't taken a liking to the old woman at all, and her guesses were confirmed when the orange feline nearly catapulted into her arms, content to be rid of the old crow for good.

Hermione held back tears as she snuggled the fluffy half-Kneazle close to her chest. She had missed him far more than she realized and was relieved to not have to resort to magic to get her cat back. She didn't even bother to return to her home and inspect its contents. Looking at the outside was painful enough.

Hermione Apparated herself and Crookshanks back to Spinner's End, but she was a bit startled when she opened the door, using the passwords Severus had given her, only to find it dark and seemingly empty. "Severus?" she called out with some concern, placing Crookshanks on the ground.

The cat scurried away into the sitting room, leaving Hermione to follow his lead, where she discovered Severus sprawled out on the couch asleep. He was covered by a pile of blankets, despite the summer heat that drifted in from a nearby window, and was snoring softly. It was a testament to how accustomed Severus had grown to Hermione's presence that he didn't startle and wake up right away, something the witch was quite grateful for, given the circumstances.

Crookshanks jumped onto the couch to sniff lightly at his face. "Crooks!" The cat meowed to his mistress. "No, Mister, let him sleep."

The cat situated himself at Severus's side and curled up in his lap. Astonishingly, Severus didn't stir, and Hermione took the opportunity to _Accio_ his tonics from upstairs. She suspected he probably hadn't taken them.

They came flying down from the second level, and Hermione levitated them all to a wooden coffee table in the center of the room. Her eyesight had adjusted to the shadows by now, and as she made her way over to where Severus slept, her vision gravitated towards the disturbing, violent-looking scars visible on the slumbering wizard's neck. He had removed his frock coat and cravat at some point, and now the bites stared back at her, unavoidable and unyielding and the cause of so much undeserved pain and suffering.

Hermione bent over Severus's slackened form and gently prodded him awake. "Severus?" she pressed quietly, guilty about waking him. He was evidently exhausted, and she wondered just how much he might have exerted himself cleaning the place while she was out. "Severus, wake up. C'mon, love, I need you to wake up now."

Then she saw a trace of wetness running down his cheeks. He was mumbling something in his sleep. It made her pause to listen.

"No," he sputtered, almost like an unnatural whimper. "This isn't me... I never...wanted...any of this."

"Severus?"

"I...can't...do this... Please... No."

"Severus? Sweetheart, wake up."

"No. I can't... _No..._"

"Wake up, Severus," she whispered urgently, shaking him with more force.

Severus's even breathing stalled and his eyes shot open, startled and, to Hermione's distress, brimming with tears. She spoke quickly in an attempt to calm him down.

"It's all right, love." She reached down to brush a few hairs out of his eyes. "It's just me. I'm back."

He acknowledged her after blinking a few times and quickly wiped at his face, perceivably embarrassed to discover he had been crying in his sleep. He looked away, overrun by fatigue and, Hermione feared, whatever nightmare he had been rehashing in his dreams.

"Are you all right?" she asked as gently as she could.

Severus's eyes slowly came back to her, and she hated how withdrawn they had grown. "Yes."

"What were you dreaming about?"

"Nothing."

"Severus, it's all right, you can tell me."

Severus took a deep breath. "The past," he answered somberly.

"About the war?"

"Yes..."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I... I can't."

Hermione let out a sigh. She didn't have the heart to push him. Not anymore. She suspected he would share more with her in his own time.

"All right then. I'm sorry for waking you, though, I suppose, I'm sort of glad I did. I have your tonics here." She nodded towards the coffee table, to a handful of variously colored and different sized phials.

Severus projected a scowl. "Not now, please," he groaned.

"Don't argue, Severus. You need to take them when Augustus tells you to take them. End of discussion."

She reached out her hand to grab two of the phials and uncorked them whilst Severus squinted at her in the darkness. "You're far too bossy," he groused with a faint smirk, causing Hermione to raise an eyebrow at him.

"And you're only figuring this out now?"

It was a playful remark reminiscent of a happier time—a time that felt decades away now—and it caused a subtle shift to emerge in the black pools of Severus's eyes. Hermione offered him her warmhearted grin, however, and pressed one of the phials to his lips.

"Here."

Severus took every tonic in silence and without protest. Hermione was admittedly proud of the effort he was making. When he was through, she motioned to a certain feline still perched in his lap.

"You take your allergy tonic?" Severus grunted a 'yes.' "Good, because Crooks is here."

Severus raised his head and was suddenly met with a soft meow and a pair of whiskers in front of his face. Hermione giggled and sat down next to them, watching Severus greet the feline in his own private way, extending his hand out to stroke the cat's furry head. She noticed the handsomely understated, half smile that emerged on his face as well, which pleased her to see.

"Hey, Crooks."

His voice was drained, but Hermione knew he was more delighted at seeing Crookshanks than he was letting on and found the moment captivating. The cat purred in response, and more emphatically once the man's fingers stroked underneath his chin.

"I think he's missed you."

"I'm surprised he remembers me."

"Oh, rubbish. _Of course_ he remembers you. You're only the second person in all the world he actually likes."

"That's unfortunate."

Crookshanks plopped himself down on Severus's chest, no doubt enjoying this reunion with his mistress's lover. Then he somewhat startled them both when his paw reached out and lightly brushed the brutal-looking crevasses in Severus's neck. Severus froze and an unnatural flicker passed through his eyes that Hermione recognized; it caused her to stiffen.

"Don't touch, Crooks," he commanded with bite.

"Severus, he doesn't know any better."

Severus glanced up at her with an unsettling sort of anger he had shown a handful of times in hospital. Though he had managed to get it under some level of control, seeing its emergence was nevertheless unnerving.

"This cat understands well enough," his sniped coolly. "_Don't touch._"

Hermione fell silent. She half braced herself for him to lose control again, but he didn't. Instead, he turned his head away from them and shut his eyes, as though trying to regain control over his flailing temper. It pained Hermione greatly, but she smartly chose not to draw attention to it.

"All right, Crooks," she cautioned her cat, easing him back a bit, "that's enough."

The cat gave a sort of confused meow. His head surveyed Severus's profile sideways before he rubbed affectionately at the man's cheek, echoing a few loud, contented purrs that made Hermione laugh. It was a rare display of sweetness from the often aloof feline, and it seemed to soften Severus's demeanor considerably. His hand reached up to rub the cat's ears.

"All right, all right," he grumbled, though it sounded more like a rough chuckle. "Enough, you scoundrel. You're starting to make my nose itch."

"You all right? Your eyes are watering."

"Yeah, I'm fine."

She thought he sounded congested and reacted by pulling Crookshanks back further to give him some space. The last thing she wanted was for him to have an allergy attack. His body was already going through enough turmoil as it was.

"You sure, Severus?" She eyed him over considerately, her worry increasing when he suddenly stifled a sneeze into his hand. "Do you need to take something else?"

"No," he answered through a few hitching breaths. "I just can't have him right up against my face is all."

Hermione was puzzled by this seemingly new ailment. "He's gotten this close to you before..."

"Yes, well, I don't know what this is then." He sniffed and rubbed delicately at his nose.

"I was afraid of this." Hermione sighed heavily. "I shouldn't have brought him..."

Severus dismissed her lamentation with a wave of his hand. "Rubbish, Hermione. I _wanted_ you to bring him. I'm fine."

"Yes, well, even so, you aren't well, Severus, and you sound like you're having a reaction."

"I'm perfectly fine."

His body, however, unexpectedly buckled forward and he sneezed two more times into his hand, his body trembling and reacting just as Hermione had feared. She commanded Crookshanks to get off the couch, which he did with a loud meow, prancing out of the room and disappearing from view. Hermione eased Severus back against the sofa cushions and pulled the covers up to his neck.

"Try to relax, Severus. I'll go see what I can find that might help."

"It's not a big deal," he insisted and looked like he was going to say something else, but then his body snapped forward again and he sneezed several more times, his hair flying forward to mask his face momentarily. "I'm sorry," he groaned when he was through. He collapsed back onto the cushions, spent.

"Wow, you weren't kidding when you said you were highly allergic."

"I don't need anything else."

"Severus—"

"Really, Hermione, it's over. I'm fine."

Not wanting to argue, Hermione merely shook her head in compliance. "Very well."

Severus moved onto his side with his eyes closed. Hermione thought after a moment or two that he might have fallen back asleep, but when she inched closer, he moved a little. She hovered over him and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Feeling any better?"

"Yes, a little. Thank you."

"I'm sure that wasn't at all good for you, Severus."

"Oh, shut it," he mumbled weakly, and she laughed. "You fuss way too much, especially for someone your age."

"Whatever, old man." Hermione's smile widened. "You hungry?"

"No, not really."

Hermione anticipated that answer, but it was still disappointing. "You still don't have much of an appetite..."

"Mmm. There's dinner still heating in the kitchen if you want something."

"What?"

"Chicken and basil stew with bread. I left a warming charm on; I wasn't sure when you'd be back, but I figured you might be a bit famished."

"You made dinner?" Hermione couldn't stop herself from asking, and Severus snorted, opening his eyes, though only half way.

"That is generally what I do around supper time, yes."

"Git."

"You're welcome."

His eyelids drooped, overcome with fatigue. Hermione bent down to kiss him and nuzzled her nose affectionately against his cheek.

"Thank you. You're awfully sweet. Who would have thought?"

"I am not," came his feeble, annoyed growl that she was grateful for; she couldn't help but snicker.

"Yes, you are, you difficult sod." Severus didn't retort and kept his eyes shut. Hermione yearned to ask him about joining her for dinner but quickly accepted that that just wasn't to be tonight. "All right, I'll let you sleep a while. I also need to run back out and get us some groceries."

"I took care of that," he mumbled, and Hermione jerked when she started to rise from the couch.

"What?"

"While you were out..."

"Severus! You weren't supposed to—"

"Quit bossing and fussing, would you? You sound like my mother."

Despite the fact that he wasn't looking, Hermione placed her hands on her hips anyhow and stared him down. "I'm not trying to be your mother. You just can't be doing too much yet, Sev—"

"Go eat and let me sleep."

"Ugh. You're infuriating!"

"Takes one to know one..."

Hermione wanted to stay angry but that notion faded rather fast. Sighing dramatically, she let her lips brush his forehead before making her way out of the room.

"Crooks might come back in. Feel free to kick him out again."

"He's fine. I'm sure he considers the place his already."

"I'm sure you're right."

"That was strange," he murmured, more to himself than to her, but she caught it before exiting the room.

"What? Your reaction to Crooks?"

"Mmm. My tonic always worked in the past. I brew it myself..."

Hermione's shoulders caved, feeling bad for him, though she was glad his eyes were shut so he couldn't see her look of empathy. "The venom's weakened your immune system, love. It's going to take some time to get your health back up to where it should be."

"Right..."

When he didn't say anything else, Hermione spoke up swiftly, wanting to interrupt the unsettling quietude that had fallen upon the room. "_Time_, Severus," she insisted. "That's all this is. You'll get better."

Hermione figured the conversation was over, but as she turned away to head into the kitchen, Severus called out unexpectedly, in a soft but almost nervous whisper, "And if I don't?"

Hermione felt her entire body sinking into the floor with those defining words. She quickly shook off her feelings of dread, however, especially when she noticed that the man's eyes had reopened and were peering over at her, waiting on her reply.

"_You will_, Severus. Stop being a downer and go back to sleep. I'll wake you in a bit."

Severus made an audible noise but then closed his eyes without much hesitation. His head rolled sideways, and he didn't say another word. Hermione lingered in the hallway a moment and soon detected faint snoring.

_Poor man_, she bemoaned, waving her head back and forth as she momentarily watched him sleep.

Then she felt a paw swipe her leg and found Crookshanks at her feet, looking up at her somewhat timidly. Hermione reached down and affectionately scratched his head.

"Keep an eye on him, Crooks, all right? But not too close."

The cat meowed accordingly and waved his fluffy tail in obedience. He scurried back into the room and hopped back onto the sofa, taking a comfortable seat in a little nook between Severus's torso and propped up knees. The wizard didn't stir, continuing to doze without issue.

A whiff of the delicious meal that awaited Hermione trickled down the hallway, egging her legs to move. She headed into the kitchen, surprised at how earthy and soft that part of the house was, but didn't waste much time inspecting her surroundings. She was far too hungry and greedily consumed the meal her lover had prepared for her alone.

* * *

Hermione made quite a few discoveries in her first days at Spinner's End, starting with Severus's first indulgence: his extensive Dark Arts collection. He showered her with all manner of books that the Ministry had banned or burned, and Hermione found that her reaction to them was better than she would have expected.

"The only thing that makes me nervous, Severus, is what the Ministry would do to you if they ever discovered this place."

They were in Severus's extensive library on the first floor, a charming and impressive sight. Thousands upon thousands of books were stacked on book cases that reached the ceiling and were offset by a comfortable setting of dark, refined furnishings, and an enlarged, elegant-looking fireplace. It was quite homey and Hermione instantly fell in love with it, just as she suspected she would.

"It's so you," she had snickered at the discovery, but it was the truth. It echoed of Severus; his imprint was carved all over the place. And she loved it.

The large room had an additional host of protective enchantments, too, showcasing the wizard's severe paranoia; but to Hermione, it brought relief. She thought it more than an intelligent precaution on his part.

"They would most likely tear their own flesh if they ever tried to get in here, so there's no need to fret," Severus reassured her lightly.

Hermione surveyed Severus over a large Dark Arts illustration book she had found. The pictures were a bit too grotesque to her liking but admittedly somewhat fascinating at the same time.

Severus was seated in a chair near the fireplace and reading a book about various Potions elixirs, squinting over the page he was on and mumbling along with the words. Hermione had nearly forgotten that beautiful quirk of his, and the sight of it brought an instant smile to her face.

"I don't even want to know what enchantments you've placed on this library, in that case."

Severus snorted. "In other words, you _do_ want to know."

"It's all right; some other time." She nodded towards her book. "I'm a bit preoccupied with this at the moment."

There were several illustrations of Dark Arts mutilation and evil-looking creatures. It was disturbing, yes, but Hermione couldn't quite understand why it had ever been banned. She equated it to a very scary children's book, but that was all.

Severus laid his book down in his lap and regarded her casual, curled up repose on a leather sofa a few feet away. "I'm surprised you've lasted looking at that as long as you have."

"So am I."

"I've got several more if you're interested."

"Do you have some wicked fascination with torture? Is that where that elusive part of your personality stems from?" She paused, blushing a little at the devilish smirk he returned by way of response. "Scratch that. That was a foolish question. You torture yourself more than anyone I know. I should have known."

Severus rolled his eyes and returned to his book, his limp hair falling forward around his pale cheeks and pointed nose. Hermione was livened to see Severus relatively comfortable today. Nights were proving restless for him, and he wasn't averaging much sleep at all on account of all sorts of pain and discomfort that plagued him not just nightly but throughout the day.

These symptoms were relatively new to Hermione, though hardly surprising. New inflictions or strange changes were occurring with Severus's condition almost daily. Hermione was sure if they didn't find a cure soon Severus might just give up hope. It was affecting his attitude more and more, so any kind of light conversation Hermione could prod out of him was worth the invested time and care to her. Today, he had been in relatively good spirits, and Hermione could only hope it would last.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he muttered under his breath at her remark about his self-castigating nature.

"Of course you do."

"Haven't I earned it?"

"No," she stated flatly.

Crookshanks jumped onto Severus's lap, distracting him with a demanding swat to be petted. Severus indulged the feline for a moment as Hermione watched. Then he mentioned something she wasn't prepared for.

"You never told me how it went."

"I'm sorry?"

Severus glanced over at her, his face rather serene. "Your parents... Did you see them? Are they all right?"

Hermione cast her book aside and stared intently, her face changing before his eyes. It was definitely worrisome, and his brow furrowed as she proceeded to relay to him where her parents were at the present time.

"They just upped and left. That's not like them. I know they've talked about visiting Australia for years, but to pack up on a whim and move? That's not my parents. I... I'm afraid I may have done more damage to them than I thought."

"Nonsense."

Hermione scrutinized the dark wizard through confused, narrowed eyes. "Why do you say that?"

"Obliviation has all sorts of side effects, Hermione. It doesn't mean _you_ necessarily altered their personalities. You withdrew memories; flashbacks of the only child they have. Without you in the picture, of course their personalities aren't going to be as they were. They have no children to consider. Their lives are free to do as they please. I don't say that to hurt you, my dear, just to help you make sense of the situation."

"But what if I..."

"No, Hermione. Don't doubt yourself. You're a highly skilled witch. If it were Potter or Weasley, we'd be having a much more serious discussion about this."

Hermione tried to scowl reprimandingly, but her eyes were too playful to be taken seriously. And Severus was game, giving her a light simper that was relieving to see after everything they had been through in recent weeks.

"When you're well, can we..."

Hermione wasn't sure if she should be talking so much about the future right now; not with Severus's pending hearing and health problems looming in the distance, ever present and uncertain, but the words had escaped her before she could stop them. Severus didn't come back at her with a morbid remark about speaking on such things either. Instead, he surprised her by nodding affirmatively.

"Of course. My promise still stands, Hermione. I'll see what I can do."

It was a small gesture, but it made her feel enormously better. Hermione rose from the couch where she was perched and crossed the short gap between them. She bent down to embrace him around the neck, burying her face in all of his long hair.

"Thank you."

Severus reacted by kissing her cheek. "Anything to keep you..."

"Oh, stop it."

Hermione unlocked her arms and crouched down in front of him, staring up at his twitching mouth and newly pensive expression. He gathered one of her hands in both of his, encasing it with warmth, and proceeded to speak his mind.

"I know how difficult this all must be for you, Hermione... I haven't given you much in return for everything you've done—"

"What?"

"It's true." His eyes darted to her hand in his, his mouth seemingly fumbling with what to say. Finally, after an excruciating pause, he met her eyes, but the blackness therein was soulless and without much hope. "As I've said before, you didn't sign up to take care of an old man. This isn't what you should be doing with your life."

Hermione felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Her breath stalled, and she found herself staring up at the man she loved with freshly forlorn eyes.

"Severus, why would you say something like that—"

"Because you're young and have a whole host of opportunities ahead of you, Hermione. You... You've been wasting your valuable time on me these last several weeks—don't think I don't know—and I don't like seeing you do that. You deserve better... You deserve someone who will take care of you. Someone," he struggled to get his next words out, "_younger_, or at least _healthier_, who can pamper you, take you places, give you anything you could possibly want—"

"Severus, _please stop_—"

"You deserve to be taken care of, Hermione," he emphasized quietly, ignoring her interruption. That happy demeanor had changed so drastically that Hermione hardly knew what to make of it, only that his sad words were like receiving a punch repeatedly to the stomach. "A man should take care of you. It shouldn't be the other way around, and I... I can barely take care of myself..."

Severus's head slumped and he looked away from her, his mouth shutting, resolved and dejected. "Severus, enough." Hermione seized one side of his face and rubbed it gently. "I've made my choice. I made that decision long ago, well before you were bitten and taken sick. I'm not the type of person who runs in the opposite direction when the going gets tough."

"But you deserve to be well looked after," Severus insisted with as much feeling as he could, a bit of frustration seeping through his cracked voice.

It wounded Hermione to hear that vulnerability again. "Severus, you've put a roof over my head. You invited me into your life and into your home. Doesn't that count for _something?_"

"But I - I asked you to come... And it was highly selfish of me—"

"No, it wasn't! It was kind, it was considerate, it was what I wanted and I told you that."

"But how can you justify_ this_ as the sort of life a young woman like you should have? Taking care of _me_ when you could be out having fun and enjoying your life, which is what you _should_ be doing in light of everything you've gone through?"

Hermione hushed him with a low murmur and laid a comforting hand on his thigh and the other on his arm. She could see his free hand trembling a little, and that gravely concerned her.

"You're being very unreasonable, you know what?"

"Pardon?"

"If our roles were reversed, you'd be looking after me, wouldn't you? And don't give me a false answer or tell me that 'that isn't fair,' because we both know the truth." She halted speaking to press his arm and thigh. "I'm taking care of you because I love you, Severus. Now stop talking nonsense or I'll cast a bunch of these books right on top of your head."

"But it isn't fair," he snarled, his breathing a little strained. "This isn't fair to you—"

"_I'll_ determine what's fair and unfair when it comes to my own life, all right? And you aren't going to get rid of me by moping like this. You're just going to force me to tell you how ridiculously adorable you are, so you might as well stop."

Hermione's mouth curled into a smile when she heard him grumble something disapprovingly under his breath. She suspected he was also probably mortified, judging by how red he had gone in the face.

"Will you ever take anything I say under serious consideration?" he hissed after a moment.

Hermione's smile broadened and she shook her head decidedly. "Nope."

"Insufferable..."

"I know." She inched closer, leaning over his legs. "But you know you love it. It's one of my many remarkable qualities."

Severus snorted. "You're far too sure of what I think."

"Indeed, I am; but then, I know you pretty damn well at this point."

Severus regarded her soberly again. "Hermione, I mean it. You should—" but he was interrupted by Hermione, who reached out and forced a hand over his lips.

"Quiet, you. When you get well, I'll be here, and if you..." Hermione was caught on her words but eventually forced them out, keeping her declaration steady, "If you wouldn't get well, I'll _still_ be here. And you know why that is, Severus, so let's not discuss this anymore, all right? Let's take things one day at a time."

Hermione could tell Severus didn't want to concede, but he was also tired, and not entirely up for arguing the matter to death. "Fine, you win this round," he decided with an irritable growl.

"Good!" Hermione willingly smiled back, and the sight of her warm countenance had an immediate effect on Severus's mood, which began to soften. "I need to write Harry. We need to get together before the week's out."

Severus made another disgruntled noise that made Hermione giggle before she got to her feet, kissed the top of his head, and returned to her book without another word. Severus began to read again, too, though it was a halfhearted effort. He was disappointed by not getting Hermione to see what he thought to be reason, but his inner self was privately relieved that she hadn't taken him up on his suggestion that she move on, that she reconsider the possibility that she deserved better.

For the moment, Hermione hadn't grown tired of him and had no plans to go somewhere else. Severus willingly clung to that small glimmer of hope that her regard wouldn't change, because if it did...

_Then what shall I do?_

* * *

**A/N #2: There's a beautiful commissioned piece I've been wanting to share with you for some time but decided to wait until this point in the story, mainly because the artwork depicts the scene in the library that happened in this chapter. It's by the wonderfully talented saniika and titled "Hard to speak." The link is on my Profile page. Be sure to check it out! It captures this moment in a very moving way, I think.  
**

**Onward...  
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	48. Making Plans

**A/N: Thanks so much for the birthday wishes and reviews on the last chapter! :) A couple important conversations in this one, and I purposely kept certain material "on site" because I thought it would be too much of a hassle to jump websites right in the middle of a chapter.  
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**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 48: Making Plans**

"Harry wants to pay a visit, Severus."

"How delightful," he sneered over that morning's _Daily Prophet_.

Hermione rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh and laced one leg over the other in front of the fireplace in Severus's sitting room. She was getting quite comfortable at Spinner's End, even though there were parts of it she still hadn't seen.

Hermione looked over the response she had received to her original owl, asking Harry to drop by to discuss Severus's hearing. He readily agreed, claiming he also "had some news for them," but Hermione knew Severus would be far less inclined to allow Harry—or anyone—into his private dwelling.

"I can meet him elsewhere if you'd prefer?" she suggested, but judging by Severus's understated reaction, she was happy to find that wouldn't be the case.

"If it's me you will be discussing, and my life you're planning to sabotage in the coming days, I should be present, shouldn't I?"

"That wasn't my question."

Severus grumbled under his breath and hid his face behind the paper. "Do as you wish."

"So Harry can come then?"

"If he must."

"You're infuriating. Just give me a straight answer, Severus. If you don't want him here, he won't come. This is your home."

Severus's newspaper fell back, showcasing his face, and there was a gentleness that emerged and replaced the trademark scowl. "This is your place as much as mine, Hermione," he stated softly. "You have the right to invite people here if you wish. Just give me fair warning so I can make myself scarce if I have to."

His eyes quickly averted back to his newspaper, which Hermione found captivating, and her smile widened in response. "Severus, I've only been here a few days..."

"What does that matter?"

Hermione waited a moment, then crossed the room to sit in his lap. Looping her arms about his neck, she kissed him on the lips.

"I don't want to overstep my boundaries just yet."

Severus's hooked nose scrunched up. "What? Why?"

"It's your home. It isn't mine. And I have no desire to make you uncomfortable. You need to rest and recoup and I don't want to make things stressful for you."

This time, it was Severus who rolled his eyes. "You're insane. Would you take me at my word?"

"But..."

"I know this place doesn't feel like home to you. I understand that. It's hardly a befitting home for me."

"That's not what I meant, Sev—"

"And I want you to feel as comfortable here as can be. If you want to have Potter come by, you have my permission, if that's what you seek. But you don't need it."

Hermione surveyed him for a long moment before shaking her head, impressed. "Merlin, you've come a long way..."

Severus leaned his head against hers, his lips curling into a smile. "Don't be so sure of that."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sure you have a ton of skeletons in your closest I still don't know about."

Severus shrugged. "So have a look around."

Hermione narrowed her eyes skeptically. "That feels like trespassing."

"Since when has _that_ ever been a concern of yours? Or of your curious friends, for that matter?"

"Only recently."

"I see."

Hermione frowned slightly. "It doesn't feel right."

"I'm giving you permission, Hermione."

"Is this a nasty trick of yours?"

"No."

"You answered that way too quickly."

"I think my paranoia is rubbing off on you."

"Probably. I've said many times that you're a bad influence on me."

"This is true."

Hermione tugged on his neck and kissed the tip of his nose. "Which is all the more reason to be here."

Severus returned her affection with a kiss of his own before hissing at her. "Answer Potter's bloody owl and leave me alone. I haven't had a moment to myself all morning."

"Fine." Hermione rose from Severus's lap and looked him over. "You're due to take your tonics soon. Don't forget."

Severus gave a defiant growl but said nothing in return, leaving Hermione to snicker and mosey away into the kitchen, taking Harry's owl with her. The only company that remained was Crookshanks, who curled up at his master's feet without a sound, and the two paid each other little mind as they enjoyed some solitude together.

* * *

"Here's a good one," Severus sneered, holding the owl up at the kitchen table while Hermione raided Severus's fridge for something to eat. "'Master Snape, I hope you rot in some place far scarier than Hell, if it exists, because Hell is too good for an evil man like you. Sincerely, Mary Weathertop, age twelve.'"

"_What?_"

Hermione reared around and gaped at him. Severus returned her shocked expression with a wicked smirk.

"I ought to send a proper owl to little Miss Mary's parents with tips on how to better rear their child, starting with a belt and a bar of soap."

"I can't believe a parent would let their child write something so awful!"

Severus arched an eyebrow. "I'm not just anyone, Hermione, remember?"

"That's horrible parenting!" Hermione challenged, her face flushing red. "And despicable manners at that! It makes me sick!"

Severus shrugged. He had been nonchalant about every nasty owl he had received and opened thus far, not showing much of any emotion except for a defiant comment or two. But Hermione wasn't convinced.

The letters were cruel, verbally abusive, and disturbing; all of a threatening nature. Hermione was finding herself more and more jaded by the vindictive words she kept hearing over and over. She knew Severus couldn't be as cool about this as he appeared to be and figured it was probably for her sake that he was putting on the act of not giving a damn.

"Listen to this." Severus cleared his throat. "'Severus Snape, you are, without a doubt, a foul, beastly, devilish abomination. I hope they lock you away in Azkaban the rest of your days for your crimes to humanity, and for what you did to the great and noble Albus Dumbledore, you wretched scum. You will pay for your treachery, your deceit, your unpardonable wrongdoing. And the wizarding world will all be watching with unfailing delight when justice is done upon you. Don't expect mercy or forgiveness, not in this life or the next.'"

The owl Severus held was suddenly whisked from his hand into the air, where it promptly caught fire. Its leftover contents spilled onto the table in a pile of ash.

Severus glanced over at Hermione, whose wand was raised with a deeply hurt expression plastered across her face. "Sorry," she declared acidly, "I thought that deserved a proper send off."

"Hermione..."

Hermione ignored the look Severus was giving her and sat down across from him. She scanned that morning's _Daily Prophet_ with an angry scowl.

"The press and the public are having a field day again about my statement."

Severus, starting to open another owl, stopped to scrutinize her. "I told you not to do it."

"Oh, I don't regret it in the least. I'm just amazed, with the war finally over, that the _Prophet_ can't find more pressing matters to address." Hermione threw up the paper and showed Severus the front page. "I mean, _honestly!_"

A moving black and white photograph of Hermione stared at Severus from across the table. Above it, in big, bold letters, read a title that made his skin crawl: _Hermione Granger declares love for Dumbledore's assassin. Friends and family, including Harry Potter, say they are 'crushed and disappointed' in Granger's serious lapse of judgment._

Severus quickly looked away from the paper. "The _Prophet_ has nothing else to discuss now that the Dark Lord's gone, Hermione. I'm the new antagonist. If it wasn't me, it would be someone else."

"That's no excuse!"

"Not really, no, but that's the human psyche."

"What, are you a sociologist now?"

Severus eyed her curiously. "What's that?"

"Never mind." Hermione studied the front page again with severe disappointment. "Vultures..."

Severus watched Hermione silently without her awareness. Every so often, she sighed or shook her head, but overall she remained exceedingly put out by whatever was being insinuated in the paper.

Finally, Severus rose from his chair and walked over to her, leaning down to purr in her ear, "Stop." She could feel Severus's hot breaths and helplessly leaned into him, her emotions getting the better of her.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, not sure what else to say.

"Why?" He inhaled her soft scent and planted a kiss on her head. "You have every right to be angry."

"I hate what they're saying, Severus," she muttered, her voice mangled by pain and rage. "I hate them. I want to curse them all."

"That wouldn't be wise, my dear. Besides, I can think of a few things that might make it all better..."

Hermione inhaled sharply when one of Severus's warm hands slid down her front, beneath her cotton shirt, towards her abdomen. She closed her eyes, stilling, inclined towards him, and, slowly but surely, a small smile crept across her face.

Whatever heavy burdens lay in Hermione's heart lifted a little, allowing her to laugh. Heated, supple lips tickled their way down her neck, and Hermione gave into Severus's motives with a soft moan.

Hermione was pulled to her feet with her eyes closed, and her head turned to kiss Severus passionately, achingly, desperate for more. She was surprised when Severus managed to lift her off her feet and carry her to the kitchen counter. He stumbled a little, and it wasn't the most graceful move, but Hermione was too wrapped up in kissing him to care.

As they snogged more excitedly, Severus's hands glided down Hermione's front, easily entering the front of her flannel pants. Hermione gasped into his mouth and felt his own weave into a delicate smirk.

"I like it when you don't wear knickers."

Hermione tittered breathlessly. "You threw them off last night, remember?"

"Mmm. That's right, I did."

Hermione arched her back when his thumb gently rubbed at her nub. Soon his two fingers were massaging her folds, and she instinctively spread her legs further apart. She kissed Severus in earnest, encouraging him to keep going. Those two magical fingers finally moved inside her, just as his tongue simultaneously slid into her mouth, and Hermione gasped at both. She threw her hands around Severus's neck and clutched onto clumps of his hair.

A deep moan of his own sealed the matter, and Hermione soon felt her lower body pulsating against his hand as their lips continued to massage one another's. Pushing her back against the cabinets, Severus stroked over her inner thigh with his free hand as he fondled her with the other.

Hermione pulled back to look deep into his eyes. His breathing was as hot and heavy as her own, and he was just as turned on. Trying to stay focused, Hermione slid her arms down Severus's back to pull his own pajama bottoms down as far as she could, just below his rump, and guided her hands around to touch his hard length. She tugged ever so gently, and his growl of a response set her on fire.

Giving him a sly grin, she began to lovingly stroke him, massaging her fingers up and down the length of him, every move deliberate and slow. She saw it happening. His pupils dilated, losing their focus and strength. It was that loss of control again, and Hermione wanted to see it dissipate, and have him come for her.

"Oh, god..." he groaned fiercely, soon losing sense of how he was trying to pleasure her.

His fingers stopped groping, overtaken by Hermione's wonderous stimulation of every nerve, of how enthralling it felt to have the witch's hand holding him in the warmth of her palm. Severus ceased kissing her altogether and threw his head back, echoing several wonderfully deep moans and sighs of absolute pleasure.

Hermione quickly lost sense of herself, too, even now that she held him in her grasp, with absolute power over the man and the situation. "That's it," she encouraged with an arousal of her own, wrapping an arm around his neck to keep him still. She circled his tip with one finger, and Severus writhed at her touch. "That's it, love."

Severus buckled and inhaled, his chest heaved excitedly, and his head fell back further as his throat made several ferocious snarls and sounds of exhilaration. "Uhh... Her...mione... Uhh!"

"That's it, Severus. Come for me."

Severus's arms breached the cabinets with a loud thud, trembling around her as she egged him onward, bringing him closer and closer to climax. It was quite a beautiful sight, watching her dark lover in the throes of ecstasy. She was warmed and wet with a strong ache and want of her own, for him. But she wanted to see him lose the battle, to lose himself, to give himself over to her completely. And he did.

"I - I can't..." he rasped, desperate and unhinged. "I won't..."

"Come for me, Severus," she baited, feeling him growing around her hand, sensing the anticipation of the oncoming thrust. "That's it. Come for me, love."

"_UHH!_"

Severus's hands pounded the cabinets, his back dipped, he thrust himself against her, and came with a vengeance. Hermione watched and waited, loving every second of it, as Severus's body stood frozen in the midst of sexual bliss.

It took a minute or two for Severus to catch his breath, but finally he slowly raised his head, met by Hermione's triumphant smile. She brought herself close to his face.

"How was that?" she purred happily.

"Bloody fantastic," he half wheezed, half groaned, brushing a few curls away from Hermione's face to thank her properly. He kissed her lips and trembled.

"I think we both needed that," she whispered, ginning against his mouth.

"But you..."

Severus peered down at Hermione. Her legs were propped up, straddled, and her pants were evidently soaked through. His nostrils flared and he locked eyes with her. Hermione felt a tingle make its way down her spine and nearly shivered on the spot.

"My apologies. I should finish what I started."

Hermione's voice caught in her throat. "Please do," she encouraged, anxious.

Severus leaned in to kiss her a few times, his hands progressing down over her breasts to her pants, which he promptly removed. His fingers drew inside her again, and Hermione grunted, pressed closer, and wrapped her legs around his waist.

He gave her a fantastic orgasm—one that didn't take all that long—and Hermione shuddered when the act was through, overwhelmed and warmed and at harmony with the world. _Merlin, yes! YES!_

But Severus wasn't satisfied, nor finished, and after snogging and hugging and caressing her a great deal more, Hermione found her head and back being pounded against the cabinets behind her, her cries loud and desperate, which her lover matched. They thrust and collided into one another in a relentless, harrowing pursuit and came again just as powerfully as before, releasing all the inner tensions and frustrations that that morning had brought.

There were more trials that lay ahead, Hermione knew in the back of her mind, but, for the moment, she was wrapped up in their wonderful morning escapade. It was a very welcoming distraction needed by both.

* * *

"Ginny!" The sight of the redhead emerging from Severus's fireplace along with Harry made her jolt with surprise.

"Hey, Hermione. I'm sorry that this is so unexpected." She sounded rather nervous, especially for her, and Hermione angled her head curiously. "I - I begged Harry to let me come. You don't mind, do you?"

Hermione hadn't seen her friend since the final battle, and her response was swift and answered with a strong hug. Ginny's anxiety subsided a little at Hermione's kind dose of friendship. Hermione embraced Harry, too. The couple stepped out of the fireplace, which Hermione had given them the latest password to, to take in the former Headmaster's quarters.

"Wow, impressive," Harry stated, soaking in the place with an approving look of wonder.

Ginny, however, was staring cautiously over Hermione's shoulder at a leather chair near the wall, where the dark form of Severus lurked somewhat in shadow, quiet and unmoving. Hermione saw her friend stiffen and take Harry by the arm.

"It's all right, Gin," Harry tried to reassure her under his breath, taking hold of her hand. "I told you before, it's all right..."

Hermione hadn't even begun to unravel how the Weasley girl might react to seeing Severus. After all, she didn't know the circumstances surrounding what Ginny had endured under Severus's reign as Headmaster only two months ago. She gazed at her friend apprehensively, not really sure what to say.

"I... Um, it's all right, Gin—" Hermione started to say before Severus's deep voice interrupted.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley."

It wasn't hostile, it wasn't pleasant, but it was still a greeting, nonetheless. Ginny's tension didn't ease, but she did force an awkward nod in return; she still held tight to Harry's hand, however.

"Hello, sir," Harry greeted in a much more casual manner. Hermione was astonished at how different it was from the way he used to regard or address the professor, and it was quite wonderful and reassuring to see.

"Have a seat." Severus motioned to a couch nearby. "I'm sure you and Hermione have much to discuss."

"So do you, Severus," Hermione shot back, giving him a playful smirk that Ginny found more than a tad astounding, "so don't be coy."

"_'Severus'?_" Ginny whispered to Harry, too low for them to hear, or so she thought, until Severus responded in a low drawl that startled her.

"Yes, Miss Weasley. That _is_ my name."

Hermione shot him a chastising glare and motioned for the two Gryffindors to sit down. Taking a seat in a chair catty-corner to Severus, Hermione reached out and took possession of his hand. She expected him to possibly flinch or shrink away from such a public display and was gladdened when he did neither. Severus did, however, stare her two friends down unreservedly, scrutinizing them with those penetrating eyes of his that, Hermione suspected, probably weren't putting her friends at ease one bit.

"Thanks for coming," Hermione offered as a starting point.

Harry regarded her seriously and spoke up. "There's been a lot of talk about the hearing... I— Have you two been following the _Prophet?_"

Severus didn't move, but Hermione shook her head. "Not exactly, no. We'll read the headlines and such, but generally we try to steer clear of what's being written in the papers. It just upsets us."

"I understand."

Hermione bit her lip, preparing herself mentally for the worse. "What are they saying?"

Harry looked from Hermione to Severus, his green eyes appearing rather cautious about what he was about to reveal. "They're saying that this hearing is rigged, that the Wizengamot has already made up their minds and are prepared to pass sentence..."

"To send him to Azakaban?" Hermione finished, breathless.

Harry slowly nodded his answer with a clenched jaw. "They supposedly want to send you to prison, sir, to await a proper trial..."

Severus still didn't acknowledge Harry's information, only stared without reaction. Hermione tried to squeeze his hand discreetly.

"What about Kingsley? He - He's going to oversee Severus's hearing, isn't he?"

"Yes. The Minister's already received numerous threats to his life if he doesn't make the 'right choice' though."

Hermione couldn't help but grate her teeth. "Of course they'd do that! It's typical of the public to act like a bunch of animals rather than open-minded adults! I'd expect nothing less!"

"Yes, well," Harry shifted uneasily, "I won't downplay to you both that the public's reaction to all of this is of major concern. Kingsley's worried about security breaches. He thinks things might even turn violent the moment you step into the Ministry, Professor. He's heightened security, but he's still worried.

"The council, I think, has been frightened into submission by the drama and all of the hype surrounding your case. Apparently, they've all received threats, too, of having their loved ones cursed if they don't lock you away..."

Neither Severus, nor Hermione, said anything for a while. Hermione's heart was now pounding in her chest, and with the hearing drawing very near, only days away, she was becoming more and more frightened. The unfortunate news Harry had now shared only made matters worse.

Hermione turned to Severus, who gazed back at her without a word, and the silent exchange that passed between them was a warm one that both Harry and Ginny caught. Ginny was perceivably stunned, Harry less so, but seeing their friend eying the professor so lovingly was, indeed, a very strange turn of events for the redhead.

Hermione turned back to Harry with a devastated sort of expression that her voice matched. "He's not the enemy... They're angry with the wrong man, Harry..."

A muscle in Harry's jaw twitched. "I know," he whispered with moving understanding.

Harry noticed Severus's subtly altered demeanor. He was no longer entirely preserved; there was a defeat perceivable in his black eyes and a frown that spoke to Harry of what was surely to be the grave outcome from all of this. To Harry's agitation, Severus finally broke eye contact and peered at the ground, looking alarmingly fragile. It was a sight Ginny had never seen before either, though Harry had seen that feebleness when the professor was in hospital; but Ginny hadn't, and it was startling to see this side of Severus Snape for the first time.

"I've been thinking," Harry pressed as gently as possible, "that it would, perhaps, be best and to your advantage, sir, to show the council the memories you gave me. That way they can see for themselves how it really happened, what you actually did for the Order and for Dumbledore and for... For me."

Severus's eyes shifted, and both Harry and Hermione could tell he wasn't at all thrilled by that idea. "I doubt that will convince them, Potter," he grumbled irritably. "Memories can be tampered with."

"Well, as I understand it, you may be administered Veritaserum. If we show them the memories and they question you on any of it, they'll know you aren't lying, and that the memories aren't fixed."

"It's not that simple, Potter."

"I know it isn't, sir, but I think it's the best alibi you've got. I don't see any way around it. Unless you've thought of something better that I'm not aware of?"

Hermione waited for Severus to reply, but he didn't, so she piped up with a sigh, "Unfortunately, we haven't been able to come up with much. They won't allow him to use Dumbledore's portrait, which I find to be absolute ludicrous."

"On what grounds?"

Hermione grumbled, "Because he's dead. Therefore, nothing he says can be taken as 'credible evidence.'"

Harry snorted. "You're joking."

"I wish... Severus can obviously give testimony to everything he did, but we're both worried that it won't be enough."

"_It should be_," Harry insisted with feeling, sounding just as frustrated as they both felt. "With your permission, Professor, I'd very much like to... To be a witness in your defense, if you'll allow me?"

Hermione glanced at Severus and could detect the shock hidden behind the depths of his eyes. His mouth opened, but then closed again, telling her that he was finding it difficult to reply to such a supportive proposal. Hermione inadvertently pressed his hand and offered him her own words of encouragement.

"And I'd like to be a witness to your defense, too." When Severus turned to her, her smile extended and she nodded towards Harry. "We've been discussing the matter via written correspondence all week long. You need as many allies at your defense as you can, Severus. You'll have both of us."

Severus cleared his throat. "But... You do realize, Potter, that you and Hermione will come under considerable scrutiny for defending me?"

"We're well aware of that, sir."

Severus shot Hermione a severe glare. "And that there will be nothing I can do to prevent the press and the public from coming after you?"

"Severus, they've already come after me. Do you think I'm going to let them stop me?"

Harry smirked, and Hermione showed them both a triumphant smile. Ginny was the only one who sat quietly without much emotional reaction on her freckled face.

"Hermione, I..." Severus struggled to get his words out. "I think this is highly dangerous what you both gambling on doing—"

"Severus, we think it best that you perhaps say as little as possible at the hearing. If Harry or I can speak for you, it might go over better with the council."

At this, Severus growled, affronted. "I'm perfectly capable of defending myself."

"We know you are," Hermione returned patiently, "but you can't deny, Severus, that it might go over _a lot_ easier if _we_ tell them everything rather than you. The council is jaded in their opinions already, and the media and the public have fueled the fire with how everyone perceives you now. You standing up there all by yourself and attempting to defend your character against a bunch of narrow-minded bigots is suicide. _You need us_, Severus. _We_ should be the ones to defend your character. It shouldn't be left up to you to convince others of what will surely take a great deal more than just you to persuade them of who you really are. You disguised yourself from everyone. They should know that others actually know the truth, have a glimpse into the real you, and who better than to tell and show them that than Harry and I?"

There was a long interlude of silence that followed Hermione's sentiments, with Severus wrestling internally with what was at stake, and not just for himself. He finally sighed heavily and looked away from them all in defeat, staring intently off at the far corner of the room. Hermione knew he didn't agree to this plan in the least but couldn't configure a more valid argument to undermine hers.

When the quietude was finally broken after several minutes, it wasn't by Hermione or Harry, but by an unexpected, hushed, and timid-sounding Ginny. "Sir, I - I saw the memories," she piped up, causing everyone to turn their attention to her, including Severus. "I know that doesn't automatically mean that we know all the circumstances of what went on behind the scenes for you, but... Showing them to the council members might help persuade them; make them see reason."

"Is that so?" Severus returned with a low murmur.

Hermione was surprised to see Ginny rear back a little. The young redhead had always been a spitfire and fearless, but, in Severus's presence, she was abnormally skittish and unsure. Hermione feared that what she had experienced at Hogwarts was much worse than she realized. She eyed Severus out of the corner of her eye and nudged him with her hand, egging him to speak.

"Miss Weasley," Severus whispered, his voice somewhat strained, "I believe you have something you'd like to say to me."

Ginny drew back a little, caught off her guard, and darted her eyes about the room momentarily. It took her a minute or two to compose her reply, but when she did, her voice was quiet, yet tense, and, to Hermione, sounded very unlike her.

"Sir, I... I understand what you've endured must have been incredibly difficult and painful to withstand; I can't imagine what you've seen and gone through, working for _him_, but that doesn't make what you did to us—_to me_—any less painful, or excusable."

Ginny paused to take a deep breath before forcing herself to meet the man's dark eyes. "You tortured us, Professor... We were reprimanded many times unnecessarily, and your punishments weren't only severe, they were cruel. It - It wasn't justified. None of it was. I find it difficult to forgive you for what you did to me and my friends. It's something I'm sure that I'll struggle with for a long time to come..."

Ginny's eyes were growing redder, and Hermione was shaken by the tears in the young witch's eyes. Ginny hardly ever cried, much like Harry, and the sight was unhinging.

"You may have been a spy," she continued faintly, "you may have been on our side, you may have not wanted to do what you did, but you_ did_ do it, sir. You tormented the students. That doesn't simply all wash away now that we've learned what side you were on. _It still happened._ And I'll have emotional scars from what occurred last year for a very long time. Many will. And you have a direct hand in that...

"I'm sorry for what you went through, Professor. I really am. But it doesn't alter what you did to me, to my friends, or to the school... Just as you suffered, _so did we_, and at _your_ hands. I can only hope, in time, you'll feel some remorse for what you did to us, but, at the moment, I'm having a difficult time believing you care at all."

No one said anything right away once Ginny was through. Harry sort of drew back and waited patiently for Severus's response, and Hermione was a little too daunted by her friend's remarks to say anything at all. She held tight to Severus's hand, however, and waited along with Harry for him to answer to Ginny's harsh words.

Severus's silence was constraining to her. He blinked a few times, never diverting his focus, and then leaned forward in his chair with a stringent expression meant only for the youngest Weasley member.

"I understand," he stated rather gently, which visibly took Ginny aback to receive. "You have every right to feel as you do, Miss Weasley. And you are correct: my personal circumstances do not change what was done to you and to others; it doesn't undo what you were unjustly put through, along with your peers, and, for that, Miss Weasley, I apologize. You can rebut my apology if you wish. I don't expect anyone's forgiveness, including yours.

"You should know my personal sentiments about what happened last year. You deserve that much. I _did_ genuinely despise what I did to you and your friends, Miss Weasley. As strange as I'm sure this may sound to you, it's not in my nature to physically torture or curse anyone, including my students. I find it just as repulsive and debilitating as you and my colleagues do, only I still took part in it. They didn't.

"I stepped in as often as I could to reprimand you myself because I knew the discipline you would receive from either of the Carrows would be far worse. I think that's something you can probably agree with, Miss Weasley, if forced to compare between them and myself. However, I _still_ disciplined you unjustly all the same. If I hadn't, I'd be a dead man. I did it as much to save my own skin as to stay within the Dark Lord's favor and continue to spy on him—"

"Severus," Hermione implored him softly, "that isn't entirely true—"

"And my own suffering doesn't outweigh yours." He paused to sternly glance at Hermione before his eyes returned to the cautious redhead. "I know I have inflicted a great deal of unnecessary harm in my pursuit of the Dark Lord and in my position as Headmaster. I abused the privileges of that office and have no basis, nor right, to keep it, or to return to that school in any capacity. After everything I did, I don't deserve it. You and your friends needn't worry. McGonagall is a remarkable and well suited replacement for Dumbledore. She should have the post; I was never meant to have it in the first place.

"If I could take back what I did as Headmaster, I would. Understand, however, Miss Weasley, that I cannot. Therefore, I hope you and others can move forward with your own lives and not allow what I did to you to hinder your own chances at happiness. I hope you can find the courage to heal and not let what I did to you prevent you from finding peace. I know that does you little good, but it's the only comfort I have to offer, I'm afraid."

When he was through, Severus reclined in his chair and turned his gaze to Hermione, quietly asking for her emotional support, and she offered it immediately by giving him a small, sweet smile and pressed his hand. Meanwhile, the youngest Weasley sat in silence, soaking in the man's apology—the wizard whom she had once considered to be quite evil—now offering her solace, in his own way. She was trumped and bereft of words, having not expected such.

After a time, she bowed her head respectfully and said, in a pained sort of whisper, "Thank you," which Hermione knew was about all her friend could muster at the moment.

Sensing that Severus was now quite overwrought and probably in need of some personal space, Hermione offered Harry and Ginny some tea to break the tension. She escorted them into the kitchen, away from Severus, where the three of them could converse more casually, and made a point of kissing Severus reassuringly before leaving the room.

"How is everyone?" Hermione pressed once they were all situated comfortably at the kitchen table.

Ginny brought Hermione up to speed on her family. From the sounds of it, they were coping better since Fred's death but still going through the motions of grieving. Harry broke the news about going straight into the Aurors trainee program on Kingsley's encouragement, and Ron, too, was apparently considering joining as well.

"So you won't be returning to Hogwarts then?" she asked, a bit surprised and unsure about her friend's decision.

"I debated it quite a lot," Harry confessed, taking a moment to sip his tea, "but, honestly, I'm not so sure I can return to Hogwarts... After everything that's happened, it's just... It's not the same place we left it as, 'Mione, and I've come under so much unnecessary attention now, I'm not sure I can stomach going through a whole other year of being the bloody 'hero.'"

"It's true," Ginny snickered. "You should see the amount of owls he's been getting. Fan letters and all kinds of offers—books, jobs; it's kind of frightening, actually. The attention now is even greater than it was before..."

"I'm sorry to hear it," Hermione giggled, smiling at Harry across the table.

"What about you?" he asked, eying her thoughtfully. "Given any thought to going back?"

Hermione paused to ponder his question. Truthfully, she had barely given any thought to her own academic future in light of Severus's poor health and everything he was going through. Now that the inquiry had been thrust upon her, she was a bit rattled at not having a definite answer.

"I... I don't know, really."

Harry waited a moment before leaning forward in his chair. "You don't_ have_ to go back, 'Mione. We can write our own tickets now—you, me, and Ron. You're free to pursue whatever career path you want in light of everything that's happened, you know."

"Yes, I - I'm sure you're right."

"The public knows everything you did to help me."

"Yes, well, they also know of my relationship with Severus, too, so that won't do me any favors in landing a job." She smiled halfheartedly but could tell Harry wasn't convinced.

"'Mione, I guarantee you, you wouldn't have much problem going into any avenue you wanted. Merlin knows how smart you are, you could make it happen."

Hermione's smile extended. "Thanks."

"Speaking of you and Snape," Ginny whispered, hunching over to be close to them, "there's something I need to tell you, Hermione..."

"What?" Hermione braced herself, because the way Ginny was speaking, it didn't sound hopeful.

Ginny eyed Harry first, and there was a strange sort of exchange that passed between them before she responded. "It's about that article Rita Skeeter wrote in the paper about you two."

Hermione flinched at remembering the article. "Oh? What about it?"

"Erm, well, it - it concerns the person who spoke to her about you."

"And fed her all those malicious lies?" Hermione ground her teeth. "Or else, she just took whatever they gave her and ran wild with it. One of the two."

Ginny shifted nervously. "Erm, no, Rita didn't make it up. The person who spoke to her really said all those things."

There was a considerable pause, as Hermione surveyed Ginny up and down anew. "You know who it is?" she breathed low, trying to keep her temper in check when Ginny confirmed her question by nodding. "_Who?_"

Ginny answered her question in a low, hushed tone, "It - It was Ron."

Hermione could feel a burn rushing onto her face, as if her very skin had caught fire. The apologetic looks Harry and Ginny were giving her should have helped, but they did nothing.

"Your brother is a cold-hearted bastard," she said after a moment, in a dark tone that shook them both.

"I – I know... We were both very angry with him, too. I still can't quite believe he did it. I've been begging him to confront you about it. You deserved to know it was him. I... I'm sorry he hasn't been by to tell you so himself and apologize for it."

Hermione quickly looked away, at her intertwined hands folded together on the table. "Thank you for telling me," she tried to say collectedly, but it came out cool and almost like a hiss.

"'Mione," Harry piped up carefully, "I don't think Ron's exactly in his right frame of mind right now. I think he's—"

"I don't care. He's a bastard, and I'm not sure that I can forgive him for this. The things that he said about us—about _me_—I... I can't believe he would do this to me."

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Ginny reiterated. "I really am. Mum and Dad were furious when they found out. I promised them I'd tell you today; I just wasn't comfortable about doing so in front of Snape, so..."

Hermione glanced over at her friend and attempted to soften her expression. "It's all right, Ginny. Thanks for telling me, I appreciate it."

There was an awkward silence that ensued. None of them were really sure how to carry on the conversation in light of this bad news, and Hermione's mind was consumed by it, until Ginny spoke up and tried to divert onto another topic.

"What does Snape think about what you should do?" her friend inquired curiously. "As far as school and everything?"

Hermione willed herself to forget about Ron for the moment. "We haven't really discussed it at all. We've been too preoccupied with this blasted hearing and getting him back on his feet again."

Harry's expression changed, and he eyed Hermione seriously. "How's he doing since he left St. Mungo's?"

"Better," Hermione offered with a weighty sigh, "but there hasn't been tremendous improvement. He can't walk very far, he gets tired a lot, and he still has these strange bouts where his temperament drastically changes."

Ginny's eyes flashed with concern. "He hasn't..." she hesitated, not sure if she should ask outright. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fine. It's Severus I'm worried about. He normally doesn't remember what happens when he has these weird flare ups. He only takes it out on himself, and it's horrible to watch. I'm afraid one of these days he's really going to hurt himself."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What about the tonics he's been taking? Don't they do anything?"

"They help in some regards, but not in others. Frankly, his condition is changing all the time, so it can be difficult to pinpoint one or two problems. It alters constantly."

"I'm sorry to hear it..."

"Well, Severus has been anxious to adjust them himself. I'm still hoping Augustus might come up with something better. It's rather difficult for Severus to figure these things out on his own right now. He doesn't have the energy and can't work for too long. And he's having a lot more nightmares these days..."

Harry glanced down at his half empty tea cup. "Are you?" he asked quietly. Hermione regarded him reflectively, and with a deeper frown.

"Sometimes, yes... You?"

Harry slowly nodded. "Yeah. It's getting better, but I still have my nights where I just..."

"Don't sleep much?" Harry nodded in response; it made Hermione feel quite bad, but also connected her to her friend in a way they both understood. "Severus, too. He barely sleeps anyhow, but I've noticed it's been worse than usual lately."

"Well, with this upcoming hearing, I'm not surprised."

Hermione bit her lip. "So, the council members and the Minister are _really_ being hounded that badly to lock Severus away?" Harry shot her a grave look that told her everything. She couldn't help but scowl and let out a faint growl. "Scumbags!"

"Hermione?" It was Ginny who spoke this time, and the hesitance in her voice made Hermione eye her friend curiously. "How did you... How long have you two..."

"Didn't Harry or Ron tell you?"

Ginny glanced sidelong at Harry before looking back at Hermione. "Erm, a little bit, yes. I just... I'd rather hear it from you, especially since Ron hasn't exactly been truthful about it."

Hermione propped her elbows on the table and looked at Ginny warily. She should have been accustomed to these explanations by now, but it was growing exhausting fairly quickly.

"It started in my sixth year, but not 'till closer to the end of term. Up until then, we were just friends."

"_Friends?_" Ginny arched an eyebrow, shocked, but Hermione remained neutral.

"Yes. All the months I was in detention allowed me to get to know Severus better. It wasn't easy, and it took him a long time to open up to me, but, well... I found that he was actually a good man underneath that cold façade that he wears. That's really not him at all if anyone gives him the chance to open up."

"So, last year... When you were looking for Horcruxes and he was Headmaster... What then?"

Hermione turned her attention to Harry with a guarded expression. She hadn't told him anything about sneaking out to visit Severus while they were supposed to be hunting down pieces of Voldemort's soul. Her heart instinctively beat faster.

"Well, he came to me first—" she started, but Harry interrupted right away.

"He came to you? _When?_"

"Erm, sometime in early November when I was on watch... He told me the truth about Dumbledore. He hadn't explained it to me, and as close as we were, I understand now why he didn't. There's no way I would have trusted him had I'd known before everything went down.

"After he came to me and told me everything, we - we met several more times after that." There was a strange flicker in Harry's green eyes that unsettled her, so she pressed on in haste, "I'm sorry for not telling you, Harry, but how could I? You and Ron hated him, and no one knew that he was on our side but me. You wouldn't have believed me and probably would've thought I'd gone off the deep end if I told you about us, so I didn't say anything. I just couldn't."

Harry didn't respond right away, but when he did, his tone was low and rather cautious. "Did he always come to you when you were on watch?"

Hermione was more reluctant than ever to answer. If she could have prevented this conversation at all, she would have, but she also knew Harry had the right to know, and, apprehensively, she shook her head.

"No... There were many more times when I went to him."

Harry's eyes widened. "You did? _How?_ When?"

"Usually when you or Ron was on watch... I'd leave during the night and return a few hours later."

Ginny inched forward in her seat, more curious now and somewhat excited. "Where did you meet him?"

"At Hogwarts, in his private quarters... It was the only place safe enough where we wouldn't get caught."

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other again, stunned. Hermione knew what was also running through their minds and tried not to blush. Then Harry angled his head and scrutinized her more carefully, which didn't make her feel any less sheepish.

"'Mione, when you went missing for several days..." To this, Hermione froze, suspecting what was coming. "When Ron and I were worried sick about you... Were you with him?"

"N - Not the entire time, no..."

"_What?_"

"Severus was trying to protect me, Harry," she answered quickly, praying that this would go over better than she anticipated. "He was prepared to turn himself into Voldemort—"

"Hang on. Protecting you from what?"

"From Voldemort. Apparently, he had some elaborate plan in place to kidnap me and torture me in order to get information about you, to find out where you were hiding."

Harry reared back, looking quite shaken. "Oh..."

"Severus was a part of the plot, but not of his own choosing. He told me about the plan, and when he informed me that he wasn't going to hand me over to Voldemort as expected, I couldn't just let him do that, Harry. His life was at stake, and we both knew it. I went after him. I followed him to Malfoy Manor, where I knew Severus was supposed to take me, and that's when... Well, it was horrible; I'll put it that way. I'd rather not go into that, so please don't push me."

Ginny blinked several times with her mouth hanging open. "Did he... Did you see Voldemort? Did he torture you?"

Before Hermione could answer, Harry whispered to her from across the table, "Your back..."

Hermione took a deep breath and acknowledged Harry's realization with a slight bow. "Yes, he tortured me. I managed to break free with Severus's help and... Draco."

"_Draco?_" Ginny half snorted, hardly able to believe it.

"Yes... That part that I told you about, Harry, was true. As I was Disapparating out of the front gates, Voldemort stunned me in the back. Going to Severus's place at Hogwarts was the only rational location I could think of at the time. I knew if I tried to return to you and Ron, he might follow me or discover your location, so I went to Hogwarts.

"I was out for a few days and Severus, he... He took care of me, got me well enough to come back. I probably wouldn't have recovered if he hadn't been there..."

There was a long silence at the end of Hermione's story. She didn't particularly enjoy how Harry and Ginny were gaping at her and finally sighed her frustrations aloud.

"Dumbledore encouraged Severus along, you know. He asked Severus to get to know me and follow through with Voldemort's plans. Severus didn't want to, but it was requested of him by both sides."

"_Dumbledore?_" Ginny murmured, and her utterance of the man's name didn't carry the unfailing respect it once had. The redhead turned sympathetically to Harry, who was now staring down at his cup again with his jaw set at an unpleasant angle.

"I can't believe Dumbledore would be all right with knowing Voldemort had plans to kidnap you," he issued with obvious difficulty, "and wasn't going to do _anything_ to prevent it?"

"I know..."

"That isn't right, 'Mione!" He still sounded quite confused and hurt over the Dumbledore he had once known versus the one he knew now. "I don't care what his intentions were, or why he thought it was necessary; I don't care! It makes no sense to me why he would allow that to happen. I feel like," Harry paused, his mouth twitching unhappily, "after all these years, I really didn't know him at all..."

Hermione eyed her friend, too, with compassion. In that moment, she felt more for Harry than she had in some time.

"I think, in many ways, we all didn't know him, Harry. I was just as shocked to learn from Severus that Dumbledore knew about the plan and didn't try to change anything about it. He simply hoped that, with Severus's training, it might be enough to get me out of the situation; but he also didn't want to lose Severus as his mole. He insisted that Severus go along with it, and if I didn't make it out on my own, then so be it.

"He probably _did_ care in some form or another, but not enough to stop it from happening, and not enough to tell Severus_ not_ to carry out Voldemort's orders. I think he was always concerned with—"

"The greater good," Harry interjected with a dark sneer; Hermione had never seen him speak of Dumbledore with such little respect. "Yeah, I know. That's all that mattered to him... In the end."

For a while, no one said anything, each taking a moment to sip their tea or stare at each other reflectively. Finally, Ginny sighed and shook her long tresses.

"Well, I can understand why you never told us about you and... Snape."

"Yes, well, had you known before seeing Severus's memories, you probably wouldn't have talked to me ever again."

Ginny's eyes expanded. "That's not true!"

"Oh?" Hermione gave the girl a playful smirk. "The man who killed Albus Dumbledore? The evil Headmaster? The Number One most hated man in the wizarding world?"

"Erm, well..."

"It's all right, Ginny. Don't worry about it."

Ginny gave her a half smile before it shrunk into a frown. "Ron's still pretty upset. Well, obviously, as you know."

"Yes," Hermione replied heatedly, the news she had only recently learned coming back to her like a slap to the face, "and he'll just have to get over it. I never made him any promises—"

"I know, Hermione. He's just... He's having a rough go of things. Between losing Fred, losing some of our friends, and losing you, he... He's awfully depressed. It's just been really hard for him. I know that doesn't excuse what he did. Not at all. I'm sure he wasn't kind when he confronted you at the hospital—"

"No, he wasn't. Not in the least."

"Well, I think he feels bad about it," Harry piped up, eying Hermione hesitantly. It did nothing to change her feelings about where they were, however.

"I'm sorry he's been having a rough time. I am. But he was a complete arse that day, Ginny, make no mistake. If he feels badly enough about all the damage he's caused to our friendship, he can let me know by giving me an apology of his own."

Ginny projected another smile of agreement and understanding, as did Harry, which closed the matter. Hermione got to her feet, and her friends did likewise. Their discussions hadn't been all that pleasant, but Hermione was at least relieved to finally get some of it off her chest, and was also heartened to find Ginny hadn't rebuffed her like Ron had. It was a positive turn of events.

"Well, we should get going." Harry gave Hermione a firm hug. "You and I will have a lot on our plate for this upcoming hearing, but I really think it's for the best."

"I agree."

"Snape didn't seem too enthusiastic..."

"Of course not," Hermione lightly snickered. "What did you expect?"

Harry matched her smile with one of his own. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

As she walked them back into the sitting room, she wasn't at all surprised to find Severus wasn't there, and suspected where he might have snuck off to to get away from everyone. "Thanks for coming," she said and hugged them each a second time.

Hermione was surprised to see Ginny's reception changing and was equally touched when her friend surprised her by saying, "Let us know if you need anything. Mum and Dad keep pestering for you to stop by. You _and_ Snape, actually."

"_Really?_"

Ginny gave her a full smile this time. "Really."

"Well, hopefully, if things go better than I'm anticipating," Hermione's heart lodged in her throat, and she found it difficult to keep talking, "we will."

She was additionally moved when Harry reached out to squeeze her shoulder and look her square in the eyes. "Between you and me, 'Mione, we'll help them see reason."

At first, Hermione couldn't respond. She was freshly caught up in a wave of emotions but managed to nod emphatically and keep her chin from buckling.

"I... I hope so, Harry... _Thank you._"

After another series of goodbyes, Harry and Ginny Flooed out of Spinner's End, and Hermione issued a huge sigh of relief at how the visit had gone. _That went much better than expected._ She then strolled off in search of Severus with a much more gratified smile etched across her mouth.

"They're gone, Severus," she called to him playfully from the hallway. "You no longer have to make yourself scarce!"

* * *

**A/N #2: _More fanart (more like really sweet birthday treats) from two talented readers!_  
**

**The first is from PiccolaScintilla, who has created a really lovely image of Severus and Hermione together in the library from the last chapter that's entitled "Love and happiness." The second is by Opera777, and it's a really beautiful image that could easily go with the original _Unquestionable Love_ of Severus and one of his daughters laying together in the Snape reading room. Be sure to check them both out! They're wonderful, as are the ladies who made them. _Thank you so much!_  
**


	49. A Man Against the World

**A/N: My apologies for the delay...**

** _Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 49: A Man Against the World**

Hermione, though not entirely settled in, was at least finding the act of sleeping in a new place doable. Severus, on the other hand, hardly slept at all, as usual, and that was disheartening for her to see. Too often, even in the short span they had spent at Spinner's End, Hermione awoke in the middle of the night to find Severus either sitting up in bed or not in the bedroom at all. She knew she would have to get used to the abnormal sleeping patterns of an insomniac, but with Severus already suffering health-wise, his insomnia did little to lessen her worries when she constantly woke up to find him either still awake or up and about when he shouldn't be.

The night before the hearing, Hermione had fallen asleep later than usual. She was terribly nervous and agitated, and she suspected Severus was, too, even if he were doing a fairly decent job of not showing it. She didn't anticipate that either of them would get much rest, and when she awoke at three o'clock in the morning and turned over in bed, she found Severus—not surprisingly—sitting up with two pillows propped behind his back and head.

"Severus?" she inquired, taking a moment to stretch and roll over completely.

"I'm sorry," he murmured very softly, not looking at her. "Did I wake you?"

"No."

Hermione's eyes traced the silhouette of the dark-haired wizard to his left arm, where his hand was grazing the Dark Mark, his countenance unreadable. There were heavy bags beneath his eyes, but he looked surprisingly alert for not having slept.

"Couldn't sleep?" She reached out to rub his shoulder, and Severus unconsciously stopped what he was doing to give her his full attention.

"Not really, no."

"You should take a Sleeping Draught."

"It won't do much good now."

Hermione studied his somber visage for another moment before scooting herself over to his side of the bed. He readily brought her into a snug embrace, and Hermione situated her head comfortably within the crook of the man's arm.

"Still," she returned, sighing heavily, "you should get some rest. Today's going to be a rough one."

"I know."

Hermione's eyes darted towards Severus's left arm and focused in on the vile skull and snake's mouth. She brought her hand up to delicately brush the image with her small fingers, too, and felt Severus recline his head against hers.

"What were you thinking about?" She listened to his faint heartbeat, not minding the short silence that followed.

"How some things never change..."

"What do you mean?"

Hermione glanced up at him curiously, only to find his intense eyes observing her finger tips on his Dark Mark, his eyelids half opened, seemingly wrapped up in her touch. "Just how my life has played out to this moment. Death Eater, servant of the Dark Lord, even this Dark Mark..." He nodded to it with a long grimace. "I'll always have it. It's a permanent curse. It's not me; it's not who I am, and yet, it will always be attached to me, hanging over my head like some bloody dark cloud."

"Severus..." Hermione extended her neck to kiss the side of his face. "I already know this isn't you."

"But you're the only one. No one else will see the real me when they look at this, or see me._ This_ is what they'll always think I am."

"Who else is routinely going to see it besides me?"

"People don't need to see it, Hermione, to know it's there."

Hermione regarded her sullen wizard thoughtfully. Gazing down at the Dark Mark again, her fingers outlining its disturbing image rather apathetically, she found that it really didn't matter to her, just as it hadn't a year ago when she first discovered it on his forearm. She rarely even recognized it when she was with him, and when he happened to not be covered in his trademark coat.

_No. It really doesn't matter. Not at all._

Nuzzling against his chest, Hermione drew her hand beneath his arm and held it out properly for them both to peruse. "You need to look at this as just a mark, Severus, instead of _the_ Mark," she encouraged him quietly. "It's a part of you, yes, but it's in the past. It doesn't define you; it never will. And all those who judge you based on the Mark and the Mark alone are not only prejudice but simpleminded. It just goes to prove how little, in fact, they really know about you; but_ I_ know the truth, and now so do others as well.

"When I look at this, I don't see 'Death Eater,' I don't see 'monster,' I don't see 'murderer' or 'fiend,' I only see a mark, an image that's a part of your history; a dark moment in your past that's now dead and gone. _That's it_."

When she was through, Hermione raised her head to meet Severus's eyes and was startled by how deeply anguished they had grown. The blackness, of which she loved, was dull, void of hope, and didn't seem to believe a word she had said. He looked like he was on the verge of protesting, too, and Hermione wasn't at all interested in hearing it.

She cast her attention to his arm again and shifted onto her elbow. Lowering her lips to the Mark itself, she did the only thing she could think of that might help change Severus's mind. She saw how stunned he was when he realized what she was about to do, and he inhaled sharply once the young Muggle-born's mouth made contact with that disturbing image, kissing it so tenderly he wasn't even sure how to feel or what to think. All he could do was stare at her beauty, still somewhat in his embrace, who was not only caressing his Dark Mark with such unwavering acceptance, but him as well.

Hermione's lips pecked up and down his arm several times, her lips soft, gentle, and highly sensitive. Severus did his best to remain still and watch unwaveringly but was finding it trying not to shy away from her demonstration. It was such a contrast of images: Hermione's mouth covering something so monstrous and evil. And yet, to his utter amazement, she was unfazed, not caring at all what it represented or how it once spoke of him as a person.

_She's so pure and good_, Severus considered privately, his face downcast,_ and I'm corrupted, contaminated, and all wrong for her..._

Then he suddenly found her looking directly at him and his breathing stalled at the confirmation of overwhelming acceptance he found in her eyes. "Thank you," he managed, after taking some time to formulate his words of gratitude.

It sounded painful and strained, however, and Hermione reacted by gliding her hand into his, clutching it tightly, and sealing the ordeal with a long, affirmative kiss to his mouth. When their lips parted ways, Severus brought her hand closer to safeguard it against his chest and gave her a look of awe.

"Where did you come from?" she vaguely heard him whisper.

Hermione shook her head and leaned in to kiss him again, feeling him respond passionately, his arms pulling her into him, wanting to be near. "It's about time you were accepted," she chuckled against his mouth, "even if you _are_ a stubborn-arsed git who can't see what I see."

Hermione was heartened to feel his thin lips curling into a smile and catching the reflection of a very small glimmer in his eyes before it cast itself out like a flame. "If we had never gotten together," his head fell back against his pillow to fully take her in. "If you had never loved me, would you still think me a good man? Knowing what you know now?"

Hermione attentively brushed a hand through her lover's hair. "Of course I would, Severus. I may not have liked you back then, but I never hated you, and everyone's entitled to forgiveness. I'd like to believe I would've forgiven you." She paused. "I hope you know that?"

"I... I wasn't sure."

Hermione continued to weave her fingers through his limp hair, and he inadvertently leaned into her touch, sighing as some of the lingering tension in his body left. Hermione wanted to scold him for thinking so little of himself and expecting so little of her in return, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. The hearing was hours away, and there was a very real chance that, come later that morning, Severus may not be lying here beside her. She was sickened by the thought of it.

Overcome with emotion, Hermione wove her arms around him and kissed him once more, this time urgently, pecking at his cheek, lips, and neck. She buried her face in his hair, trembling, causing Severus to hug her more securely.

After giving her a moment, Severus reluctantly piped up, "Hermione, we need to talk about this..."

"No," she returned flatly, sounding very much like a child instead of the adult she had grown into.

"If I'm sent to prison to await a proper trial—"

"Stop."

"Let me finish." He sounded surprisingly patient, yet firm, and Hermione fell silent, though with restraint. "If I'm sent away to Azkaban, I've made arrangements to leave Spinner's End to you."

Hermione stiffened in his arms. "What?"

"I've told you before, Hermione," he whispered against her ear, "this place is as much yours as it is mine. Don't think you can't stay here if I'm unable to. I'm leaving it to you to do with as you will."

"But Severus—"

"I have to be prepared, Hermione, and so do you. I don't want you to think you can't come back here after today, that you'll have no place to stay if it should come to that."

"You talk as if you're already leaving me," she moped, bringing her face out of hiding to look at him.

"You heard Potter, you've seen the papers, and I think you already know, Hermione, that there's a very real chance that's how things might play out today."

Hermione was lost for words, and felt utterly hopeless as she stared into Severus's face. "But..." she tried, and closed her mouth instead.

Severus reached out to stroke her cheek, rubbing his thumb affectionately along the contour. "I have some savings—which aren't much either, I'm afraid—that I'm leaving to you as well."

"What?"

"_Money_, Hermione. You'll need something to get back on your feet."

"But..."

"Listen, Hermione, it may not be much—my home, the little money I have to give away—but I don't want you to feel abandoned. I know I haven't had much to offer you, but this is, at the very least, something I _can_ do. For you. You can do whatever you want with the place if I'm sent away. I don't care. Sell it and pocket the money to find a better place of your own—"

"Severus, wait—"

"Just accept it, won't you? Please? I'll... I'll feel a lot better knowing you'll have a roof over your head and enough money to get by for a little while. You'd be safe here, Hermione. That's all I care about. Please, take it?"

Hermione couldn't speak. She could hardly breathe. There was an agonizing pain in her chest that wouldn't subside, no matter how hard she tried to remain strong. She brought her forehead to his and let out a miserable moan.

"All - All right, I... I accept," she replied shakily before adding, "But I won't need it, Severus, because _you'll_ be here with me."

Severus forced the faintest smile and inclined his neck to kiss her lips. When his head fell back against his pillow, that contrived, weakened smile remained.

"I hope so..."

"_You will_," Hermione insisted. She paused, looking him over, before taking a deep breath, knowing she needed to say the words, even if she didn't want to sound boggled down by defeat. "Thank you, Severus. Thank you for looking after me."

Hermione laid her head back on Severus's chest and felt his arms wrap themselves warmly around her. She pressed herself closer and shut her eyes against her nervous, fluttering heart. "No," he insisted after a minute or two. "Thank _you_ for taking care of me..."

* * *

Morning at Spinner's End was a blur. By six o'clock, neither Hermione nor Severus could continue sleeping and resolved to get up and start the day early, wanting as much time together as possible before Severus's nine o'clock hearing.

Hermione felt as though she was walking around in a daze that she couldn't shake off. She cooked a large breakfast that she and Severus barely consumed, then the two sat in the library quietly for about an hour or so, reading as a form of distraction and to keep up with what had become their morning routine, and shared the loo as they got ready for the day, conversing as casually as possible to keep one another calm.

"This bird's nest is atrocious," Hermione bickered, mostly to herself, as she stared at her reflection—her ferocious curls, rather—in the mirror.

Severus soon moseyed into view behind her. His black hair was wet and he had a towel wrapped around his waist. Normally, Hermione would have thoroughly enjoyed such a view, but today, she was too out of sorts to pay much attention to her wizard's half naked form staring back at her in the mirror.

Severus shot her a devilish smirk and scrunched his fingers through her wild curls. Slowly, his hands crept down over her neck to her shoulders and then down her arms to loop around her waist. He pecked the crook of her neck and gazed at her reflection with a gentle regard she had grown wonderfully immune to.

"It looks all well and good to me," he murmured into her ear, sending a tingle down her spine.

Hermione hugged his arms around hers and tried not to turn up her nose at his compliment. "That's very gentlemanly of you," she teased.

"Gentlemanly?" His pupils shrunk. "I thought I was being brutally honest."

"Mmm. You're sort of losing your bite. Did you realize that?"

"That's troublesome."

"It is. I'm used to your snide remarks after so many years that I hardly know what to do when you compliment me now. You shouldn't mess with my emotions so much, Professor. It's confounding."

"Would you prefer that I say something nasty?" he baited, giving her reflection a challenging sneer.

"It might pinch me back to reality, actually."

"You're irksome."

Hermione smiled. "That's more like it." She twirled around and drew up onto her tiptoes to kiss his wet lips. His arms pulled her into him, and she found herself tittering excitedly against his mouth. "You're getting me wet!"

"So?"

"This is one of the only nice blouses I own!"

"Poor you," he growled, not loosening his grip at all.

"You pick the most inconvenient times for such things."

"Stop whining."

Before Hermione could say anything else, Severus wrapped his arms more forcefully around her back, bringing her into a near body bind. Hermione didn't at all mind such possessiveness, however, and was easily set adrift the more they kissed. Soon, she was squirming and gasping for air.

"All right," she laughed, though panting. She reached her hands up to brush them through Severus's long, damp locks. "You need to get ready."

Severus stared down at her without blinking. He preferred to remain in this moment forever, if possible, but it wasn't to be. Would this be his last day as a free man? His last day with Hermione?

_Probably..._ he reflected, his throat constricting as he stared down at her.

Reading his dismal silence, Hermione wove her arms around his waist and settled her eyes on him, evoking a composure she hoped might help them both. "We'll get through this," she insisted, trying to be encouraging. She was consoled to see his subtle gesture of a smile, but it was a halfhearted effort, if that, and there was no mistaking any longer that he was nervous, apprehensive, and disbelieving.

"I just hope I'll get to come back here with you when this day is over."

"_You will_."

Severus reached down to covet her mouth with his own, kissing her tenderly. When he drew back, Hermione's lower lip was quivering.

"Care to help me, Miss Granger?" he offered, as another form of distraction. He nodded towards the bedroom, where his cravat, frock coat, and trousers were pressed and neatly spread out over the duvet.

Hermione welcomed the diversion and smiled up at him. "Can't dress yourself, Professor?"

"I can, indeed, but I thought I'd indulge a certain perculiar witch who has a very bizarre and very abnormal fascination with buttons."

A flash of color emerged on Hermione's cheeks. "Am I _that_ obvious?" she tittered, caught up in the moment.

Severus's eyes gleamed. "Exceedingly." With that, he led her by the hand out of the loo and back into the bedroom.

* * *

"There are a lot more people here than I would have thought..."

Hermione could feel the tightening of Severus's grip on her hand but pushed them forward towards the Ministry elevators at the end of the atrium. It felt way too far away, however.

A significant crowd had gathered when she and Severus entered the Ministry of Magic. Several more simply stopped heading towards their destinations, whatever they may be, to gawk outlandishly or point. Hermione tried to glare them down out of the corner of her eyes, but every time she caught a glimpse of a pointed finger or an unsettling expression from a stranger, it made her cheeks flush redder, so she simply pushed on.

Ignoring their hateful looks, their excited whispers, and the few unfriendly remarks she overheard when walking by was exceedingly difficult, however. It was more trying than she had set her mind to that morning before she and Severus left. She chanced a sidelong glance at Severus, but he wasn't saying anything or returning her gaze, only focused directly ahead on their destination with a clear determination in his stride.

Hermione was relieved to catch sight of Harry standing near the elevators waiting for them; he quickly scurried over to greet the unconventional pair in the most cordial and upbeat manner that he could. He had been speaking to a handful of people that looked to be Aurors and Auror trainees, but they quickly moved away when Severus came into view.

Hermione suspected that Severus probably didn't appreciate Harry's pleasant smile and greeting, but she certainly did, and willingly allowed Harry to embrace her in a comforting hug. He and the professor acknowledged one another with an awkward nod and a "good morning."

Once the three were inside the elevator and making their way down to Courtroom Ten, Harry seized the only quiet moment they would probably have. "There's a rather, erm, rambunctious crowd that's formed outside the courtroom. You two had best prepare yourselves. There's three Aurors just outside the elevator doors waiting for you. They'll escort you safely inside."

Hermione's eyes widened in alarm. "Is that really necessary?"

"I'm afraid so."

There was a stifling pause before Severus unexpectedly spoke up, "Potter." He took Hermione by the arm and inched her towards Harry, which she couldn't understand why. "Take Hermione on ahead of me. No need for her to get caught in the cross-fire should any fools wish to try something."

"Severus," Hermione started, but then the Slytherin whipped his head towards her and shot her a reprimanding glare.

"Just do as I say, would you?"

"No," she argued with a hiss that sounded much like his own.

She seized his hand to close the small rift between them. Harry tried to keep himself from laughing, but there wasn't much time for any lightheartedness anyhow. The elevator doors swung open and Hermione and Severus were bombarded by loud cries, spats of shrewd words they weren't prepared for, countless gawking faces, and a series of flashing lights and hounding journalists, including none other than Rita Skeeter, whose very sight made Hermione's blood boil.

Hermione tried to look at Severus, but it was difficult with the various cameras and reporters shoving themselves in their walking path once they stepped off the elevator. The three Aurors Harry had spoken of immediately closed in, as if out of nowhere, and pushed the crowd away, but to no avail. Harry, too, pressed ahead, trying to form a clear path for them to get to the courtroom doors on the opposite end unscathed.

Severus's free hand twitched for his wand, and it took everything he had to refrain from grabbing it, if only to clear a path for them to move without being pushed or prodded or even shoved on purpose. He could sense Hermione also on her guard at his side, whipping her head around, looking out for any signs of trouble.

"_MURDERER!_" many of them shrieked to Severus, shaking their fists in the air.

"_TRAITOR!_"

"_BASTARD!_"

"_EVIL COWARD!_"

Some of them even spat at the two as they progressed towards the courtroom doors, which all but paralyzed Hermione on the spot. She expected that Severus's appearance wouldn't go over well, that people would probably gossip and stare rudely at him, and her, too, but she hadn't anticipated _this_ outpouring of fury, and from such a large crowd of people at that. It was both debilitating and frightening, and Hermione let out the breath she had been holding once they finally reached the doors to Courtroom Ten. It didn't matter though. The swarm of people still surrounded them and wouldn't let up in their pursuit.

Someone abruptly grabbed Hermione's shoulder, and she all but cried out, until she recognized who it was. "Mrs. Weasley!" she gasped, taking in the sight of Molly, and Arthur standing just behind her. "Mr. Weasley!"

Severus withdrew his wand into his pocket, but Hermione and the Weasleys hadn't even noticed the former spy reach for it when she was touched. "Hello, dear!" Molly greeted, bringing her into a tight hug. Arthur greeted her pleasantly, too, with a smile and a nod of his head. He then eyed Severus and did the same, which all but stunned Hermione.

When Molly reared back, she took possession of Hermione's face and spoke to her calmly, ignoring the large crowd and loud jeers. "We're here to support you," she whispered, to which Hermione's caramel irises expanded.

"_You are?_"

"Yes, dear." She leaned in close to Hermione's ear. "We may not know Severus Snape all that well, but he was a member of the Order long before all of this happened. We _have_ been familiar with him for a long time, even if we've never been friends. And his apology to Ginny, and hearing what she and Harry had to say about their recent visit to see you and Professor Snape, was all we really needed to hear to convince us that we should be here."

Hermione hardly knew how to respond. She wanted to ask what Ginny might have said in Severus's favor, but it was too loud, crowded, and nerve-racking a scene at the moment to ask. She would have to find out another time.

"Thank you," she replied with deep appreciation, trying not to get emotional on the spot. "That means so much, Mrs. Weasley."

"Of course." She gave Hermione her motherly grin that seemed to magically ease some of Hermione's tension. "Arthur's going to testify."

"_He is?_"

Arthur reared closer in an attempt to speak above the crowd. "About Severus's service to the Order, what I knew that he did for us, and the like. Hopefully that can sway some of their decided opinions."

_Decided opinions..._ Hermione's stomach twisted into knots, but then Molly spoke again, interrupting her growing fears.

"You and I _must_ catch up soon, dear."

Hermione knew what Molly meant by such a suggestion. Then again, it wasn't surprising. It was just another extended conversation Hermione would have to have about her relationship with Severus.

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley," she replied softly, forcing a smile that Molly returned.

"You aren't alone today, all right?"

Hermione was enlivened by such unexpected support and she turned to Severus, trying to offer him an additional glimmer of hope with their silent exchange, hoping he might have overheard Molly's sentiments, but the dark wizard remained mute and seemed relatively uncomfortable, as well as distracted by the various vindictive shouts reverberating all around them. She sensed that he was privately grateful for the Weasleys' words of support, if he _had_ heard, but all he could manage to give the pair of them was a curt nod before looking away, his alert eyes scanning the crowd for any hint of disturbance or danger.

Harry and the Aurors led the way inside the courtroom, where two guards promptly shut the doors, blocking out the angry mob to some extent; at least, it was enough for them to talk at a comfortable noise level. Hermione echoed a sigh of relief, but Severus was still tense and silent at her side.

Arthur and Molly meandered to a nearby bench and sat down with their heads close together, whilst Hermione guided a quiet Severus to another bench a few rows down, far away from where the Wizengamot council would reside. Harry soon joined them but remained standing.

"Are you all right, Professor, if Hermione and I do most of the talking?"

"If you insist," Severus muttered, scanning the circular room with evident uneasiness. It was the most unhinged Harry had probably ever seen the man, even if it was understated.

"I have the phial."

That grabbed Severus's attention. He locked eyes with Harry, who extracted a small flask from his pocket and gave him an encouraging look over.

"Don't show that unless it's absolutely necessary, Potter," Severus hissed with more bark than he had meant to.

Hermione squeezed his hand. "Severus, they _should_ see it. It'll show them—"

"I won't have everything I did made a mockery of by a group of prejudiced fools!"

"Severus, that's _not_ what they'll think—"

"_Oh?_ You don't know that."

"Neither do you, sir," Harry interrupted, staring at Severus in an almost sympathetic manner that wasn't at all to the professor's liking.

"They don't need to know about my early life, Potter. It's completely irrelevant, and I won't allow it."

_Damn me to Hell for showing myself to Potter at all! What was I thinking?_

"I wasn't planning to, Professor. Just the events from the time you switched alliances to the present, I promise. That's all they need to know about."

Severus's mind was a little more put to ease at that, but the thought of having himself so exposed to a whole host of individuals who already hated him made him secretly nauseous. What did they know about what he had gone through? They didn't know a bloody thing. And they wouldn't care anyhow.

"Severus?"

Severus's eyes fluttered towards Hermione, who was eying him over with worry. She leaned in—ignoring Harry for the moment—and pecked his cheek. Jolted by the public display of affection, Severus blushed furiously, which Harry did his best not to snicker at.

Hermione looked to be on the verge of saying something when the heavy doors suddenly swung open and a series of men and women in official plum-colored robes came strolling in, followed by a handful of wizards and witches in black robes from various Ministry Departments. "They're early..." Harry blurted out, surprised.

The mere sight of them was enough to make Severus go rigid in his seat, and Hermione felt a tighter compression of her hand. No one would have suspected how nervous he was. Even now, the wizard disguised his fears far too well for anyone to disect, but Hermione knew, and she reacted by squeezing his hand in return.

The council members all focused in directly on where Severus and Hermione sat, as they progressed to their seats on the opposite end of the room, staring them down rather heatedly, or so Hermione perceived. As she frantically examined their expressions, her heart beating fast, it became frightfully clear to her that none of them were at all empathetic or even neutral towards the misunderstood wizard in question. Their scowls, narrowed eyes, and excited whispers said it all: Severus was already condemned in their eyes, and this hearing was going to need a hell of a lot of convincing for them to believe otherwise.

Hermione tried to inconspicuously eye Severus, wanting to judge his reaction to things, but his entire face had gone stiff and his raven eyes were stone cold, lifeless. Harry moved to take a seat in the row in front of them, and Hermione brought their intertwined hands into her lap.

Severus may have exuded composure and calmness, but inside his head was spinning and his stomach was doing somersaults. Now that this moment was upon him, all he could think about was bolting from the room. He could take the sneers, the scowls, the furious exchange of words as they all studied and scrutinized him, but the looming prospect of Azkaban prison was what shook him to the core.

_You_ are _a fucking coward, Severus._

Kingsley Shacklebolt entered soon thereafter, sparing Severus from much more internal berating. The Minister briefly made eye contact with Severus and Hermione, then Harry, and climbed to his seat at the center of the council. The room didn't quiet down, however, and it took a moment or two for Kingsley to bring the hearing to order.

"Ladies and gentleman, let's get started," he stated in a rich, commanding tone. He cleared his throat, his expression too difficult for Hermione to read. "Law Enforcement hearing of the 26th of July in offenses committed by Severus Tobias Snape, resident of Spinner's End, Cokeworth, England. Members of the Wizengamot Council will act as interrogators and Harry Potter will act as witness for the defense."

"Minister?" Harry spoke out, rising from his seat to address Kingsley. "Hermione Granger will also be acting as a witness for the defense."

Before Kingsley could so much as open his mouth, there were several jeers of protests. "Miss Granger is _not_ a suitable witness!" one elderly man with a grey beard cried above the rest. "She's cavorted with the defendant! She can hardly be an agreeable witness to these allegations!"

"She also knows him better than any of us," Harry returned, surprising everyone, including Severus. "She knows what he's gone through, what he's seen. She's a much more reliable witness than me, for that matter. _She knows Professor Snape_."

"Of course she does!" came the cold snicker of a plump, female council member.

The witch's jab caused an uproar of condescending laughter that reverberated around the room. Hermione stared the woman down, as did Harry, and only Severus remained inanimate and seemingly unmoved by her catty remark. The edge of his lip curled, showcasing his only possible hint of displeasure.

"Silence!" Kingsley demanded. "If it's true that Miss Granger knows Severus Snape well enough to act as a witness—"

"_Of course_ the girl knows him, Kingsley!" another male member snarled. "You've seen the papers!" A series of outcries followed this interruption.

"An outrage!"

"Scandalous!"

"Immoral!"

"An abomination!"

"Disgusting!"

Hermione wanted to sink into the bench and disappear, not because of the shame that the council members were clearly trying to provoke from the pair of them, but because of how they so harshly misconstrued their relationship. A fire in the center of her chest was trickling up to her face, making her cheeks glow, and it took every ounce of composure she owned not to shout back. It was not mortification Hermione felt, but a deep-seated resentment towards the whole lot of them. She sensed Severus starting to shy away from her touch, reacting to the councils' burning echoes of disapproval, so she clasped his hand even tighter than before.

"_Silence!_" Kingsley demanded. "Regardless of Miss Granger's personal relations to the defendant, Severus Snape is permitted a second witness. You all are well aware of this regulation."

"But Minister—"

"Enough on this matter!" For the first time, Kingsley's tone was marked by an unusual irritation, and he quickly moved on. "I have no desire to prolong this discussion. Let's get started. Severus Snape, if you would step forward and have a seat, please."

Kingsley motioned to a wooden chair in the center of the room, which didn't look like much, but Severus knew better. He took a calculated breath and slowly rose to his feet, taking a fleeting moment to peer down at Hermione, who was still grasping his hand. He could tell she was frightened, and he could perceive what she was thinking without the need to read her mind; but he forced himself to move past her and reluctantly unlocked his hand from hers.

Walking onto the podium, Severus focused on getting to his destination without stumbling, trembling, or showing any signs of weakness. He could hear an obnoxious buzzing in his ears and did his best to ignore it. Severus sat down to find not just the scenery before him more uncomfortable than before—with the entire council looming down at him—but the chair, too, was also uncompromising. He tried not to wince at the aches that began trickling up through his legs and re-situated himself several times in an attempt to get comfortable.

"We will have your wand, please," Kingsley addressed him after a considerable pause, and only Hermione caught the flicker of panic in her wizard's dark orbs that was brief but distraught all the same.

Severus removed his wand from beneath his cloak and held it out in front of him. It was levitated out of his grasp to Kingsley, who promptly handed it off to another official. A muscle in Severus's cheek flinched at the onset of no longer possessing his wand. For a wizard, being disarmed was as debilitating as it got, and Hermione could see that even a powerful wizard like Severus wasn't at all adhered to being without it.

It was only then that magical bindings shot out of the chair and wrapped themselves around Severus's wrists and ankles, binding him so that he could no longer move. Harry and Hermione had no idea that that would happen and visibly startled at the sight of their former professor now chained in what, to Muggles, would look like handcuffs, only they were illuminated and restricted him from making much movement at all. The sight sickened Hermione, and she tried not to let it show when Severus shot her a quick exchange before looking away again.

"Please state your name for the Wizengamot," Kingsley requested.

"Severus Snape." Hermione hated how unemotional his response was, as well as his facial features, which didn't so much as twitch as he peered up at all the biased, unpleasant faces.

"Please state your oc—"

"I demand Veritaserum!" came a loud cry from somewhere towards the back, and everyone's attention, including Kingsley's, turned towards a skinny, frightful-looking woman with severe makeup and a tight-fitting bun.

"Romilda, this is a formal hearing, not a full-fledge trial. Veritaserum is not—"

The woman shot to her feet and pointed her finger at Severus, turning her nose up at him and Kingsley in defiance. "That man is an exception, Minister! Considering the magnitude of his crimes—"

"He has not formally been charged with those crimes, Romilda," Kingsley stated calmly. "We are not to pass sentence on a trial until we have heard whatever evidence the defendant, Mr. Potter, and Miss Granger have to offer."

The witch named Romilda, ruffled and egged on by the echoes of agreement surrounding her, shook her head. "No, Minister, this hearing calls for Veritaserum! I, for one, won't trust a bloody word that comes out of that man's mouth unless he's given a proper dose of it!"

Kingsley, ignoring the shouts of agreement for a moment, peered down at Severus and, for the first time, Hermione caught a flicker of hesitation and a small dose of empathy on the Minister's face. "The council will put it to a vote then. Those in favor of using Veritaserum in the hearing case of Severus Snape?"

The show of raised hands was unanimous. Even Harry looked stunned that every single hand was raised. Kingsley was the only one who didn't agree with this change in normal protocol. He sighed heavily.

"Very well. Mr. Causer," he addressed one of the two guards standing by the door, "if you please."

The young guard nodded and disappeared momentarily, returning soon with a phial in hand. He stepped forward, drawing closer to Severus quite cautiously, despite the fact that the wizard was bound and chained to his chair. Once he was only a foot or two away, the guard hesitated and surveyed Severus with a nervous twitch. The man was clearly fearful, mistrusting, and before she even realized that she was speaking aloud, Hermione huffed and shot out of her seat.

"Oh, for goodness' sake! _I'll_ do it, Minister." There was clamor of voices that erupted at her outburst. "If you'll permit me, sir?"

"Very well, Miss Granger."

Hermione didn't waste any time and stalked over to the anxious guard, snatching the phial from his trembling hand with a proper reproachful glare that made the young man instantly recoil. She walked directly in front of Severus and locked eyes on him, her expression deeply remorseful and forlorn.

Severus tried to give her a small smile of encouragement, but it did nothing for how Hermione felt in that moment. Bending down, she uncorked the phial and pressed it to his lips.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, to which he responded in a way she didn't expect.

"What have I told you about that?"

Hermione wanted to smile back but couldn't. "This will all be over soon, I promise."

Severus didn't say anything and, instead, swallowed three drops of the truth-baiting liquid without question. Hermione brushed a trace of the Veritaserum off of his lower lip and made her way back to her seat, but not before tossing the phial back to the young guard and glaring him down as she went.

By the time she reached Harry and turned around, the pair of them still standing, there was a shift visibly noticeable on Severus's face. His pupils dilated, the severe outlines of his face softened, and he peered up at the council differently than before. He was relaxed, trance-like. It wasn't the Severus Hermione knew at all; not the guarded, strong-willed, and sharp-minded professor. He was now entirely at the council's mercy, without even being fully aware of such, and Hermione felt her heart collapse into the pit of her stomach.

"Please state your occupation, Master Snape," Kingsley encouraged once it was evident to everyone that this change had taken place.

"Until May 1st of this year, I was the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Severus's answer was robotic, automatic, and not at all emotive. Hermione hated it. "I currently have no occupation."

"And why did you leave your post as Headmaster?"

If Severus were himself, he would have rolled his eyes, grumbled, and answered with a dry, sarcastic remark, but he didn't. "I was ambushed."

"Ambushed?"

"I was pushed out of the castle by Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House and Professor of Transfiguration. She rallied against me, and I fled."

"You fled?"

"Yes. It was a welcome opportunity to take my leave and give Hogwarts back to the staff and to Potter. I knew Minerva was protecting him when he, Hermione, and Mr. Weasley snuck into the castle that night."

"I see." Kingsley quickly shifted gears. "Do you know why you are here today, Master Snape?"

"To answer to the crimes for which I have been accused."

"Would you tell us what they are?"

Severus didn't so much as flinch when he answered, "For my crimes as an active Death Eater and servant of the Dark Lord, and for killing the former Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore."

"And do you serve the Dark Lord still?" came a male member's question, which sounded quite sadistic. The council was on the edge of their seats, as if anticipating his answer, which turned out to be one that perceivably surprised them all.

"No, I do not." Hermione was quite pleased to witness the disappointment on their heated faces, until Severus added, "The man's dead," and her concern resurfaced.

"Then if he were alive," baited the same male member with a sneer, "you would serve him still, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I would." There was heightened commotion to this answer. "To extract information and to spy for Potter and the Order, yes, I would continue to serve him."

"Come now, Master Snape," piped up another elderly man near where the Weasleys were sitting. "We know you spied on those on our side, too. Answer to _that!_"

"Indeed, I did," Severus returned with a curt nod. "In order to ensure that I stayed within the Dark Lord's good graces, I had to present him with information on those he wanted to know about, including Dumbledore. Otherwise, my role as a double agent would have been for naught."

"What about those on our side who died at his hand?" the man asked with an enraged passion. "Why didn't you do anything about it, if you were, as you say, a 'double agent'?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Severus returned, which warmed Hermione to hear. It was reflective of the snarky man she knew, and it was pleasant to see. "If I had stepped in,_ I_ would have been killed. What use would that have been to our cause?"

"Plenty!" a few people hissed under their breaths.

The cool comment both alarmed and exacerbated Hermione. She inadvertently gripped the bench in front of her to control her rising anger.

"Why didn't you try to save any of them? Obviously, you didn't care enough to help those on our side, did you?"

"On the contrary, I _did_ care." His answers were beginning to aggravate many of the council members, who found themselves befuddled by his genuine responses under Veritaserum. "I tried to warn those that I could to desist, to be cautious, to stay out of harm's way. I cannot watch everyone at any given moment, and I do not hold the power to determine whether people listen to me or not. I can only try to persuade. That is all."

"And yet, you didn't prevent it!"

"He couldn't have!" Harry shot back, stalking to the center of the room where Severus sat, alone. Hermione, too, strolled onto the platform and made her way over to Severus's side. "His position as a spy was a compromising position! Surely, you all can understand that?"

"It doesn't dismiss the fact that he was an active Death Eater, which, as we all know, Mr. Potter, consisted of torture, mutilation, and death of many innocent lives! I believe if we delve further, Master Snape will tell us that he willingly participated in these affairs."

"I did participate, yes," Severus replied; Hermione almost seized his hand to stop him from speaking until she realized it wouldn't do any good in his present state. "But not willingly. I didn't enjoy being a Death Eater. It was difficult for me."

"Is that so?" argued a heavyset female in black robes, an official member of the Ministry.

"Yes."

"Then why did you become a Death Eater in the first place if you didn't enjoy it or share their views about pureblood supremacy?"

"I was foolish and naïve in my youth, and when I first joined, it was for the chance to make something of myself."

"By becoming a Death Eater? What a dishonorable path to choose!"

"I agree with you, Madame, but I didn't at the time. I was eighteen, and I was angry with the world. I finally had a place where I fit in. It was only after I joined that I began to lament it."

"And yet, you remained a Death Eater! Why didn't you just leave if that's how you felt? Particularly once the Dark Lord was defeated?"

"He_ wasn't_ defeated, Madame. I thought that was universal knowledge."

The woman's eyes turned into slits as she spit back at Severus, "Just answer my question!"

"Certainly." Hermione was inwardly amused by how, even under Veritaserum, Severus could still get under people's skin so easily. "I remained a Death Eater because I didn't know where else I belonged. When I overheard the Prophecy that spoke of Potter's and the Dark Lord's fates, it was an opportunity to prove my value and importance, even if I was sickened at being part of the Dark Lord's inner circle—"

"_You_ told the Dark Lord about the Prophecy?"

"Yes, I did."

"He didn't know!" Hermione protested, panic-stricken by the alarming reactions of those surrounding them. "He had no idea at the time that the Prophecy spoke of the Potters! If he'd known, Severus _never_ would have informed the Dark Lord in the first place!"

"Don't speak for him, Miss Granger!" instructed a wizard in his mid-thirties who shot out of his seat. "Unless it comes from the man's own mouth, we won't be foolish enough to believe a word of it!"

Hermione peered down at Severus, frantic. "Severus, isn't that true? Didn't you tell me so yourself?"

"Yes, I did. It's true."

The shocked whispers that surfaced in response to Severus's confession did little to ease the tension. The man who had addressed Hermione before glared down at Severus with a freshly mean-spirited scowl.

"So," he whispered, "indirectly, _you_ are the culprit responsible for the deaths of Lily and James Potter."

A deep frown emerged on Severus's pale face, and he lowered his head a fraction so that his hair fell forward to somewhat hide his remorse. "Indeed, I am..." came his painful reply.

Hermione no longer cared about her public display, nor that it would have made Severus cross if he were in his right frame of mind. She reached for his hand and safeguarded it in her own.

"He's _not_ responsible!" she insisted, but Harry put up a hand to stop her and stepped forward.

"Contrary to what the professor has said, he_ isn't_ responsible. That's only his guilt talking. I thought you all already knew that it was Peter Pettigrew who gave my parents up to Voldem—"

"_Don't say his name!_" several of them cried out.

Harry ignored them. "It was Peter Pettigrew, _not_ Severus Snape, who ultimately gave my parents up. If there's anyone who has an indirect hand in my parents' deaths, it was him, not the professor."

"That's very noble of you, Harry," said an elderly man in an airy voice sitting near Kingsley that both Harry and Hermione recognized from Bill and Fleur's wedding: Ephlias Dodge. "But make no mistake, and Master Snape has admitted to it himself, _he_ informed the Dark Lord about the Prophecy. If Master Snape here hadn't told him, your parents might still be alive..."

Harry took in a sharp breath. "Sir, I'd like to believe that—_I really would_—but can't we all just be frank about the fact that my parents had, in a way, sealed their own fate when they denied joining Vold—You-Know-Who—three separate times? My parents knew the risks, they knew of the dangers that would come at refusing him. If _I_ can acknowledge the fact that my parents would have at least been hunted or pursued by You-Know-Who, regardless of whether or not he'd known about the Prophecy, then you all can accept that very likely probability, too."

Harry waited for the shock on the council members' faces to subside before adding, "And there's another reason that Severus Snape wouldn't have told You-Know-Who about the Prophecy if he'd known it had to do with my parents. He hasn't told you the whole truth yet..."

"And what is _that_, Mr. Potter?" challenged a young woman seated next to Doge, eying the young man with a mixture of curiosity and challenge.

Harry turned around to look at Severus but was disheartened by the man's glazed over expression. Hermione knew her friend wanted his permission for what he was about to disclose, but the man was obviously not under his own control to do so, so Hermione egged Harry on.

"Go ahead, Harry," she encouraged him quietly. "It's all right. They _need_ to know the truth."

That seemed to be all Harry needed, and he turned around to peer up at all the gawking faces of the Wizengamot again, this time with fresh determination. "Severus Snape loved my mother. _That's_ why he never would have given them up had he known. He loved her nearly all his life, from the time they were kids. He would _never_ have wanted to see my mother murdered.

"And it was because of her death that Severus Snape switched sides and became a double agent. It was my mother who prompted him to become a spy for our cause, and he..." Harry paused before continuing, taking in the heated whispers responding to this revelation. "He made a promise to Dumbledore to protect me, and he kept that promise. He's been watching over me for years without me knowing it, without _anyone_ knowing it, save for Dumbledore...

"I have no doubt in my mind that I'm very much alive today in part because of Severus Snape. Because he loved my mother; loved her enough to protect me, even though I wasn't his flesh and blood. Even though my father and his friends bullied him as a teenager. Even though I'm James Potter's son, Severus Snape_ still_ protected me. If that doesn't give any of you a little glimpse into who this man really is, then I... I don't know how else to convince you, save for letting you see so for yourselves."

There was a stunned silence that followed when Harry was through. Even Hermione was somewhat taken aback, and moved, by Harry's sentiments. The council was clearly confounded by these turn of events and soon began to illustrate so in their individual reactions.

"See for ourselves?" one of them called out, intrigued.

Harry nodded and withdrew the flask of memories Severus had given him from his pocket. He held it up for the council to see, and the hushed exchanges of words grew louder.

"Severus Snape confessed these matters to me the night he was attacked by Nagini in the Shrieking Shack. He was dying, and we all thought he wasn't going to make it, so he gave these memories to me. It's all here. You can see for yourselves."

Before long, one of the men who had spoken out against Severus earlier shouted down at Harry, "Memories can be tampered with, Mr. Potter!"

Hermione grated her teeth and turned to Severus. She squeezed his hand, wanting to get him to speak up.

"Severus, are those memories you showed Harry true?"

"Yes..." he answered mechanically.

"There! See?" she sniped. "I don't think in his dying moments Severus would_ still_ lie to Harry, or to any of us. I don't think most people would lie in their final moments of life."

There were a selection of retorts, but they quickly died down once Kingsley extended his hand into the air. "Bring the phial here, Mr. Potter."

Harry gladly did so and rushed over to the podium where Kingsley sat. The Minister whisked his wand out of his robes and levitated the phial into his grasp.

"The Wizengamot will hold onto this phial as evidence and inspect its contents. I have already seen these memories, so I will forfeit a second viewing. This should then be returned to Mr. Potter once the council's examination has concluded. Thank you, Mr. Potter."

Harry stepped back and waited, along with Hermione, for what might come next. They knew this wasn't over but were still aggravated when one of the members—a younger male—brought forth the touchiest subject that Severus was being accused of.

"What about Dumbledore? Severus Snape murdered the Headmaster! _That_ is unaccountable! Didn't you, Master Snape?"

"I did kill him, yes," Severus whispered ever so softly. Despite the Veritaserum, there was a bit of feeling projecting through his voice that Hermione could detect, and she unconsciously pressed his hand in comfort.

"You do not deny then that you killed Albus Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower on the 30th of June, 1997?"

"I do not deny it."

"And that you fled the school, along with several Death Eaters, who had penetrated Hogwarts' walls by way of a Vanishing Cabinet that you had been aware of for some time?"

"Yes, I fled the school, as planned, and, yes, I knew of the Vanishing Cabinet." He paused. "So did Dumbledore."

The man's expression morphed into one of shock. "I beg your pardon?"

"He knew that Draco Malfoy had been assigned the task of killing him. He knew about the plan because I told him."

"Then you led him on?"

"No, I didn't."

"Even if he knew that Mr. Malfoy was set to murder him, you're the one who did it, Professor!"

"_Because Dumbledore told him to!_" Hermione interrupted, too frustrated now to hold back any longer. "Because _Dumbledore_ told Severus to kill him!"

There was a round of fresh cries of protest and scorn at Hermione's outburst. "Miss Granger!" one of them came back at her aggressively. "What on earth do you take us for?"

Hermione knew better than to give them a piece of her mind and, instead, stated with as much composure as possible, "The Headmaster had been cursed pursuing one of the Horcruxes—the ring of Mavolo Riddle—and by the time he returned to Hogwarts, it was too late. The curse was irreversible; Dumbledore was going to die. He knew this, and so did Severus.

"Dumbledore placed the heavy burden on Severus to kill him because he didn't want Draco Malfoy's soul to be tarnished by committing such a crime. He also knew that, by doing so, Severus would gain You-Know-Who's complete trust, and be able to spy on him even more closely than ever. It was Dumbledore who requested the unfair, horrible task be placed on Severus's shoulders, and Severus complied with the Headmaster _reluctantly_."

A few people started to interrupt, but Hermione pressed on, speaking above the commotion, "Dumbledore didn't want to die by way of the curse, and he also didn't want to die at the hands of any Death Eater or You-Know-Who himself. He placed that awful burden on Severus; it was _not_ something he performed with any sort of malicious intent. He did it because it was Dumbledore's last wish, because it was demanded of him, because it would put him in a better position as a spy for _us_, and because he, too, didn't want Draco to be the one to do it. Isn't that right, Severus?"

It was an excruciatingly long moment, at least for Hermione, before Severus answered. He solemnly nodded his head in agreement.

"Yes... That's correct."

"It's true," Harry additionally jumped in, trying to silence the uproar that was resounding around the room. "It's all in that phial. Have a look for yourselves. It was all planned—Dumbledore's murder, Snape taking over as Headmaster, continuing to spy on You-Know-Who—and none of it was spontaneously carried out.

"For the record, Snape's the one who brought me the Sword of Gryffindor so that we could destroy one of the Horcruxes. _He helped us_. He fought alongside us all along. We just didn't know it; and we couldn't, or he would've been dead."

"Most unfortunate," someone spat loud enough for Hermione and Harry to hear.

That was it for Hermione. With a heat fueling her inner rage, her hand fell out of Severus's and she stalked forward, challenging them all with her sharp scowl.

"_How dare you!_ He fought for you! He spied for all of you! Whether you wish to accept the fact that Severus Snape helped our cause or not, _he did do so_, and he's admitted to it under Veritaserum!

"Look, we're all hurt and wounded over what happened in this war, but that doesn't give any of you the right to use Severus here as your scapegoat! Volde—"

"_Don't say his name!_" someone squeaked, which only propelled Hermione further.

"Voldemort's gone! _He's dead!_ There should be no fear in saying the psychopath's name! If _Harry_ can say it, so can you!"

Ignoring a few remarks that shot back at her, Hermione continued to call above the noise, "You've captured many Death Eaters who _haven't_ shown remorse, who _did_ follow the Dark Lord willingly, who _weren't_ ever on the side of good. An ounce of Veritaserum will tell you just that! _Those_ are the culprits you should be focused on! It's _they_ whom you should be punishing! _Not Severus!_"

"It doesn't change the fact that this man has—"

"_This man_," Hermione snarled and pointed a finger at Severus, "has sacrificed a great deal at your expense! All of you! You should be thanking him, not unjustly demanding that he pay for what he's done! _He's a good man!_ He doesn't deserve this from any of you!"

Though there were a few additional protests, it was a plump woman who addressed Hermione earlier that rose out of her seat, and the look she bore Hermione was one of severe disapproval and disdain. "Touching words, Miss Granger," she offered in a condescending tone, "but then, I suppose, if I had bedded with a Death Eater and been brainwashed into falling in love with him, I'd probably make the same sort of foolish declaration myself."


	50. A Different Sort of View

**A/N: Part 2 of the trial, and more. I didn't want to break it up, but it was already quite a lengthy chapter, so this one's a bit on the shorter side.  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 50: A Different Sort of View**

"_What?_" Hermione gasped and nearly stumbled backward.

_'Brainwashed'? That's not... What the hell?_

"That's right, Miss Granger. Your regard for a Death Eater, regardless of his intentions, is _very_ troublesome, and goes against the logical, highly revered reputation you've had. The only possibility that makes sense to me is that you've been spoon fed so many lies by this dangerous man that your brain is warped. You aren't thinking clearly, Miss Granger. Severus Snape _must_ have poisoned your mind. It's the only reason that someone like_ you_ could possibly fall in love with someone like... _That._"

"You're wrong!" Hermione shouted, stunned and disgusted. "_So wrong!_"

The woman crossed her arms defiantly and stuck up her nose with a provoking smirk. "Am I?"

"YES! My feelings for Severus are none of your business—"

"That may be so. The matter of your relationship ultimately lies with the Board of Governors. However, as council members, we are fully allowed and permitted to address our concerns. I think you need to take a step back, Miss Granger, and clear your head. This man obviously has a troublesome hold on you that's deeply disturbing."

"I won't discuss my relationship with Severus," Hermione hissed through a clenched jaw. "That's between _us_ and no one else."

The witch returned her response with a devilish simper. "As you wish, Miss Granger, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Hermione stepped back, strolled over to Severus, and retook possession of his hand as he stared on, dazed and entirely unlike himself. Hermione could tell a number of them despised just seeing them holding hands, which fueled her determination. She didn't care.

_Let them squirm._

"We're getting off track here," another male member called out. "Even if it _is_ true, and we may determine yes or no depending upon the validity of the memories Mr. Potter has provided us today, the fact still remains: regardless of Severus Snape's intentions, he _is_ responsible for the taking of an innocent life. It doesn't matter if Dumbledore planned his own demise to be carried out by Severus Snape himself," the man added when Harry opened his mouth to protest. "He is _still_ responsible for taking another wizard's life. That is a crime, make no mistake. It's not something we can overlook."

"Yes! Yes!" cried another council member—a young woman—who shot out of her seat. "And the fact also remains that he actively participated in the various acts of the Death Eaters! He admitted it himself. He should be tried for all of these crimes appropriately!"

An uproar of support echoed around the room, and Hermione could feel herself breaking a sweat. She clutched Severus's hand tighter than ever. She wanted to plead his case again, and was fully prepared to, but Kingsley held up his hand and called for silence. He peered down at Hermione and Harry, and only they caught a glimmer of sympathy behind the Minister's chocolate-colored eyes.

"Severus Snape, do you have anything further to say in response to the crimes for which you are accused?"

Hermione glanced down at the man, but he appeared distant and impassive, which she couldn't stand. She wished he would speak more earnestly and convincingly, and hoped he would offer up something else in his favor, but to her horror and discouragement, he slowly shook his head.

"No, Minister. I have nothing further to say, unless it is asked of me."

Kingsley regarded the wizard soberly. "Very well." He turned his attention to Harry and Hermione, surveying their youthful faces for a long pause. "Have you any further evidence to present to the council in this case?"

Harry turned to Hermione, and she was just as stumped. _They need to look at the memories_, she determined quickly. _That will put an end to all of this nonsense._

"I have evidence, Minister!" came Arthur Weasley in a corner of the room where he sat with his wife.

Hermione had all but forgotten that the Weasleys were there, and it brought her a tremendous sense of relief to find two more individuals rallying in Severus's defense. "What do you have to present, Arthur?" Kingsley asked, ignoring a few defensive hisses from the council.

"I served in the Order, both in the First and Second Wars, as did Severus Snape. We worked together, and I would be happy to name for the council several things the man did for our cause, if the council will permit me?"

"Absolutely not!" more than one of them spat.

"If there is anything in that phial about the good Severus Snape did for the Order, we will take it under consideration."

"Harry and Hermione aren't the only two who are coming forward in Severus Snape's defense," Arthur returned with a bit of aggression he rarely displayed. "I worked alongside him. I _do_ have valid evidence to offer in his defense."

"Be that as it may," said an elderly gentleman in a back corner of the room, several rows up, "I say we examine the evidence in the phial first and go from there. If we feel further testimony is needed, Arthur, we'll call upon you."

"Unless the council has a legitimate reason for denying further evidence—" Kingsley began, illustrating a little more feeling and annoyance than before, but he was instantly cut off.

"The phial is enough!"

"Yes, according to Mr. Potter, it should show us everything we need to determine concerning the validity of Severus Snape's crimes."

"And they've supposedly come from Severus Snape himself!"

"Let us look at these memories and then determine the next course of action!"

After a several more minutes of exhaustive debating, in which Arthur tried to speak up a number of times but was overruled, Kingsley finally gave them an apologetic look. "It would seem the council is quite adamant in this matter, Arthur." There was evident discouragement on the Minister's face, but, to Hermione, he also seemed rather powerless in preventing what was happening, and that angered her. "The council will, therefore, look into these matters first, and call upon you again should they have further questions."

Disgruntled, Arthur fell back into his seat beside Molly and shook his head, glaring up at the council with a sharp disapproval Hermione and Harry had never seen before. Molly, too, looked completely disgusted with how things were turning out.

"Let it be recorded," Kingsley continued, "that, as Minister for Magic, I do not agree with this method of addressing these matters; but it would seem that I'm overruled."

The room quieted down a minute or two later, and Hermione and Harry waited with bated breath for the council to pass sentence. It wasn't looking good, that was easy enough to decipher, and Hermione felt more frightened and anxious than ever, now that the moment was finally here. The thought of Severus going to prison was unthinkable, and she inadvertently bit hard on her lower lip to suppress her anxiety.

"The council will reconvene this time next week to look at the memories provided in this case and determine if a proper trial is warranted in the case of Severus Tobias Snape. In the meantime, he is free to go."

Hermione's mouth dropped in shock. A weight immediately lifted from her shoulders, and she could hardly contain her excitement. _Free to go?_ Elation washed over her face. But as soon as Kingsley determined this as the next step in the process, there was another swarm of loud protests that smacked the happiness of the moment right out of her.

"_What?_ You're just going to let him go?" many of them hollered at once.

"This is unjust and unheard of, Minister!"

"An outrage!"

"He should await our sentence in Azkaban along with the rest of his comrades!"

"What gives _him_ privileges that others awaiting similar crimes do not have?"

"He should stay in Azkaban for the time being! Until a decision has been reached!"

Kingsley was easily being overrun by the whole lot of the council, and despite his attempts at demanding to be heard, it did very little to shut down how the rest of the hostile council viewed the matter. Many had gotten to their feet and were hooting and shouting at both Kingsley and Severus, throwing their fists in the air or pointing directly at Severus as if he were an inanimate object.

"Let us put it to a vote!" several demanded, and virtually everyone in the room agreed.

Kingsley locked eyes with the three helpless individuals in the middle of the room, seemingly ignoring all the cries of protest, and Hermione could perceive the sadness and remorse on the man's face, which set her into even more of a panic than she already felt. It also infuriated her, however. It would seem Kingsley had no choice, and, sure enough—just as Hermione feared—Kingsley allowed the council to vote on whether or not to send Severus to Azkaban.

The show of hands that reached high in the air made Hermione's legs lock where they stood. She was both horrified and mesmerized all at once. Her world was drastically spiraling out of control, and there was apparently nothing she could do to stop it.

Hermione vaguely heard Harry's voice trying to speak above the noise, but she was numb, frozen in place, despite how she had been cautioned only that morning about how things might go. She cast her eyes upon Severus and found him gazing back up at her, his black eyes still listless and hazy. The melancholy that lay behind them, however, was apparent. And it broke her heart.

Tears threatened her vision, and not even caring what was going on around them, she leaned over and kissed the top of his head, overcome with emotion. She couldn't even speak, she was so thrown by everything. All she wanted to do was hang onto him, so she brought her head to his and didn't move. The commotion happening all around them was still going on, but the pair of them had blocked out the noise.

"Severus Snape," Hermione heard Kingsley address her lover, "you are hereby detained and will be sent to Azkaban prison to await the Wizengamot Council's decision regarding sentencing you for a proper trial."

The sentence came down swift and hard. Before Hermione could fully grasp the situation, the council members were dispersing, wearing smug expressions of triumph, and two guards were progressing towards her and Severus with their wands drawn.

Hermione quickly moved in front of Severus and crouched low, cupping his face between her palms. "Severus," she uttered, not even sure what to say.

"Hermione," he returned faintly, staring straight into her eyes. He didn't seem to know what to say either, only knowing that he didn't want to unlock his gaze from hers.

"Move aside, Miss," Hermione heard one of the guards address her from behind.

She turned around with a sour expression and didn't care what they thought. "May I at least have a minute with him before you send him away?"

The two guards stared on, apprehensive and unsure, when Kingsley suddenly appeared behind them and spoke for both. "Of course you may, Miss Granger."

The Minister stared the two guards down, and they immediately scurried aside. She had to hand it to Kingsley; he could certainly be far more intimidating than Fudge ever was.

With a wave of Kingsley's wand, the magical chains that bound Severus to the chair vanished, leaving him free to stand. Severus stumbled to his feet and found himself being held up by Hermione. They could both hear Harry and Kingsley discussing the hearing, their voices low and excited, enraged at how things had taken a turn for the worst, but the two ignored them, along with everything and everyone else.

"Severus, look at me," Hermione pleaded. Once his dark eyes were focused on her, Hermione forced herself to stay strong, for him, and explained in a calm voice, "I'm going to come see you as soon as I can, all right? _We'll figure this out._ And if they decide to go to trial over this rubbish, Harry and I will put our heads together and come up with a plan to get you out of there. _This isn't over._ It's only temporary, all right?"

"Yes," came his quiet, fragile reply. It shattered her already tattered nerves to pieces.

"Severus?" she strained, trying to reach him.

"Yes, I - I know. Thank you..."

Hermione reared back a little, concerned. "You believe me, don't you?"

"I do, yes."

He didn't sound at all convincing, and Hermione felt an enormous sense of guilt overpower her. "I... I'm sorry..."

Severus arched an eyebrow and surprised her by grazing her chin with his index finger. "What have I told you about that?" he purred, giving her a half smirk.

Hermione couldn't help it. Her willingness to stay strong crumbled. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his neck. She didn't say anything, she didn't even cry, she just shook and held onto him as much as she possibly could. Severus, too, said nothing, only stared on at the two guards standing feet away, waiting to escort him to Azkaban prison.

What awaited him now, in this moment, frightened him more than anything ever had in his life. Lord Voldemort, the unsightly things he witnessed as a Death Eater, even nearly dying only two months ago had been far more a welcoming scenario than this...

"They're just scared, Severus," Hermione's unsteady voice interrupted his morbid thoughts. "They're cowards. That's why they're sending you away. They'll lament it once they see the memories and everything you did. They _have_ to."

"I... I know."

Hermione turned her face towards his and kissed him on the cheek, feeling him lean into her embrace and tighten his hold around her. "I'm going to get you out of there," he heard her promise. And, for a change, Severus didn't know how to answer her back. "We'll get you out of this, I promise, all right?"

Seeing the guards approaching again, Severus reluctantly unlocked his arms from around Hermione's back and gathered her face in his hands. His eyes were freshly urgent, frantic even, startling Hermione, who had never seen the wizard more perceivably afraid than now. It made her heart stop.

"Thank you," he stammered, hardly able to speak anymore.

Then the guards suddenly maneuvered around her and snatched Severus's hands up, removing them from her face, and Hermione panicked. His touch had been replaced by nothing but cold and emptiness.

"Wait!" she pleaded, but her voice was entirely too weak.

"C'mon," one of the guards griped, ignoring the young witch entirely. "We haven't got all day, you know."

A pair of magical chains was whisked around Severus's wrists, binding his hands together in front of him so that they couldn't move; he could no longer reach out and touch Hermione, not even one last time as a free man.

Their eyes locked on each other for a matter of seconds, and then Severus was gone—pushed past her towards a doorway on the opposite end of the courtroom, but not from where they had entered earlier that morning. "Wait...!" Hermione begged, but her voice had gone hoarse.

How was this happening? Was it all real? She could see the back of Severus's long, billowing cloak being led away, out of her grasp, out of sight, and could do nothing. He had always walked so proudly, but now his disposition was barely recognizable, as his head hung low and his feet shuffled along the floor, threatening to give way as he tried to walk straight and unaffected. He couldn't even whisk his head around to look at Hermione one final time, though he could hear her agonizing calls after him as he was led out of the room towards a bleak and uncertain future.

"Please... No. S - Severus! Please, wait..."

Her begging fell on deaf ears. She blinked once and Severus was nowhere to be found, his ominous figure disappearing into the shadows, as if he had never been there at all. Hermione remained glued to where she stood, unaware of her trembling. Her legs were ready to buckle under the strain of everything that was happening outside of her control, and only in a matter of minutes.

_What have you done?_ she wanted to cry out, but lacked the capacity. _Hermione, how could you have been so selfish?_

"Come away, dear," said Molly in a soft, comforting whisper, coming up behind the young woman and placing her arms around Hermione's shoulders.

Hermione's legs were slowly prodded to move by those around her. She mechanically allowed the Weasleys to lead her out of Courtroom Ten, but in the opposite direction from where Severus had exited. She wanted to turn around and run after him but found it difficult enough to muster the energy to move, so she didn't fight the Weasleys' efforts to rush her along.

Harry followed closely at their heels, watching his friend silently as she was escorted out of the Ministry with a blank, defeated expression that he had never seen before. He knew Hermione was in shock, but the unsettling lifelessness in her eyes—normally so open and expressive—haunted him as he strolled closely behind her.

* * *

"Have some tea, dearest. It'll help."

Hermione's eyelashes fluttered. A hot cup of tea had been placed in her hands. She tried to make sense of where she was and scanned her surroundings, but her eyesight was fuzzy.

_How did I get here?_

She was in the confined, but warm and inviting, Weasley sitting room, seated on their couch in front of the fireplace, where a roaring charm was in place, erupting the illusion of a crackling fire, despite the warm summer weather outside. It didn't matter if it wasn't real, however; it was soothing to Hermione to look upon, so she wasn't opposed to the false penetrating heat.

Harry was sitting in a sofa chair nearby, and Ginny situated herself next to Hermione on the couch. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had also come in and sat down and all were sipping their tea quietly, undoubtedly thinking over the events of that morning. To Hermione, it already felt like a distant memory.

Hermione didn't touch her tea. She couldn't. Severus was being locked away in Azkaban as they spoke. How could she sit here and sip tea when the man she loved was unjustly being thrown in prison?

_He wouldn't even be there now if it wasn't for you, you know..._

Hermione swallowed and put her cup of tea on the coffee table in front of her. She fell back and, instead, focused on the hypnotic flames dancing in the hearth.

"Hermione?" Molly addressed her after a time.

Hermione turned to her wearily. "Yes?"

Molly was looking her over in that motherly manner she always showed. It was comforting, only Hermione's mind was still too frazzled right now to be consoled.

"Would you like something to eat? You're looking a little pale."

"No. I... Thank you, I'm fine."

"How about a sandwich? Or maybe some coffee? I have some wonderful—"

"Molly," Arthur carefully chided his wife to desist. Molly scooted back in her chair and tried not to fuss, but not without difficulty.

"I'm sure seeing the memories will set things to right," Arthur offered up in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. "It certainly made an enormous difference to us and members of the Order, seeing what Severus did. The Wizengamot won't be able to refute it, especially when they realize that none of its fabricated."

Hermione didn't say anything, but Ginny did. "Dad's right. They'll have to take what he did under consideration."

"There_ is_ a bit of a problem though..." Everyone cast their eyes on Arthur, including Hermione. "You heard that council member. Regardless of Severus's intentions about Dumbledore, the fact remains that he still killed him." He quickly added, "Even if it was what the old man wanted, _and it was_, he'll probably still have to receive some sort of sentencing for that. Killing is a crime, even if it isn't murder..."

"But Dumbledore wanted him to do it," Harry insisted. "He asked Snape to—"

"Unfortunately, that doesn't make much of a difference, Harry," Molly stated quietly, shaking her head. "I wonder how Dumbledore expected Severus to weasel his way out of such a mess..."

"He didn't," Hermione spoke up, her voice echoing of bitterness. "He didn't give any thought or consideration to how it would affect Severus, let alone what might happen to him as a result."

"Maybe he didn't expect Snape to survive?"

Hermione turned to Ginny, who was giving her a pitiful look. "Maybe," she whispered back, feeling raw and disgusted all at once.

There was a considerable pause in which no one spoke. Hermione ran over several different events in her mind and soon decided that she simply couldn't sit there anymore.

"I need to see him," she stated softly, and everyone turned their attention to her, their expressions sober and serious.

Arthur put down his now empty cup of tea. "I'm afraid you'll need to get clearance for that."

"How?"

"Through Magical Law Enforcement. I'll take you myself. I know a couple people who could pull a few strings."

Harry cocked his head. "Is it hard to get permission to visit someone in Azkaban?"

"Extremely. In the past, it's hardly ever been allowed at all. Kingsley and Magical Law Enforcement are restructuring prison regulations though, starting with the Dementors."

"Dementors," Hermione blurted out unexpectedly, her eyes widening. "I thought they weren't guarding the prison anymore?"

"They aren't, but their magic is still embedded all over the place."

A wave of nausea hit Hermione's stomach. "What sort of lingering magic?"

Arthur hesitated before answer, reflecting on how best to address Hermione's worrisome inquiry. "Mainly mind torture..."

Hermione couldn't respond. She quickly averted her eyes and stared decidedly into the fireplace. Molly got to her feet and levitated everyone's empty cups—with the exception of Hermione's—out of their hands.

"How about that sandwich, dear?" she insisted, twitching nervously. "I really think you should eat something."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione replied rather robotically, "but I really should return to the Ministry. I want to see Severus, preferably as soon as possible. Do you mind taking me there now, Mr. Weasley?"

"Of course not."

"Thank you."

Hermione sighed and got to her feet. She felt mentally drained, but it didn't matter. She could only hope this would go more smoothly than she was anticipating.

"I'll come with you," said Harry, also rising from his chair. "If it comes down to it, and if you and I need to gather evidence for any kind of a trial, I should probably try to get clearance, too, shouldn't I?"

Arthur gave them both a pleasant nod and led the way out of the sitting room. They had barely reached the hallway, however, when Hermione collided with someone, a person whom she hadn't even considered might be there in the wake of everything else.

"Ron!" she gasped and tumbled backward.

Ron's blue eyes enlarged with surprise at seeing her, but then narrowed almost instantly. "Hey, 'Mione," he grumbled.

Hermione ignored his less than friendly greeting. "Nice to see you, too." She started to mosey her way past him with Harry at her heel.

"Where are you going?" the ginger asked skeptically.

"To the Ministry," Harry answered, hurrying Hermione along in an effort to avoid any further awkwardness.

"Oh... Why?"

Tired and frustrated, Hermione whipped her head around and stared her former friend down. "To see if I can get permission to visit Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" Ron scrunched up his nose. "Why?"

"Because that's where Severus is, Ron!"

"Oh." Ron blushed, and just as Hermione turned away from him to follow Arthur out the front door, Ron's next words made her stop in her tracks. "I'm not surprised. Serves him right."

Before Hermione was even aware of what she was doing, she pulled her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at Ron's face. "_What did you say?_" she demanded with an irritable snarl that made Ron stumble backward in alarm.

Harry reached out to stop Hermione by grabbing her shoulders. Arthur and Molly, who had meandered into the hallway from the kitchen, looked on in a stunned silence.

"Blimey, 'Mione, what the hell's gotten into you?" Ron groused, looking slightly frightened.

"Don't even speak to me, Ron! After that horrible stunt you pulled, you should keep your bloody trap shut!"

Ron's eyebrows tapered. "What stunt?"

Hermione's warm eyes grew fierce and hard. "_You know exactly what I'm talking about!_"

"No, I don't!"

"Rita Skeeter? _The Daily Prophet?_" Witnessing the flash of guilt that swept across Ron's freckled face, she inched closer. "You should consider yourself fortunate that I haven't told Severus, Ron. He wouldn't be nearly as restrained as I'm trying to be!"

"You call_ this_ restrained?" he snapped coolly.

"After what you did? Yes, I do!"

"Hermione?"

It was Molly who had spoken, eying her with trepidation. Hermione could perceive Ron backing down quietly and realized that neither of his parents, though privy to their son's behavior, were aware that he hadn't addressed it with Hermione as of yet.

"Your son spoke to _The Daily Prophet_ about Severus and me, that's what," Hermione hissed, unable to control her anger and resentment any longer. "Fed them all sorts of lies and disgusting rubbish about us that isn't true. And he hasn't seen fit to apologize or come forward about it either. _Thanks a lot!_"

"Ronald Weasley..." came Molly's scold of disappointment. It was hushed, but pained, and it only fueled her son's own anger, who seemed to find his footing, despite the wand that was pointed at his face.

"_He deserved it!_" Ron snarled in a manner that surprised everyone, including Hermione.

"And me, Ron? Did _I_ deserve that?"

"YES!"

Arthur stepped forward, eying Ron up and down through enlarged eyes. "What on earth has gotten into you, son?"

"Professor Snape, that's what!" Ron howled back. He gave Hermione a look of revulsion that felt more like a personal slap to the face. "He's a disgrace of a human being! And so are you for sticking by him! You and him! It's bloody disgusting! You should be ashamed, 'Mione! _ASHAMED!_"

Before anyone could so much as blink, Hermione flicked her wand and sent Ron shooting backward into the wall. He collided with the barrier so hard that several pictures came toppling down on top of him, and Ron, himself, sunk to the floor, stunned and shaken.

"C'mon, 'Mione!" Harry insisted, pushing her along out the door in haste, but not before Hermione gave Ron one last look of deep-seated hurt.

Her eyes were swimming with tears by the time she was thrust out the front door with Arthur following soon after. Molly Weasley's voice could be heard shouting at her son inside.

"I - I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley," Hermione muttered, quickly wiping at her eyes. "I didn't mean to get so angry—"

"It's all right, Hermione," Arthur surprised her with an apologetic smile. "Someone's got to put him in his place. He's been so out of sorts and pissed at the world, Molly and I are at our wits' end." He motioned ahead of them and gave her and Harry his usual friendly demeanor, ignoring the obvious screaming coming from inside his home. "Shall we?"

If Hermione weren't so infuriated, she would probably feel a little sympathetic for Ron, but after what he had done, she simply couldn't. She had never felt so wounded by the boy in her life, and, despite her all too forgiving nature, she couldn't pardon Ron's behavior this time. Not anymore.

* * *

The place was a maze and just as dark, secluded, and foreboding as Severus predicted. He had managed to escape this heinous place at the end of the First War, but only just. Being inside Azkaban prison was—Severus was undoubtedly sure—the equivalent to Hell, and he hadn't even been here but five minutes.

The impenetrable, heavy, and altogether dangerous magic within its walls would unravel anyone. Severus had grown rather used to danger, not to mention very dark places, but that didn't lessen his nerves once he walked inside and heard the heftily guarded doors slam shut behind him, the sound reverberating off the walls, informing its latest inmate that he would find no peace here.

Severus was shoved forward through a series of corridors by a handful of guards, all with their wands drawn, and all too happy to instigate fear by jeering at Severus or making off the fly comments about how he would "come to lament his wrongdoings" in such a foreboding, dark place. Severus had little doubt that they were right, but they wouldn't garner the visible satisfaction from Severus either that they wanted, and that seemed to frustrate them as they began handling him with more force and less civility.

"People who come here don't get out, Master Snape," one of them snickered in his ear as they tossed him down a flight of narrow stairs. "So get comfortable. You're in for the long haul after what you've done."

Severus didn't say anything back; only let them continue to castigate him the entire way to his cell, which, in itself, took a considerably long time to reach. A heavy metal door opened with a wave of one of the guards' wands, followed by another door made of steel bars that Severus suspected were magically enhanced to hurt the prisoner if he so much as touched them.

Severus was thrown into his cell with a severe, violent thrust. He stumbled sideways but managed not to crumble and fall. The guards cackled and sealed the doors shut, silencing the room instantly to the point of ghostly eeriness.

Severus's eyes were met with a pitch-black, enclosed space made entirely of rough stone. There was no natural light, of course, and nothing in the room, save for a single bed in the corner. It had no sheets or a pillow, only a dirty, soiled mattress that Severus knew would be highly uncomfortable. A chilly gust swept through the room from somewhere Severus couldn't place, but the cold air was enough to make him shiver on the spot.

_Perfect_, he snarled, and wrapped his cloak more securely around himself.

He strolled over to the bed, scanning his confinement in a gradual circle, allowing his eyesight to adjust to the shadows. The coldness in the room quickly grew worse, however, and did nothing for his already aching limbs.

Then Severus abruptly remembered that he didn't have his tonics. Not that he enjoyed taking them anyway, but a flicker of fear surfaced when the dark wizard realized just how debilitating his time would be here without them.

_Conserve your energy_, he told himself, even as the walls seemed to cave in on him.

His active mind wandered immediately to her, and soon his thoughts were entirely consumed by the witch. He was grateful to have her to think on, at least, and sat down on the impinging mattress that did little to ease his pained legs.

It wasn't long before his mind grew desperate, even with being more attuned to calming his mind here than others would be. He reluctantly spread out his cloak on the contaminated bed and stared at the ceiling, taking slow, even breaths that became visible against the unforgivable gust that kept filtering into the room.

"Hermione," he whispered into the darkness, doing his best to swallow his fears. "Please come. Soon..."


	51. So Sorry

**A/N: Oh my goodness, thanks for all your lovely feedback...! Wasn't expecting it. I'm glad people are still engaged in this story after 50 chaps! **

**Good days lie ahead, I swear. Until then, a little more angst and sadness for you. Not because I'm mean-spirited, but_ because it's necessary_.  
**

**It's also worth noting to all the lovelies who've read the original _Unquestionable Love_ that I've changed the timing of the hearings and length of Severus's stint in Azkaban (also changed it in the original story, too). Initially, as mentioned, there were to be two trials and about a year of Azkaban prison time.  
**

**Yeahhh, we won't be doing that. Does that bring a smile to your face? (If not, I have chocolate...?)  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 51: So Sorry**

Getting permission to visit Azkaban prison was just as difficult as Arthur Weasley had warned. Hermione ended up going back to Magical Law Enforcement several days in a row before both she and Harry were granted access. They ended up having to go to the Minster as well to see if he could use some of his authority in getting the matter settled; Kingsley didn't hesitate in granting permission to either of them, but not without a warning.

"Be careful, Miss Granger," he had cautioned her on her way out of his office. "The guards now overseeing Azkaban aren't much better than their predecessors. Many of them have an axe to grind and some personal beef with Severus Snape.

"Everyone has connections to things the Death Eaters did in one way or another. I'm afraid Severus is no exception. Don't expect to be treated too kindly, or that he will be, for that matter, but if you run into any major problems, please let me know."

Hermione was at least grateful to him for that. She could tell how guilty the man felt over how Severus's hearing had gone down, as well as at how little power and influence he ultimately held in swaying the Wizengamot in Severus's favor.

When they left the Law Enforcement Department the following morning with permission papers in hand, Harry tried to keep the conversation light, knowing how much his friend was suffering. "I thought being the Chosen One would have made me a shoo-in," he teased halfheartedly.

"Don't start abusing your top status, Harry." Hermione tried to return his remark with a smile. "Don't you have Auror training?"

"Yeah, later this morning."

Hermione stopped walking. "Harry, you don't have to keep an eye on me. I'm fine. Well, I'm not but..."

Harry eyed her over with empathy. "Anything I can do?"

"No, not at the moment, but thanks."

"Want me to talk to Ron?" he offered. She could tell he felt bad about bringing him up, but it admittedly felt strange not having Ron around anymore; a twinge of pain hit Hermione in the chest at the reminder.

"I... No, Harry. This is between him and me. He's a big boy, and he needs to start taking some responsibility."

"I know."

"You staying?"

"Yeah, probably. I got a couple things I agreed to help the Minster with, so I ought to go up and see him."

Hermione felt a bit of guilt herself at not having done much to help in the interim since the battle. But that quickly washed away when she refocused on her next steps.

"See you later?" Harry tugged her arm and gave her a smile.

"Yes. Wish me luck."

Hermione started to walk away and didn't catch the look of befuddlement on Harry's face. "Luck? For what?"

Hermione turned around, her mouth set in a determined frown. "Azkaban."

Harry's green eyes intensified. "Now?"

"Of course."

"'Mione, wait! I don't think you should go by yourself. Wait 'till I get off—"

"No, Harry, I'm not going to delay this any longer." She sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. Next time we'll go together. Don't worry about me. I can handle myself."

Without another word, Hermione strolled swiftly towards the elevators, leaving Harry stranded in the middle of a bustling, cramped corridor. He easily lost sight of his friend's wild mane amongst the crowd, and his nerves only intensified.

_Azkaban. Alone. Not smart, 'Mione_, he reflected gravely. _I hope you know what you're doing..._

* * *

As Hermione Apparated to the bottom of a series of cliffs along the Scottish coastline, she wrapped a coat around herself—the weather here felt much too cold for summer—and stalked towards a handful of guards she spotted a few yards away. The Minister had instructed her on how to get here and explained the protocol, but Hermione was more tense about this venture than she was willing to admit. She could spot the dark silhouettes of the prison guards in the distance and fought the winds that thrashed her hair against her face.

When she got relatively close, she found them all—about ten in total—observing her progression but with their wands at the ready. "State your name!" one of them bellowed above the crashing waves.

"Hermione Granger!"

"And just what do you think you're doing?" one of them asked in a tone that bordered on threatening, as he blatantly eyed her up and down.

Hermione whipped out her official permission forms from the Ministry. They whisked about in her hand and nearly flew away with the heavy current.

"I have permission papers here to visit a prisoner in Azkaban."

There was a peculiar exchange amongst the crew before one of them stepped forward and snatched the papers out of her hand. Hermione watched the guard intently as he thoroughly scanned her papers. He was an older gentleman and rough around the edges, with stone cold eyes and a strong, angular face. He cast an enchantment with his wand, which Hermione easily figured was to determine the papers' authenticity. When he was through with his inspection, the guard slowly locked eyes on her and handed them back, still looking highly suspicious.

"Prisoners aren't normally permitted visitors, Miss Granger," the gentleman issued carefully, surveying her face meticulously. It made Hermione highly uncomfortable to be under such direct, conspicuous scrutiny.

"Well, you've seen my papers. I _have_ permission."

"That doesn't automatically mean we'll grant you access."

Hermione jerked where she stood. Taking a calculated breath, she narrowed her eyes, and tried to keep her voice steady and unaffected.

"In that case, I can return to the Minister and have him sort this out if we're going to have a problem?"

Several guards behind the man shuffled their feet, clearly anxious. The man in front of her, however, gave her a defiant smirk and small shake of his head. There was something in his stance, in his sullen features, that was unsettling. Hermione could assume that it must be in the nature of his job; being a guard of Azkaban prison would, she suspected, be rough on anyone, but she still didn't appreciate the look he was giving her.

"We don't take kindly to threats," he stated simply, in a deep gruff.

"It isn't a threat, but if you're going to openly deny my visitation rights, I_ will_ involve the Minister for Magic in this matter. It seems it's going to be necessary?"

"Radimir," called one of the men over his shoulder, "c'mon. She's shown us the paperwork. Last thing we need is for _them_ to get involved."

The guard named Radimir stared at Hermione outlandishly for another agonizing minute or two before he turned on his heel and paraded away without a word. Two other guards stepped forward and motioned for her to follow them, their wands at the ready.

Hermione had spotted a large ship docked on the beach earlier, and examining it up close made it all the more intimidating. Did they purposely not use magic to access Azkaban? Hermione understood why Apparition wasn't permitted, but resorting to Muggle tactics didn't quite seem like the right kind of protocol.

The ship, covered with impenetrable protection charms, awaited her like some sort of irrevocable force. Hermione swallowed hard and entered from a side door, where she was met by two more guards who immediately stopped her in her tracks.

"Your wand, Miss," one of them demanded, pointing his own at her face.

Hermione startled. She suspected that might be a problem, but having her wand taken by any one of these men didn't sit at all well with her heightened senses.

The guard named Radimir waited for her several feet away, watching her closely. "You'll get it back after you return here."

"Um..."

"Either hand over your wand to the gentleman, Miss Granger," the man stated darkly, "or exit now. Wands are not permitted anywhere near Azkaban prison, under any circumstances, for reasons you should obviously be smart enough to understand."

Hermione wanted to narrow her eyes but was too nervous to do so. Gulping, she hesitantly removed her wand from her pocket and passed it on to the guard in front of her. It was whisked out of view as quickly as it was snatched up, leaving Hermione vulnerable and a little frightened. She was now defenseless, and considering the place she was headed, that wasn't encouraging.

Forcing a deep breath, Hermione followed Radimir up the back end of the ship, where they passed several more guards on their way to the front. Hermione thought she discerned the ship starting to move, but if being a Muggle for so many years had taught her anything, they were probably moving underwater, as the pounding waves of the North Sea would never allow for such smooth sailing.

By the time they reached the opposite end of the ship, Radimir cast a bolted side door open with his wand and trudged out into the high gust once more, signaling for Hermione to follow him with a terse nod of his head. It had taken no time at all to reach this small island in the middle of the sea, where the towering prison rose high in the air, not swaying with the violent winds or colliding waves that lapped its shores.

They were greeted by a number of additional guards as they made their way towards the arched, bolted front doors. Hermione could feel the exceedingly powerful magic of the foreboding penitentiary, pressing itself down on her like a great weight. She nearly had a headache by the time she entered the gloomy entranceway. Her neck felt stiff and every hair was standing on end.

Radimir strolled away to explain Hermione's presence to a number of sketchy-looking officials, all who asked to see her papers and double-checked them, and her, for any signs of trouble. It was tiresome, tedious, and took much longer than Hermione anticipated.

Finally, she was permitted to follow two more guards towards her destination, the place she had made a point of focusing all her energy on reaching since she set out that morning: Severus's cell. Radimir eyed her through narrow, beady eyes as she brushed passed him, but Hermione was too distracted by such a god-awful place to take notice.

Azkaban was cold—frigid, even—and possessed no natural light or color or feeling of any kind. Dark, dismal, and so ghostly quiet that all she could hear were the echoing sounds of her shoes and those of the guards making their way down a series of long hallways, Hermione only felt more uneasy the further they delved. It seemed to be taking an awfully long time to get to Severus, or maybe that was just her anxious-ridden mind playing tricks on her, but either way, it was a lengthy walk.

At last, they reached a cellblock with the numbers "19285374" engraved over the door. _Severus's number_, Hermione swallowed, her heart collapsing into the pit of her stomach. It instinctively beat faster at the prospect of what awaited her on the opposite side of the door, and she nearly shoved the guards aside once the magical doors were unlocked so that she could go inside.

"You have one hour," one of them informed her.

Hermione was met with eminent darkness and the loud slamming of the metal doors behind her. Several clicking noises and reverberations of protective enchantments sealed the place shut and cast the small room into an unnerving silence and seclusion.

Hermione's sight had barely adjusted to the darkness when she heard that familiar low voice, only it sounded raspy and cracked. "Hermione?"

Her eyes trailed to a corner of the room a few feet away, where a figure was sitting on a mattress, propped up against the wall with his knees drawn to his chest and his arms and cloak swaddled around his body for warmth. Hermione could see his breaths floating into the air, catching the icy chill within the room, but she couldn't make out his face from where she stood.

"_Severus!_" she exclaimed, and ran to him instantly.

Hermione nearly collided with the seated wizard, as she still couldn't see very well, and felt the wonderful sensation of his arms wrapping themselves around her; only she was abruptly startled when they embraced. She expected warmth, but he was freezing, and his body was shivering quite violently. When one of her cheeks met his, she was alarmed by how frozen his skin felt against her own. She immediately reared back and squinted in the shadows to make him out.

Before she could say anything, however, Severus spoke first. "I can't believe... You're here?" he murmured in awe.

"Of course, Severus!" Despite his unsettling condition, she leaned in and earnestly kissed his lips, also cold; they trembled against her mouth. "I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner! I'm so, so sorry! It took much longer to get permission than I expected it to. It was so frustrating, Severus. I had to go to Kingsley and get—"

"It's all right," he reassured her quietly, hugging her as close to him as possible. "I... I wasn't sure...if you'd be able to... I'm so glad you're here."

Hermione could sense how desperately relieved he was, and it made her chest ache. She squeezed him back and nuzzled her face against his.

"Me, too." She paused, her eyes on the brink of tears. "This place is ghastly, Severus. Just dreadful..."

"I know, dear. It is what it is."

"Are you all right?" She let out a grunt and pressed him further. "Sorry, what a ridiculous question. I'm so sorry."

Severus surprised her by chuckling faintly against her ear. "You're getting worse, you know that?"

Hermione wanted to laugh—she really did—but couldn't. Holding and being held in such a place as this had sucked any lightheartedness out of her. She pinched her eyes shut and stifled her soft cries into his coat.

"It's so good to see you," he whispered, his rough voice catching in his throat as he tried to ignore his body's reaction to the cold.

"It's good to see you, too. I've been so worried about you."

"And I, you."

When his voice wavered, Hermione instinctively wove her arms around him tighter, her fingers digging into the back of his coat. "You sound terrible."

Severus grunted. "I've been worse."

"Yes, I - I know..." She felt the fabric of his cloak being thrown across her back and snuggled into the nook of his neck, pecking his cheek several times, which he reciprocated. "I'm sorry. It's quite cold in here. You should have my cloak—"

"I'm fine, love. Don't worry about me." Hermione drew back to gather his hands in hers from behind her back, disturbed by how frozen they were. "But you... You're as cold as ice." She tried to warm his hands with hers, breathing on them to try to stimulate some much needed heat.

"I'll be all right." He wasn't at all convincing, and it caused her frown to deepen.

"No, you're shivering, Severus, and you don't sound or look at all well. Have you slept?"

Hermione already suspected his answer before it came. "Not much, no," he managed through another violent tremor. "But you—"

"What about your symptoms? Strange temperament, shortness of breath, chest pain?"

"Hermione, stop. Tell me about—"

"_Answer me_, Severus, please?" she insisted, consumed with worry the more she looked him over. His shaking was relentless, his lips were blue, and he sounded both exhausted and hoarse. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Hermione, _really_."

Hermione knew that wasn't true, but remembering she only had an hour with him, she quickly fell back into his embrace and pressed herself into him, wanting to be near. "I'll see what I can do about getting your tonics to you next time I'm here, all right?"

"Please, Hermione, enough. Tell me how _you're_ doing, would you?"

"I... I'm all right."

"That's not very reassuring."

His response was austere and apprehensive. Hermione snorted and peered up at him.

"Well, you're in here. How am I supposed to feel?"

"You should be making plans."

Hermione squinted, confused. "Pardon?"

"What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean, Severus?"

"_Your future_, Hermione," Severus emphasized before he proceeded to shake again. "Have you given any thought to what you're going to do? If you haven't, you need to."

"Severus, what on earth— You were just sent away here! What kind of a question is that—"

"You need to start thinking about yourself, Hermione. I mean it."

Hermione's shoulders tensed. "Severus, stop this. What—"

"I'm not around to look after you. You... You need to start taking care of yourself. Think about the future—what you want to do, where you want to go, where you—"

"_Go?_" Hermione was shaken by Severus's heavy-handed remarks. "Severus, I'm not going anywhere. Right now, Harry and I need to focus on getting you out of here. If the Wizengamot—"

"I'm sure they'll want to have a proper trial," Severus interrupted, his morose comment upsetting her further. "I... I've had a lot of time to think things over in here the past few days. Regardless of what they see from my memories, Hermione, I'll still need to stand trial for my actions."

"Severus—"

"I killed a man, Hermione; regardless of whether it was his wish or not, no matter what purpose his death served to us, _I still killed a man_. That can't be undone, and it is a crime. They won't let that go, love. Legally, they can't."

"But..." Hermione was lost for words.

All she could do was latch onto Severus's buttons and stare deep into his troubled eyes. Before she knew it, a deeply buried hatred emerged, looming in her eyes and in her reply.

"I despise him..."

Severus's brow furrowed. "What?"

"_Dumbledore!_" Hermione felt a heat trickle up her neck and onto her cheeks, making them burn with an inner fury long suppressed. "He gave no consideration to what you might endure at his expense! _He's lucky he's gone!_ He doesn't have to see the aftermath of everything his decisions caused us; what it's done to _you!_ And to me..."

Hermione suddenly couldn't look at Severus anymore. She swiftly turned away from him and bit her lip, willing herself not to break down. This wasn't why she had come to see him. She wanted to offer the poor man some hope; to keep him focused and strong. Instead, she was crumbling.

One of the dark wizard's trembling hands tightened around her arm, the other mapping its way across her shoulders. "Hermione," he urged close to her face, "what is it?"

Hermione hesitated but soon caved. She leaned into him, brought her legs up onto the bed, and allowed Severus to re-swaddle her in his arms. She knew she shouldn't; she didn't deserve such comforts from _him_. She had brought him to this, after all...

"Hermione?" Severus repeated, sounding worried.

"I... I'm so sorry," she whispered; her voice was feeble and broken, and Severus instinctively hugged her more securely.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because I..." Hermione mustered the courage to meet his eyes and detected how startled he was to find her on the verge of losing her composure; she knew she didn't deserve such worry from the man either. "I did this to you..."

Severus's black eyes flickered. "What?" he slowly breathed, stunned.

"I... I brought you to this, Severus. If I hadn't begged you to stay alive... If I hadn't been so selfish and inconsiderate and horrible, you wouldn't... You wouldn't be going through all this. I love you, but I've been so unforgivably selfish. _I'm so sorry..._"

A selection of tears cascaded down Hermione's cheeks, and, as Severus stared down at her, it was his turn to be rendered speechless by his lover's words. Was she actually apologizing for saving his life? Did she truly believe she was selfish for _not_ letting him die, just so he might be spared everything that followed?

He brought his fingers to her lips, which he traced thoughtfully before he spoke. "Hermione," Severus whispered after he found his voice, "how can you say that?"

Hermione sniveled and reared back. "Wha - What?"

"Don't you see? You make me _want_ to live. _You_ are worth living for. I thought you knew that?"

Severus could tell that the young witch's mind was fighting him. She knew, but didn't want to accept. Her lower lip proceeded to shake.

"I... But..."

"I didn't want to die, Hermione. Even if I had never gotten to know you, even if I wasn't fortunate enough to have your kindness and assistance that night, I_ still_ wouldn't have wanted to die...

"For the longest time, I thought I did. I thought I was prepared, and ready, for death. I longed for it so many times. I prayed to find the will to do it myself. But I was a coward; even when I was lying there dying, I was a coward. At the very end."

Severus brought his forehead to hers, giving her the most reassuring smile he could. "You changed all that about me, Hermione. _You made me want to live_, more than you could possibly know."

"But Severus—"

"I was able to have two more months with you that I wouldn't have had otherwise, if you hadn't saved my life. All of it was worth it to me, Hermione, I promise you. I... I know it must have been a lot more difficult for you, but—"

Hermione's eyes suddenly widened. "No, no! That's not what I meant!"

"I know, Hermione. I just..." Severus touched his large nose to hers. "I don't want you to ever regret any of this."

"I don't, _honest!_" Hermione brought a hand to his cold cheek and caressed it gently. "But everything you've gone through—your illness, all the physical and emotional suffering, that hearing, all of it—it's... It's all because of me, Severus. _It's my fault._ I put you here—"

"No, Hermione."

"—because I was too selfish to let you go. I'm so sorry, Severus. Please don't..."

Hermione's voice trailed off. She enfolded her arms around his neck and hid her face. A few of her curls brushed Severus's face. Her silence was excruciating.

"Don't what?" he pressed her after too long of a silence.

When her answer finally came, it was pained and hushed. "Please don't resent me for doing what I did? _Please?_"

Severus placed a hand behind her head and kissed her cheek, wrapped up in her warmth. "Hermione, of course I won't," he insisted, but she wasn't ready to concede.

"I... I only did it because I love you..."

"I _know_ you did. I would have done the same."

"I know you would..."

"Then don't apologize," Severus reprimanded her with a fragile hiss. "You do enough of that unnecessarily as it is."

"But I mean it, Severus. I... I feel so ashamed for putting you here."

Severus's fingers inadvertently dug into her shoulders, his arms pressing her petite frame into his chest. "Hermione, look at me."

It took a long moment for her face to emerge, but, even in the shadows, he could make out those distinctive, saddened caramel irises, now shimmering and wet, and supple lips that pouted and trembled. Several thick curls fell around her eyelashes, and Severus took one of them into his hands and twirled it around his finger. He wasn't even aware of doing so, but Hermione noticed.

"I understand where this guilt of yours is coming from all too well, but I _must_ insist that you let it go. You didn't put me here. _I_ put myself here."

"Severus, no—"

"Just hear me out," he insisted with more feeling, and Hermione's mouth fell shut. "Even if you and I had never gotten involved with one another, had I still somehow miraculously survived the war without your help, I'd _still_ be answering for what I've done. That wouldn't change. _This_ situation wouldn't be any different. Only I wouldn't have you to think on, and that brings me far more comfort than you could possibly know."

Hermione lowered her eyes and shook her head. The guilt was etched all over her pretty countenance, and it not only depressed Severus to see her feeling so down, it angered him, too. Or was that really him at all? He could feel his temper getting the better of him, and yet, it didn't feel entirely within his own control.

"Hermione..."

Hermione glanced up at him, and her expression morphed into one of confusion. Severus's dark eyes had constricted, and his mouth was sneering most unpleasantly.

"Severus?"

"You... You should go."

"What?" Hermione gasped, shocked and a bit injured. "_Why?_ I just got here!"

"I..."

He pushed her away a little too roughly—for him—and stumbled to his feet, leaving Hermione stranded on the bed. She stared up at him, bewildered, until she realized what was happening. Slowly getting to her feet, she watched Severus pace back and forth, his eyes fixated, every feature of his face evidently struggling to maintain control. His hands were shaking, no longer from the cold but from the inner rage that was slowly taking over his body.

"Severus?" Hermione timidly extended an arm to him, but he jerked back, his eyes flashing.

The exchange frightened her. There was a dangerous flicker that swept across his eyes, mixed with a caution and panic that was reminiscent of the man she knew.

"_Guard!_" Severus called, though it came out strained and unnatural. "She's finished with me! Let her out!"

"What?" Hermione jolted. "No, Severus! Don't send for them yet!"

"Get out of here," he responded much weaker than before; so much so that it startled her. She started to rush towards him, but he threw up his hands to stop her and collapsed against the wall. "I'm not myself. Go now, _please!_"

"Severus, I've been through this with you many times—"

"You don't have your wand!"

It was only then that Hermione understood his panic. He was afraid of hurting her, and she had nothing to defend herself with this time. He had never harmed her before when these strange episodes occurred, but Hermione still felt relatively concerned at not having something to prevent Severus from hurting himself.

As fleetingly as those fears entered Hermione's mind, Severus clasped his hands to his head and let out a torn groan of agony, as if he were having a migraine. His eyes were pinched shut and he stumbled to the ground, just as the sound of some muffled voices outside his cell could be heard.

"Severus!" Hermione crouched down in front of him and gripped her hands over top of his, but he wouldn't open his eyes. "Severus, fight it!"

"I...can't!" The words were practically ripped from the back of his throat.

"Severus, I have no idea what this is, but you need to fight against it; try to control it."

"_I can't!_" he growled so ferociously that Hermione jumped back a fraction.

"What's going on? Talk to me!"

"It...hurts!"

"What hurts?"

"Chest!" he rasped. "My - My head! _My head!_"

"Severus—"

The heavy metal doors suddenly swung open, and Hermione felt the shields of protective enchantments surrounding Severus's cell being momentarily lifted as three guards with drawn wands came charging through the doorway. They stopped when they spotted the pair of them on the ground.

Hermione had barely time to react, however. Severus screamed, his hands flailing madly. He threw Hermione's hands off of him and pounded the wall.

"_STOP!_" commanded one of the guards.

Before Hermione could so much as blink, a blast of light shot out of the man's wand and hit Severus square in the chest. He fell sideways onto the hard ground and immediately gasped for air.

"Wait!" Hermione cried, even though it was too late; she threw up her hands to stop them from advancing on him. "_DON'T!_ He's not hurting me!"

"Then what the hell's the matter with him?"

Hermione ignored the guard and scooted closer to Severus. Despite his heavy wheezing, he slammed his hands down on the ground several times, cursed loudly, and clamped his hands to his head.

"Severus, don't!"

She reared over him and tried to grab his arms, but Severus's body thrashed and sent her backwards. Still screaming, Severus's turned onto his side, drew his knees up to his chest and clawed at his face. The guards stared on, wide-eyed and stunned.

"What the hell?" one of them murmured, inching closer with his wand pointed at Severus's back.

"Get away from him!" Hermione spat, desperate to keep any one of them from using their wands again.

Ignoring Severus's cries of pain as best she could, she bent over him and attempted to move his hands away from his face, but he squirmed and fought her every effort. She thought she heard one of the guards run out of the room, and her heart instinctively beat faster. That couldn't be good, wherever he ran off to.

"Severus! Listen to me!" she exclaimed close to face, ignoring his nasty sputters; they weren't him at all, which made it more frightening. "Stop it! You're going to hurt yourself! Or one of these men will hurt you!"

"_LET ME GO!_" he roared, his voice filling the room to capacity.

"Hush—"

"NO! _GET AWAY FROM ME!_"

Hermione flinched. He had told her off like that before when he wasn't himself, but the sheer force he used made it far more terrifying and unrecognizable. For an instant, Hermione was paralyzed and could do nothing but stare down at the wizard she loved, now growling and gasping and tearing at every part of his face; he was beyond her reach.

"Severus, stop! Please!" she tried to urge him, pulling his hands away as best she could. "You're hurting yourself—"

"NO! Enough! _ENOUGH!_"

Hermione reared back in time to avoid him hitting her face. His arms flailed in front of him, waving helplessly and reaching for nothing in particular, but then a jet of white light him hard in the chest again, knocking the wind out of him.

Hermione whipped her head around to scowl at whichever guard had performed the spell, but her eyes met the disturbing sight of the head guard, Radimir. His wand was directed at her and Severus, his hard face menacing and controlled as he surveyed the defenseless wizard on the ground, who had abruptly stopped cursing and hollering. Now, he merely breathed heavily, trying to get air back into his lungs.

Before Hermione could say anything, however, Radimir cast another spell upon Severus. Hermione barely caught sight of Severus being thrown onto his stomach with his arms latched behind his back. A pair of magical chains bound his wrists and ankles together, and Hermione's eyes were horrified to discover steam rising from his constrains.

"Wait!" she cried out. "_NO!_"

Hermione saw Severus's face look at her for a fleeting moment, and this time, it was the Severus she knew. That brought her little relief, however, for his face winced in pain, his mouth only just managing to suppress any audible cries of distress as his bindings began to burn his flesh.

"Please, stop!" she begged, placing a hand on Severus's back. "This isn't necessary!"

"We will determine what's necessary or unnecessary when it comes to our prisoners, Miss Granger," came Radimir's cool, emotionless reply.

The head guard was entirely disinterested in Severus's suffering, even as the heat from the shackles started to melt his skin and dissolve the fabric of his boots. Severus finally let out a painful grunt and inhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut.

Hermione couldn't take it anymore and didn't care at all how desperate she sounded. "_PLEASE, STOP!_" she begged, her eyes narrowed and damp. "He's sick! He can't help it! _Please!_"

"He was screaming and lashing out, Miss Granger," Radimir hissed, keeping his wand pointed. "Therefore, he must be reprimanded. We don't tolerate prisoners acting out."

"He wasn't lashing out at you or anyone else!" Hermione pleaded. "He was only hurting himself! STOP IT! _NOW!_"

There was an excruciatingly long pause—at least, for Hermione—before Radimir decided to vanish the hot magical chains. They disappeared, and Severus's body slackened. His arms fell to the ground, and he remained still and silent against the cold ground as he attempted to catch his breath. His wrists were bleeding, but none of the guards seemed to care.

"That will be all," Radimir decided, nonchalant.

He walked out of the cell without addressing Hermione again, and the two guards that remained followed suit. When she chanced a glare at the doorway, she caught an eerie glimpse of the head guard's silhouette looming just outside, watching them both closely, before he whipped his wand in a circle and the doors were cast shut again, filling the room with a stifling silence that was only somewhat broken by Severus's labored breaths.

"Severus," Hermione brought her face close to his and looped an arm around his back, still somewhat fearful of what he might do, "are you all right?"

"Y - Yes," he replied weakly.

"You had another fit."

"Wha - What did I do?"

"The same as the other times, love."

"Did I..." He paused to draw breath, his frantic eyes searching hers. "Did I hurt you?"

Hermione helped ease him into a sitting position and propped him against her shoulder. "No, Severus. You told me to piss off."

"I - I did?"

"Yes."

There was a pause, and Hermione suspected what was coming. "I'm sorry..." he apologized, sounding painfully ashamed.

Hermione shook her head and kissed his brow, now covered in sweat, and hugged him close. "We both sound like a pair of broken records today," she teased in an attempt to lighten the mood. It was useless. She had never felt more depressed.

"I... I'm still sorry..."

Hermione gripped him tight and kissed him again. "I _know_ you are, love. It's all right. It's over now. Try to relax." She waited for him to say something, to give her some sign of his returning strength, but, instead, he convulsed in her arms, the unpardonable chill in the room penetrating his limbs again. Gathering him more securely in her arms, she whispered close to his face, "I promise I'll bring you your tonics next time. You can't go too long without them."

"You'd ha - have to get cl - clearance for that..."

That thought infuriated her. What was she going to do? Even if Severus only stayed until the following week, he clearly couldn't make it through a day without some kind of relief.

"I'll work on that, Severus. Don't worry."

"Hermione, you do - don't have to. You - You've already done enough f - for me—"

"Quiet, you," she insisted, reclining her head against his. "Let's take this one day at a time, all right?"

Severus buried his face in her shoulder, his limp hair falling forward to conceal his profile from view. Hermione attentively brushed the straggly strands back behind his ear and rubbed his cheek. The stabbing pang in the middle of her chest matched her miserable mood. Just being in this place a half hour was already affecting her mind and filling it with hopelessness.

"I'm going to get you out of here, Severus," she tried to reassure him, and herself, though her declaration came out shakily, "one way or another. I'm going to get you out, you hear? _I promise_."

* * *

Hermione returned later that afternoon to Spinner's End for the first time since the hearing. She hadn't been there in nearly four days. Walking into the empty house made it feel far less like home than at the start; the only comfort she found was receiving Crookshanks into her arms, but even he couldn't dull the terrible ache she felt all over her body.

"Sorry, Crooks," she addressed him miserably. "You must be starved."

His hissy meow told her exactly that. He quickly catapulted out of her arms, demanding his mistress feed him at once.

The place was dark, but Hermione couldn't will herself to draw back the curtains or open any of the windows to let in the gentle summer breeze. Severus had always kept the place dark, and she didn't want to change that. Not when something so simple reminded her of him...

Just feeling his magic surrounding the place made her more despondent than ever. Could she even stay here? Everywhere she turned, there were reminders of the man. It just made her feel hollow and empty, like she had received the Dementor's kiss.

After attending to Crookshanks, Hermione climbed the stairs to the bedroom she and Severus had shared for only a week and crawled underneath the covers, emotionally spent. But as soon as her head hit the pillow, she thought of Severus suffering in Azkaban, in that wretched, cramped, freezing cell with only a soiled mattress to rest his head upon, and she wanted to be sick.

_How can you lay here, Hermione?_ her mind scolded her, which she thought was more than fair, despite everything Severus had told her. _How can you lie in his bed while he's in prison, and all because of you? How dare you! You selfish, inconsiderate witch. How dare you..._

Hermione let out a worn moan and scrambled out of the warm bed covers. She slunk to the floor and laid down on the hardwood, which felt far less comfortable, but appropriate.

_That's more like it, you good for nothing wench._

Hermione whimpered softly, despite her fatigue. There was some faint pitter pattering along the hallway outside, and she soon felt a familiar feline tuck himself in next to her, purring gently, as if sensing that it was solace his mistress needed now more than ever.

Eventually, with the lulling of Crookshank's purrs mixed with her own subdued cries, Hermione succumbed to sleep, her body curled up on the floor in self-punishment for the rest of the day and into the night.

* * *

"Mrs. Weasley!"

Hermione was shocked to find the plump woman suddenly standing in the middle of the fireplace, carrying a handful of items under one arm. She quickly wiped the soot off her clothes and scrambled out of the hearth to greet her.

"Sorry, dear, I would have sent word, but I was worried, and afraid you'd turn me away." Noticing the visible shock on Hermione's face, she explained, "Harry gave me the password. I'm relieved it wasn't changed. I think it's safe to say it would be very like Severus to change it."

Hermione projected a small smile. "You're right, that would be like him."

Molly brought a handful of wrapped items out from underneath her arm. "Bread, bangers and mash, roast beef soup, and mince pies. I'm sure you haven't been eating, dear, so I took the liberty of cooking everything for you. All you have to do is heat it up."

"Oh, thank you." Hermione took the contents gratefully; it was true, she hadn't been taking care of herself. Food had been the furthest thing from her mind. "Would you like some tea? I'm making vanilla chai."

"Sure, dear, that would be nice."

Hermione suspected there was more to Molly's unexpected visit. She couldn't deny that she felt far too exhausted to give out more explanations about her and Severus, but the woman had made her a handful of meals, and, if she were going to stay a while, the subject was bound to surface.

Hermione led them both into the kitchen and attended to the tea whilst Molly made herself comfortable. "It's brighter in here than I would have imaged," said Molly, drawing attention to the pale yellow wallpaper. "It's quite charming, actually. Who'd have thought?"

Hermione gave the witch another warm smile and levitated the hot tea to the center of the table, along with cream and sugar. Once both women had taken a pause to sip their tea accordingly, Molly leaned in and eyed Hermione seriously.

"How are you holding up, dear?"

"Not very well." Hermione found that confession easier to admit to Molly than most. "I've been trying to get clearance from Azkaban to bring Severus a few things that he needs, but they keep denying me over and over again. I've been to Law Enforcement several times in the past three days, and, still, _nothing_."

"Have you tried speaking to Kingsley?"

"Yes... He's been out of his office every time I've tried though. He's busy, and I can't keep going to the Minister for Magic every time I have a problem."

"He's not just the Minister, dear," Molly tried to point out reassuringly. "He's a member of the Order, and he's also our friend. I'll have Arthur speak to him as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley; that would be helpful. I need to get these things to Severus as soon as possible."

Molly angled her head curiously. "What things?"

"His tonics. I got Healer Pye to write up a letter explaining why Severus needs them, what they are, and what they do. So far, it's made no difference. His room is freezing, too, so I wanted to bring him some blankets and a pillow, at least. He has nothing to sleep on but a bug-infested mattress with no sheets. He hasn't been sleeping, and the chill in his room can't be doing him any favors."

"I'm so sorry, dear," Molly replied gravely, her frown growing. "That all sounds horrific."

"It is."

"When is the Wizengamot reconvening?"

"Wednesday."

"That soon?" Molly arched her eyebrows. "Well, seeing those memories should put things to right, I'm sure."

Hermione knew the kindhearted woman was trying to be positive, but Hermione was already getting tired of pretending. In some ways, she felt just as hopeless and morose as Severus, and not on account of being around the Slytherin so much. The situation really _did_ feel futile at this juncture. If she couldn't even bring the man something to keep him warm, who was to say that the Wizengamot Council wouldn't simply keep him there, if nothing but to save themselves and satisfy their own misgivings about the press and the rest of the wizarding world.

Hermione rubbed her bloodshot eyes and stared down at the steam rising from her cup. "Dear, you don't look well," came Molly's soft commentary. Her doting eyes looked Hermione over with her usual motherly demeanor, appropriately worried and concerned.

"I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping much."

"I can tell." There was a lengthy pause that Hermione didn't pay any mind to. She was lost in her own thoughts, until Molly piped up unexpectedly, "You really love him, don't you?"

The witch's rhetorical question took Hermione by surprise. Hermione fluttered her eyelashes and tried to focus in on the redhead sitting across from her, whom she regarded as a second mother.

"Yes, I do," she returned in a hushed whisper that bordered on despair.

"How did it happen?" Her prying was gentle enough, but her eyes were unmistakably intense and intrigued.

"I don't know how, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione grumbled. "It just happened. I fell in love with Severus, and he fell in love with me."

"I'm not judging you, dear."

"Really?" Even with Molly, Hermione found that hard to fathom. "Everyone else is."

"That's not entirely true..."

"Well, regardless, it's none of their business."

"I agree," Molly affirmed by nodding her head. "It isn't. That's for you and Severus to decide."

A newfound interest emerged in Hermione's eyes. She placed her chin in her hand and surveyed Molly curiously.

"You knew him before all this?"

Molly took a moment to sip her tea before answering. "Yes, I got to know him a little during the First Wizarding War, when he joined the Order. He was quite young then; he'd just started working at Hogwarts as a professor, and I thought he seemed a little too inexperienced for the job. But then, I didn't know much about him, and he wasn't exactly outgoing at any of our meetings. He kept his distance; didn't say much unless it was requested of him. He and Sirius, of course, were always butting heads, but that was as about as lively as Severus got around any of us."

At this, Hermione's interest heightened. "Did he talk to you at all? Did he confide in anyone?" She suspected Severus hadn't—he had told her so himself at one time—but getting an outsider's perspective, and from someone outside of the Marauders, for that matter, was more than a tad intriguing to her.

"No, he didn't. He was very aloof, direct and to the point, but I thought it was quite obvious that the poor man had been suffering. There was something in his eyes... I mentioned it to Arthur once, and he thought the same. Something quite sad, even tragic...

"More than once our paths crossed after Order meetings. I was tempted to try to speak to him; maybe get him to open up a little bit if he wished. I was always hospitable, but never pushy, and he made it pretty clear he didn't want anything from any of us."

"He stuck around after meetings?"

"Only a few times, usually to speak privately with Dumbledore. Most gatherings were at the Burrow. He'd wait in our kitchen and never make a sound as I cleaned and tidied things up. He seemed always lost in reflection, or distracted. I understand why; he was a spy, after all. That had to have been tough on him."

"It was. Very much so."

Molly brought the tea to her lips. "Has he shared much of that with you?"

"Bits and pieces. I'm not sure if Severus will ever be fully capable of sharing everything he went through with me. It's really hard for him to talk about. I'm not even sure I _want_ to know everything..."

Molly shook her head, though it almost looked like she was shivering. "I can't say that I blame you. I wouldn't want to either."

"He doesn't mean to be cold," Hermione explained sadly, cradling her hands around her warm cup after a period of silence passed between them. "His childhood was miserable, Mrs. Weasley. His parents were emotionally absent, his father abused and tormented him, he was relentlessly teased at school just for being who he was, and he had no one to confide in after losing Lily; she was his one and only friend. He was brought up not knowing how to communicate or socialize properly; he had little guidance and didn't know love or affection. That's why he appears so distant and removed. He can't help it. It's the way life has always been for him. He's just very misunderstood."

Hermione could see the maternal sadness lurking behind Molly's eyes. If there was one individual who had no problem showering others with affection, it was Molly Weasley. Her frown deepened considerably as she reflected over what Hermione had shared.

"Well, I daresay that all makes sense. I had suspicions that something cruel might have happened to him in his past, but I'm not one to speculate. I just knew him to be rather unfriendly, but that there were probably reasons for it. And being a spy for the Order, I suspected some of his rigidness had to come from such a dangerous life."

Hermione's eyes darted to the table. "And this past year?" she pressed quietly, not sure if she was ready to hear Molly's thoughts about Severus's unpopular stint as Headmaster. "The way Severus treated Ginny and others?"

There was a lull in the conversation, which made Hermione anxious, but she waited patiently for Molly to speak. "I didn't hate him, Hermione, if that's what you're worried about. I didn't like the man at all, make no mistake, but it takes an awful lot for me to hate someone. I don't appreciate what he put my daughter and other students through, but I can't imagine you being in love with a man like that if there wasn't more to the story. I only got a small glimpse of it in those memories, but I'd venture to guess—and correct me if I'm wrong—that Severus laments what he did."

"That's not even the half of it," Hermione whispered, a dispirited pout forming along her mouth. "He _does_ regret it, Mrs. Weasley. He never wanted to hurt anyone..."

"Well, he doesn't seem like the type to offer an apology very often, and Ginny told me of the apology he gave her. I appreciate that."

"I assure you, Mrs. Weasley, he meant it, even if his sincerity doesn't read as such."

Molly bowed her head slightly. "I believe you."

It was those words alone that struck Hermione rather unexpectedly, and she found herself shaken and tearing up. She quickly wiped at her eyes to prevent any tears from falling, but it was little use trying to hide her feelings in front of Molly. The woman gave her a faint smile and eyed her thoughtfully for a time, the two enjoying a quiet exchange of understanding.

"How are you doing, Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione made the point of asking, making sure that she sounded both interested and respectful. "I'm so sorry that I haven't been... Well, I've thought about you, Mr. Weasley, George, and everyone often enough. I hope you're doing all right?"

"Thank you, Hermione." Molly's voice sounded much weaker than before, almost constrained, which dismayed the young witch to hear. It was prevalent in her newly forlorn expression as well. "We're doing about as well as can be expected... Each passing day is a struggle, but I find, each day, it also gets a little easier. We're doing the best that we can."

Hermione hardly knew what to say. What did one say to a mother who's lost a child? Hermione hardly knew. She was finding a post-war world nearly just as bleak as when Lord Voldemort had been alive. When would things get easier? When would she and Severus and everyone they knew ever be able to move forward with their lives?

"Is there..." Hermione took in a calculated breath to keep her voice steady. "Is there anything I can do for you, Mrs. Weasley?"

To her surprise, Molly considered her question silently for a moment before giving her a warm smile. "I'm afraid not, dear, but thank you. Actually, there is something you can do for me..."

Hermione put her elbows on the table. "Certainly."

"Eat all that food I brought you, all right? I spent a great deal of time making it, and I have no interest in seeing all my efforts go to waste."

Hermione couldn't exactly laugh, though she knew that's what Molly wanted, but she could at least return the woman's pleasantness with a smile of her own. "I will, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you."

"Bring some of it to Severus. There's more than enough for both of you, and Merlin only knows what kind of nutrients he's getting in that god-awful place."

"Let's hope Mr. Weasley can get me permission to bring him a gourmet meal, in that case."

"Indeed. I'll make sure he mentions it!"

After the two finished their tea and Molly went to take her leave, she stopped before the fireplace and gathered Hermione's face in her hands. As she stared into the witch's caramel eyes, far too sad and defeated for one so young, she shook her thick, red tresses and heaved a burdensome sigh.

"Take care of yourself, all right?"

"I will," Hermione replied, though she sounded quite weak, even to her.

Molly extended her smile and scanned Hermione's face thoroughly. "Come and see us sometime soon, will you? You're always welcome, even if my son is..."

Hermione jerked at the mere mention of Ron. She still felt far too bitter and resentful over what her old friend had done, but she swallowed her hurt as best she could, for Molly's sake.

"I know. Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, I will."

"I'll speak to Arthur as soon as he gets home; see what he can do to help you and Severus out."

"Please thank him for me."

"Of course, dear. It's nothing."

Molly brushed Hermione's cheek affectionately and then turned her back and walked into the fireplace to Floo back to the Burrow, leaving Hermione alone again in Spinner's End.

Drained from_ that_ conversation, Hermione collapsed on the couch, where she was shortly joined by her furry, four-legged companion. "He'll come home, Crooks," she muttered woefully, her voice catching at the back of her throat. "If he doesn't, I'll never forgive myself..."

* * *

**A/N: ...Chocolate? Anyone?**


	52. Reality and Expectancy

**A/N: I've been handing out chocolate like it's early Halloween, but I think you'll get some relief in this chapter. ;)  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 52: Reality and Expectancy**

Hermione was eventually given permission to bring Severus the tonics and items she had been fighting to get to him, but it took much longer than expected. The pending decision upon whether or not to bring Severus to trial was postponed more than once, heightening Hermione's fragile state. Many times, she locked herself away at night and cried herself to sleep, letting out much of the suffering that she couldn't bare to show in front of him, or anyone else.

It had been nearly three weeks that Severus had been in Azkaban prison, and, although Hermione had been able to see him three more times since, she had not been permitted to bring him anything. Until now. Thanks to Arthur Weasley's pulling strings with a few chaps he knew in Law Enforcement, Hermione was finally given permission papers for the items in question, and she didn't waste any time. She rushed back to Azkaban.

The trip proved more of an annoying excursion to get there than she ever imagined it would be. The guards, including their commander, whom Hermione discovered went by the full name of Radimir Rowdon, took their good old time inspecting every single item she brought with her, staring her down with their dark, suspicious eyes before finally giving her the go-ahead to be led to Severus's cell.

They weren't at all pleased that one of their prisoners was, to them, receiving "special treatment," but Hermione couldn't care less. To her, a few blankets, a pillow, and medicine were hardly special treatment but, rather, necessities. She hadn't seen Severus in nearly a week and was both anxious and nervous to find out how he was holding up.

Entering the darkened, frigid cell, Hermione squinted. She didn't have to wait long to figure out where Severus was.

"Hermione?" came a very hoarse voice feet away; Hermione's heart sank. He had been sounding worse and worse each time she visited, and it wasn't encouraging.

"Hey, you," she replied thoughtfully.

Spotting Severus propped up on the mattress with his only source of warmth, his cloak, wrapped around him—he hadn't worn it properly in weeks—Hermione sat down in front of him with her small, beaded bag in hand. Even without any light, she could make out Severus's curious expression in the shadows.

"What's that?" he asked; he sounded quite ill, much to her dismay.

"I brought you some things I promised you."

She caught his flicker of surprise and smiled, trying to remain positive. The entire length of her arm disappeared into the bag, from which she extracted a handful of very thick, heavy-woven blankets that she pulled out one by one. She took out two pillows as well and, lastly, a vast number of tonics, all bundled safely in a box that she placed carefully on the stone floor beside him.

"You got clearance for all of this?" He sounded shocked.

"Believe it. It was a headache and a half. Thank Mr. Weasley for having good connections in Law Enforcement."

"Oh?"

Severus raised his eyebrows before being overrun by a series of violent coughs that shook his whole frame. Hermione immediately brought herself closer and wrapped an arm around his torso. When the coughing subsided, she eased her head underneath his chin.

"You sound worse, Severus."

"I'll be all right."

"Liar."

"It's just a cough."

"Yeah, well, you better take these tonics. I worked really hard to get them for you—"

"Thank you." His gratitude was rough, raspy, and made Hermione's blood run cold. His lips kissed the top of her head a few times in appreciation, and she instinctively leaned into him, despite how unnervingly cold he felt.

"There's no need," she returned, rubbing her cheek against the array of buttons on his chest. "How are you feeling?"

"Bloody cold," he offered back, making her genuinely laugh for the first time in ages.

"You sound like you're getting sicker. How long have you had that cough?"

"Long enough."

"Severus..."

"_I'm fine._"

"Yeah, well, it's not surprising. It's cold as death in here. I can't believe they can get away with keeping people in such wretched conditions."

"This is Azkaban, my dear. Not a four-star hotel."

"Really?" Hermione snorted. "Your fashionable digs here might get a whopping negative ten."

"It's not so bad."

Hermione paused. "Please tell me you're joking?"

Severus started to laugh but it turned into another vigorous coughing fit. Hermione quickly drew back to inspect him more thoroughly. His face was red, there were pearls of sweat on his brow, and he was trembling. Hermione felt his forehead with the back of her hand and startled.

"You're burning up."

"Rubbish."

"Don't joke about it!" Hermione gave him a darker expression. "How long have you been this sick?"

"Hermione, would you quit fussing?" He coughed some more and withdrew her hand from his face, safeguarding it within his grasp. "I told you, I'm fine."

"Severus, you obviously have a fever, your voice is hoarse, and you're coughing."

"I'll feel better once I take those." He pointed towards the box of medicine on the ground with his eyes.

"Here, get up for a moment."

Hermione properly made a much more comfortable—and less soiled-looking—bed for him, laying two blankets onto the grungy mattress and several additional blankets he could use to keep warm, along with the soft pillows. When they both sat down again, Severus fumbled about with his cloak, and she could tell he was trying to fight off the tremors as best he could.

"Severus," she chided him delicately, "don't put up a front for my benefit. Get under the covers and get warm."

Severus rolled his eyes and tried to act annoyed. "I said I'm fine."

"You really _do_ sound like a broken record."

"And your fussiness is a turn off," he sneered back, to which Hermione gave him a wry smile.

"Really? I wasn't aware you were so hot to trot at the moment. You must be more ill than I thought."

"I haven't seen you in nearly a week," he hissed, to which she snickered, causing him to arch an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you'd want to put me out of my misery?"

"I sincerely hope you're joking again."

Severus's eyes hardened, but Hermione could detect the playfulness behind their depths. "Such a sweetheart."

"You're sick, Severus. Stop being a stubborn git."

"Hermione—"

She leaned forward and tugged at the cloak wrapped around his shivering form. Yanking hard, she managed to pull half of it off, and would have laughed at the stern look he shot her if she hadn't been distracted by his hands. He had brought them to his chest, and they were convulsing as she had never seen before.

Without asking permission, Hermione resolved herself to act quickly and crouched down to the ground to remove his boots. She was a bit surprised when he didn't try to fight off her efforts, which told her how badly he must be feeling. She put the worn items aside and quietly removed his cloak before easing him to lie down, fully clothed. She wrapped the handful of blankets around him as he drew up into a fetal position. She hoped all the blankets she brought were enough, but Severus was shivering so severely she couldn't tell if they were doing him much good.

"Getting warm?" she pressed gently, taking a seat at his side and leaning over him.

"Yes," he managed between chattering teeth, "thank you..."

Hermione tried to smile. "Obstinate arse. I've told you before that facade of yours doesn't work anymore."

Severus tried to glare at her but was evidently too put out to put forth the effort. "Witch," he growled feebly.

Hermione smirked and felt his face again, concerned. "You're_ really_ warm, love. I didn't bring any Pepper-Up either..."

"It doesn't matter. It wouldn't do anything for me anyhow."

"Oh?"

Severus shook his head and coughed. "My immune system's never tolerated it well."

"Well, what would work better? What can I bring you? I'm sure you must have some alternative you've made yourself?"

"You've done more than enough for me, Hermione." Severus bundled the blankets up to his face, his eyelids sinking shut.

"I don't mind—"

"_I do_," he insisted, sniffing a little before abruptly switching topics. "What have you been up to?"

Hermione sighed; she knew she wasn't going to get anywhere with him now, but she intended to come back to the subject eventually. She hated watching him suffer needlessly.

"Still tiding up Spinner's End when I can. Mrs. Weasley came by for a visit a few days ago. Oh, that reminds me!" Hermione brought her beaded bag onto her lap and extracted an assortment of unspoiled food—bangers and mash with buttered bread—wrapped in plastic. "Mrs. Weasley brought a whole host of meals for me; well, _us_. I placed a warming charm on this, so it should be good for another twenty-four hours or so."

Severus's nostrils flared at the wonderful aroma. Hermione could only imagine what revolting food he was getting in this dreadful establishment.

"Oh... Thank you." He unconsciously licked his lips.

"Want to eat it now?"

"No," he hacked into his hand. "I think I'll savor it later. All they give us here is gunk soup."

Hermione cringed. "Sounds disgusting."

"That's far too polite a term."

Hermione's shoulders caved. "I'm so sorry, Severus..."

Severus dismissed her pity with a sluggish moan. "Cut it out." One of his shaking hands reached out from underneath the blankets to take her hand. "Tell me more. Please?"

Hermione surveyed him attentively and bent closer, more than happy to distract and indulge him for the time being. "Well, other than that, my life hasn't been all that exciting. I've been going back and forth to the Ministry for weeks, trying to get things sorted out and find out what I can about what the Wizengamot Council is up to—"

"And what are you going to do? What about what we discussed?"

Hermione paused to reflect. She had concluded some time ago that Severus had a valid point during her first visit to see him regarding her next steps. She had to, at the very least, consider her own future and what she intended to do with herself but hadn't had the chance to talk it over with him until now.

Sweeping a few damp hairs out of his eyes, she smiled down at him as pleasantly as she could. "I spoke to the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and I'm thinking that might be best suited for me; at least, for now, until I can figure out what I _really_ want to do with myself. They have an opening in their Being Division. I have an interview lined up in two days."

"Good for you," he murmured, and she was warmed by the understated sincerity of his support. "Plan to petition new rights for the house-elves, are we?"

At this, Hermione went red. "You didn't think my sentiments had miraculously changed, did you?"

Severus snorted. "Of course not, and you have the audacity to call _me_ stubborn." There was a pause in which he simply rubbed his thumb in her palm. Then he slowly met her gaze with a gentle one of his own. "I'm proud of you."

Hermione blinked, her heart fluttering against her chest. "What?"

"For doing something good; for putting your talents to use. You'll do well..."

Hermione blushed even more. "Oh, stop it, you. You flatter me anymore and I may need to start pinching myself."

Hearing his harsh gruff of a response, she bowed down to kiss one of his burning cheeks and ran her fingers through his limp hair, now appropriately greasy after so many weeks locked away.

As if suspecting what she might think, he shied away from her touch. "Sorry, I... I smell appalling, I know."

"Severus..." Hermione scolded him with her eyes.

"They turn on the water in here—some spray from the ceiling—that lasts about five minutes; but it doesn't do anything. The water's bloody freezing, and I'm still filthy."

"Yes, you are." She frowned and angled her eyebrows. "And no wonder you've got such a high fever. How do they expect you to shower in such freezing conditions? The regulations of this place are slanderous! I'm going to make a point of saying something to Kingsley."

He offered her another weak smile before his mouth slackened. "Perhaps you should go into Law Enforcement instead..."

That comment brought a warmth to Hermione's angered disposition. "Perhaps you're right."

Hermione could clearly see his fever taking hold. His dark eyelashes fluttered and his eyes rolled back, his body overtaken by another violent tremor. She felt helpless, and the sight of his suffering broke her heart. She leaned down and kissed him again.

"Have you slept at all?"

"Not much, no." He heaved a deep sigh. "The guards, they... They like to keep us awake."

Hermione's pretty irises shimmered. "What do you mean?"

"Awakening enchantments, loud alarms, bright lights, and the like. It's aggravating, but I've gotten fairly used to it now; the problem is I never know when it's coming."

Hermione felt a fire in the center of her chest trickling to the surface. She wanted to scream and punch something. _Perhaps one of the guards_, she reflected acidicly. She did her best not to grind her teeth together and brushed Severus's face with the back of her hand.

"I'll make a point of mentioning that, too."

"Hermione..."

"He should know about how you're being treated, Severus! I daresay most don't know what all goes on here. You should have seen how suspicious and uptight they were about me getting permission to come here at all. Obviously, they must not want the outside world to know what they're up to, and how they're treating their prisoners."

"It was much worse when the Dementors were in charge."

"I don't care," she huffed, scuffing one of her feet on the ground. "It's overkill."

"Yes, well, don't forget, Hermione: most who get locked up here _deserve_ this sort of treatment."

Hermione scowled heavily. "You don't, Severus."

"There are many who would disagree with you—"

"_Stop it_," she demanded with more bite than she meant. "I don't want to hear it."

"Very well..."

Severus deepened his repose against the plush pillows, shuddering as he did so, and closed his eyes once more. "Thank you," he unexpectedly uttered, and Hermione's anger fell to the back of her mind, "for everything you've done. I... I appreciate it. I hope you know that..."

Hermione demeanor saddened. "Oh, Severus, _of course_ I do."

"I just... I don't want you to focus all your energy on me, all right? You have yourself to think of, too, you know."

"Severus, I _am_ thinking of me."

"Not enough," he grumbled, sounding sleepy.

Hermione eyed him confused. "I might have a job soon; I have a house I'm overseeing... How exactly am I _not_ looking after myself?"

Severus reopened his bloodshot eyes and scanned her up and down. "You're thinner, for one."

Hermione was admittedly taken aback by that observance, but she tried to play it off. "In all fairness," she groused, "so are you."

"Yes, well, that's because the cooking here leaves much to be desired. Yours is from stress, and I don't like it, Hermione."

_Adorable man..._

"Don't worry about me, love. I can't help it. You'd be stressed, too, if I was in here." When he opened his mouth to object, Hermione quickly shot him down. "And don't claim that that's somehow 'different' from your situation, because that's a load of codswallop."

"You're impossible." He sighed and shut his eyes, coughing several times.

Hermione wiped some of the sweat from his brow, her expression softening. "Let's take your tonics. They should help some."

As she administered each one, Severus paused on occasion to ask another question or two, mainly about her or what was going on outside the walls of his prison cell. Hermione willed herself not to be down; she didn't want the poor man to know just how miserable she had been. Her efforts seemed to work, but then she also knew Severus wasn't in his right frame of mind either. His shaking didn't subside, despite all the heavy blankets she had brought, and, even without having possession of her wand to do a diagnostic check, he was obviously running a very high fever. Touching his forehead was enough to confirm her worries.

When her one hour of visitation rights was almost through, Hermione had never felt more distraught about leaving him. In St. Mungo's, she had been permitted to stay. Here, she had no choice. With the ailing condition Severus was in, he would surely get worse, and she wasn't permitted to come here every day, or for longer periods of time.

_How much more useless could I possibly be?_ she wanted to shriek at the top of her lungs, but refrained.

"Severus, remember to take your tonics. I know you can't tell time in here, but maybe with each meal you get, you can take them then. _Don't forget_."

"You talk as if I'm a toddler, Hermione," he tried to grumble irritably, but it sounded fragile. "I don't need instruction."

"I just don't want you to forget is all. You're sick, and I suspect you'll sleep a lot over the next couple of days, which is good. You need it."

Severus bundled the blankets around his face. "I'm not _that_ sick."

His stubbornness made her chuckle; it was all rather endearing, though she wouldn't say so to him. "Now you _do_ sound like a toddler," she teased lightly.

Severus, however, didn't say anything back for a long moment. He searched her face, apparently looking for something, and then that unmistakable vulnerability that debilitated Hermione resurfaced without warning, and despite his ailment and exhaustion.

"Must you go?"

It was barely above a whisper, but Hermione could sense the panic hidden behind his mask of self-control, beneath the unwavering command of his voice. Hermione didn't want to draw attention to his emotional frailty, knowing he would only be humiliated if she did, so she bent over him to tenderly kiss his forehead and cheek, stricken when he responded back by pressing his large, hooked nose against her own.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Please... Don't..."

"I won't be away too long, love._ I promise._"

"I..." Not sure what to say, the dark wizard swallowed and fought his feverish state to focus on her kindhearted eyes. "I'm sorry. You've already done so much." Hermione was about to protest when he added, before re-closing his eyes, "Thank you for coming. It... It means a great deal to me... To see you..."

Hermione could feel herself tearing up and didn't want to do so when she was about to leave. She held them back long enough to peck his face a few more times, upset by how hot he felt.

"_Of course_ I'd come to see you, you silly sod," she whispered, her words catching in the back of her throat, "and I'll be back to bother you again. _Very soon._"

* * *

"Crooks, would you get out of there, you scoundrel?"

As Hermione attempted to spruce up the only other bedroom on the second floor—one she assumed had to have been Severus's parents'—she was distracted by scurrying, clawing, and general commotion in the wardrobe. Crookshanks had managed to nudge the door open with his nose, obviously trying to get at something. Hermione instinctively held out her wand as she walked cautiously towards that side of the room.

"If you have a mouse in your mouth, Crooks," she uttered unsteadily, taking a deep breath, "I swear to the gods..."

A few muffled meows reassured Hermione that that wasn't the case, however. Relaxing, she threw back the door and found a fluffy, ginger tail sticking out amidst a ton of storage bins, boxes, random objects, and items of clothing. It had obviously been used as a storage unit rather than an actual wardrobe, and Hermione waved a cloud of dust away with her wand to inspect it more thoroughly.

Distracted by everything in front of her, Hermione ignored Crookshanks, focusing in on a few boxes that had Severus's distinctive handwriting on them. "_'Photos'..._" she read aloud, her fingers rubbing away more dust. "_'Personal items'..._"

_That_ certainly heightened her curiosity. Overtaken by her incessant need to know what the heck was in them, Hermione gingerly heaved three labeled boxes out of the stacked piles with her wand and sat down on the floor to inspect their contents, continuing to ignore Crookshanks for the moment.

Opening the first box, she immediately took in a sharp breath. The box was filled with moving photographs—all of which were worn and old—and Hermione began inspecting them one by one, mesmerized by what she was able to see with her own eyes.

_Severus's past._

Some were in black and white, others in color that were now dull and faded. Why were they stored away and not out on display?

Hermione instinctively shook her wild curls, her face freshly melancholy. How could someone not want to hold onto these? She had thought it odd at first when she found virtually no hanging photographs on the walls or picture frames in the various rooms of Spinner's End, but quickly gathered that Severus considered his past too painful to want to remember; hurtful enough to not keep many out on display.

Hermione soaked in the images before her, staring at each one for a long time. A child at various stages of life with eyes as dark as the night sky, pale skin, long, limp hair, and a very protruding nose stared back at her. Sometimes he was smiling for the camera, other times he wasn't or, more likely, couldn't. It was clear to Hermione that the older the child got, the less happy he became, the less he smiled, and the less his suffering seeped through to the surface, replaced by a protected aloofness instead. Before he had learned to become a master of vacant expressions, however, Severus's childhood torment was evident when one looked into those deeply troublesome eyes.

_Severus..._

It was hard for Hermione to imagine that the scrawny, frail-looking child with oversized clothes that were shabby and torn would grow up to become the double agent, the hated Hogwarts Headmaster, the wrongly accused man the whole world despised but whom she loved. _This was him._ The man she had known for over seven years, at one time reserved and ill-communicative, had perceivably been sweet and curious in his youth; a child with hopes and dreams, now robbed and snatched away.

It twisted Hermione's stomach in knots. She ached for him. She wished she could make it better...

Some photographs included his mother, from whom he clearly got that distinctive nose, complexion, stark eyes and hair. It was strangely very much like looking into his own future as Hermione studied Eileen. She was removed in most of the photographs, inattentive or seemingly disinterested by whatever was going on. _Must be where he learned it from._ There were a few in which she smiled, beamed down at her son or placed an arm around his shoulder, but the majority of the time she sat or stood apart, as if the mere notion of touching her son was unthinkable. _Or perhaps she just didn't know how..._

Severus's father was just as removed and unemotional, staring hard into the camera, his eyes cold and lifeless. The few times that he looked at his son in a given photograph, that trademark sneer Hermione had come to know surfaced, showcasing his disgust and outright dismal of the only child he bore. He clearly disliked his son, just as Severus had explained to her.

It made Hermione's heart break. She wanted to cry but was too raw and stricken by these images. Taking in the ghosts of Severus's upbringing was disturbing and gut-wrenching. She couldn't imagine such a life. Being an only child herself, she couldn't fathom her own parents not showering her with love and affection, hugging and kissing her, and giving her the guidance and encouragement every child needs and deserves.

From the time he was a mere boy, it was obvious, just by the photographs alone, that Severus had no one to rely on but himself. He had parents, yes, but they were distant. He might as well have been an inanimate object or an animal to them. He didn't seem to matter either way.

Hermione held her hand up to the last photograph in the box, her fingers tracing a six or seven-year-old Severus in an oversized shirt and shoes with a few straggly hairs falling into his big, wondrous eyes. He was levitating something in front of him with both hands—a flower—and he spoke directly to the camera, a proud smile etched across his youthful face.

It took a moment for Hermione to figure out what he was saying, and when she did, she echoed little Severus's words out loud, "'For you, Mummy'..."

The words lingered for a time afterward. Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away from the photograph. Of all the images she had examined, this one spoke to her heart like none of the others had. It was the real Severus Snape. The insecure, sweet, and loving man buried beneath the cruelties that life had brought him in return. The image contradicted anything unfriendly anyone could say about him, and Hermione found herself staring at the moving image for a long time, forgetting about everything else, and the fact that she was supposed to be cleaning, not rummaging through the wizard's personal belongings.

Finally, she was distracted by Crookshanks, who emerged at her side and plopped something onto her lap, meowing to get her attention. Hermione peered down at the item that had been dropped onto her thigh. A dead mouse. Her eyes enlarged out of their sockets and she screamed and fumbled backward in an unsuccessful attempt to stand.

"_Crooks!_" she screeched, and the cat hissed at Hermione's reaction to his proud catch. "_No! Ack, NO!_"

Stumbling to her feet, Hermione scrunched up her nose and levitated the dead rodent into the air. After catching her breath, she glanced down at the photograph still in her hand, her expression relaxing a little, and placed it carefully in her pocket as she gladly removed the mouse from the house.

She would hang on to that photograph. She knew Severus wouldn't even suspect it missing, or if he did, she thought to herself, _It's too precious to part with._

* * *

For Hermione, the weeks that followed were an emotional roller coaster. She landed the full-time position in the Being Division of the Magical Creatures Department—a positive first step for her career-wise—but many were surprised, if not disappointed, that she had decided not to return to Hogwarts to finish out her schooling. McGonagall and Flitwick made a point of expressing to her their good wishes via owl correspondences but that they were hoping she might reconsider returning, if only to 'set a standard for the rest of the school.'

"Not likely," she grumbled, tossing both letters aside.

Her job was keeping her busy so far, but it still couldn't quite take her mind off of Severus in his predicament. His follow-up hearing had been delayed several more times and it would soon be going on two months without any decision, only now she knew why that was. The entire council had insisted on viewing the memories, and they all seemed to be taking their sweet old time debating—gossiping, more like—their decision.

Hermione was beyond frustrated at this point. When would this all be over? When would they be permitted to get on with their lives? In a way, Hermione was doing just that, only she was doing it without Severus, and that wounded her deeply; to go about her daily life as if everything were normal and that her world wasn't falling apart.

"Hang in there, 'Mione," Harry urged her one afternoon over lunch at the Ministry. "They can't prolong this forever. Sooner or later they have to reach a decision. It shouldn't be too long now."

"Harry, it's been almost two months! And Severus is—"

"I know. Kingsley's hounding them to get a move on as much as possible, as is McGonagall. She's written numerous owls to the council on Severus's behalf."

Hermione could do nothing anymore but shake her head. She had been to see Severus a handful of times since first taking notice that he was sick, and it had been getting progressively worse. The cough had settled in his lungs, and though an onsite Healer finally paid him a visit, the man gave him Pepper-Up, ignoring Severus outright when he informed him, rather testily, that that wouldn't do him any good, and refused to administer anything else.

And it wasn't just Severus's illness that was worrying Hermione. The symptoms of Nagini's bite were becoming more obvious again—troubled breathing, chest pains, abnormal temperament—and then there was the somewhat bizarre behavior during Hermione's most recent visit that kept her up at night.

Severus got abruptly skittish and shied away from her at times, pacing back and forth, his mind racing and his eyes darting about the room, ignoring her insistence that he get back into bed and keep warm. He was obviously paranoid; perhaps, she feared, even starting to go mad.

During her last several visits, she would enter his cell to find him muttering indecipherable words and gazing at the wall. The last time she saw him earlier in the week, he didn't even greet her. Staring her up and down, a wave of panic overcame him and he asked her frankly if she was a figment of his imagination. That stopped her in her tracks.

"No, Severus. It - It's me. I'm really here."

"I'm not dreaming?"

"No..."

"You don't look real." He squinted at her, his chest heaving harder than she knew was normal. "You've been in and out of my cell a lot lately."

Hermione blinked. "Severus, the last time I was here was over the weekend. I haven't been here for three days."

"That long?" His eyes flickered unnaturally; she thought he looked startlingly haggard and tired, as if he hadn't slept since her last visit. "That's impossible. You were here just yesterday."

Hermione reached out and brushed his cheek. "What?"

"I - I was talking to you. You brought me these pillows. I don't know how I managed already to get them dirty, but..."

Hermione jerked forward. "Severus, I brought those to you several weeks ago—"

"These blankets are nice." Ignoring her blatant worry, he brought them up to his neck. "Where did you get these? They look like the ones I used as a child—"

_This had better be his fever talking..._

"Severus, they _are_ yours. I found them in—"

"Oh?" He coughed loudly and shook before saying in a raspier voice, "I must be losing my mind."

Hermione couldn't answer. She didn't even realize that she was shaking a little herself. Willing herself to stay calm, she kissed him gently and kept her face close to his.

"They rescheduled your follow-up hearing."

"When?"

"Next week. Hopefully for the last time."

There was a pause. Severus searched her face wearily, his eyelids growing heavy. "Are you sure you weren't here last night?"

It was whispered, hushed and almost painful. Hermione nudged the tip of his nose and eyed him softly.

"No, love..."

"I think I've been hallucinating."

"I think you have."

"Even so," he closed his eyes and let out a prolonged sigh, "it's nice talking to you. It helps..."

Hermione couldn't take it. She waited long enough until she sensed he was asleep and then cried quietly, praying he wouldn't hear or wake.

_This is all your fault, Hermione_, her mind reprimanded her yet again. _This is what you brought him back for._

* * *

The morning of Severus's follow-up hearing finally arrived. Hermione should have been nervous, but she was anxious to get this over and done with now. They couldn't _possibly_ lock him away after taking this long to reach a decision, could they? After seeing everything that she, Harry, the Order, and his colleagues witnessed, they just couldn't rebuff his efforts now...

_No. They can't. They mustn't._

Hermione and Harry entered Courtroom Ten with plenty of time to spare, ignoring the crowd that had reconvened just outside, along with a dozen cameras and reporters who leaped on them as soon as they came off the elevator. Hermione didn't care how she would look for _The Daily Prophet's_ next-day paper. She couldn't even remember the last time she had given her own appearance any care or regard.

_Severus was right. I _am_ not taking care of myself._

Neither Gryffindor said much as they sat in the quiet, abandoned courtroom. Hermione was too wrapped up in her own contemplations anyhow, but once the Wizengamot Council filed in, along with the Minister for Magic, she sat up straight and took notice. She wished she could read their expressions. They certainly didn't look as ruffled or with an undoubted chip on their shoulders as they had before, but that didn't mean Severus was in the clearing either.

It wasn't long before the hearing got underway. Arthur Weasley's permission to give further testimony in Severus's favor was denied, which didn't surprise her. He wasn't present and probably had already been notified that his presence wasn't requested. The memories themselves were handed back to Harry at the very start, and when Severus emerged, it wasn't to take a seat in the interrogation chair as before.

In the center of the room, where the chair normally would have been, a cage materialized right out of the ground. Made of iron with heavy metal bars and jagged, iron nails that shot inside from all directions, ready to pierce the individual confined within should he make any sudden moves, it surrounded the now considerably thinner and worn Severus Snape. His hands were bound with magical chains, and Hermione immediately noticed that he was weak on his feet, his body swaying back and forth, but she seemed to be the only one who noticed.

The elegant cloak and frock coat she loved were now covered in dirt, and Severus himself had looked much better. His face was gaunt and white as a sheet, his eyes bloodshot and heavy, and his cheeks were completely sunken in. Perhaps it was because of the bad lighting in his cell that Hermione hadn't noticed before just how thin Severus had gotten, but it was an alarming sight to behold. His clothing now hung on him rather than adhered to the contours of his once powerful, lean frame. His breathing was strenuous and quite noisy, too, as he tried to keep from swaying so hard that he would fall and crash into one of the many daggers surrounding him.

Hermione's chest tightened. She yearned to go to him. She desperately wanted to get him out of there, and it took every ounce of restraint she had not to throw caution to the wind.

There was a general buzzing throughout the room as an elderly man seated close to Kingsley stood up to declare the verdict. Without even realizing it, Hermione inadvertently grabbed Harry's hand, which he didn't refuse. He stared on ahead at the council, but Hermione focused in on Severus. She kept waiting for him to make eye contact, but he was either too broken to do so, or, she suspected, too feverish to focus on much of anything. A wounded part of her wondered if he even knew where he was, as his eyes kept darting around the room, almost like he were in a confused trance.

_Hang on, Severus._

"Every council member has now had a chance to look at the memories Mr. Potter provided," the aged wizard stated, and the rest of the council quieted down. "The memories were tested for their validity and were found to have not been tampered with, so the council will accept them as reliable testimony in Severus Snape's case."

He paused to survey the sick wizard in the cage, just as the rest of the members did, before continuing slowly, "The council acknowledges Severus Snape's role as a double agent in the First and Second Wizarding Wars, that he willingly spied for both sides, and that his partaking in the crimes of his fellow Death Eaters was a conscious but necessary act in order to ensure that he could continue his role as a spy."

Hermione felt her spirits lifting; she squeezed Harry's hand.

"Furthermore, the council acknowledges Albus Dumbledore's conscientious decision to plan his own death, and that it was Severus Snape whom he asked to perform the Killing Curse on June 30, 1997. We acknowledge that Severus's intentions for killing the former Headmaster were to gain the Dark Lord's trust so that he may continue to aid Mr. Potter in his quest to eventually defeat the Dark Lord. We acknowledge that the killing of Albus Dumbledore wasn't maliciously intended by Severus Snape."

There was a little more commotion as the man continued to speak, and whilst Hermione was ecstatic by these turn of events—she could have screamed from the rooftops, if it were permitted—something still wasn't quite right. The man cleared his throat and looked to Kingsley for guidance, which Harry and Hermione both thought odd. The Minister sighed heavily, scowling down at Severus all the while, and nodded for the man at his side to continue. Whatever was about to happen, Kingsley evidently wasn't pleased, and Hermione felt her shoulders tensing all over again.

"However, as performing one of the Unforgivable Curses is an immediate path to Azkaban, we cannot allow Severus Snape to go unpunished for performing such a crime." As if sensing Hermione about to call out, Harry wove his arm across her to keep her still. "Though the Killing Curse wasn't carried out sinfully, it would be unwise—not to mention unjust—of this council _not_ to pass judgment on Severus Snape for performing said curse.

"Therefore, we, the Wizengamot Council," he drawled, making Hermione's heart pound in her ears, "declare that Severus Snape serve two years in Azkaban prison for his crime, and this is what we will propose if a proper trial should be in order." Hermione's mouth dropped. She wanted to protest at the top of their lungs, but there was no time. "However, given the particular circumstances surrounding this case, and in order to avoid an unnecessary trial, given the testimony this council has already seen, we propose an alternative."

Hermione thought her heart was going to burst right through her chest. A proposal? What was going on?

"In exchange for a shorter sentencing, we request that Severus Snape testify against all captured, and yet to be captured, Death Eaters who served the Dark Lord. As an insider, his testimony could prove undoubtedly useful in discovering who willingly followed or didn't follow the Dark Lord, what orders were carried out, and what their particular crimes may be.

"In addition, until all said Death Eaters are captured, we request that Severus Snape remain imprisoned in Azkaban until he has given all proper testimony needed in these cases."

The wizard bowed respectfully to the Minister and sat down. A stifling silence fell upon the room that Hermione could hardly bare. She seemed to have lost the capacity to speak, which was just as well, for Kingsley briefly locked eyes on her, and she noted the forlornness contained therein.

"I rule in favor of foregoing a trial. In the case of Severus Snape, the memories Mr. Potter provided should suffice in the man's favor. I concur with my fellow members that Severus Snape's testimony in the case of the Death Eaters would be most advantageous and useful to closing these cases as quickly as possible.

"However," Kingsley paused to take in the dark wizard standing in the middle of the room, who had remained silent except for his raspy breathing, "I think it is unwise of this council to resend the prisoner to Azkaban to await the capture of every single Death Eater." Before anyone could protest, Kingsley threw up his hands to call for silence. "That could take years! There are still many unaccounted for, and I do not think, in light of what Severus Snape has done, that he should be punished further by being locked away again until he has provided all the evidence we feel is necessary."

"But Minister," one of them, an older, plump lady tried to interject, but Kingsley kept talking.

"Furthermore, the man is clearly ill and in need of a Healer. He should receive proper care first before we proceed with his testimony, so that he may be healthy and well prepared for proper questioning."

"So let him receive treatment in Azkaban!" one of them protested.

Hermione shot to her feet and yelled over the noise, "A Healer already visited Severus in prison and did nothing for him! His body doesn't respond to Pepper-Up, and when he told the Healer of this and tried to request something else, he was denied. He never received the proper care he needs." Finding herself desperate, and panic overtaking her emotions, Hermione dashed onto the platform, walked over to the council and stared up at them with the most pleading eyes. "Please let him go. _Please._ He's sick and he needs to return to—"

"Who's to say he won't run!" one of them interrupted her, a younger gentleman with a beard. "Who's to say Severus Snape won't make a run for it as soon as he's freed, or cured, for that matter!"

"_He isn't cured_," Hermione insisted. Seeing as Severus's health wasn't public knowledge, there were several exchanged words amongst them to this bit of news. "He may never be! Nagini's bite, so far, has proven repeatedly combative in Severus's fight to get well. He may never have his full health back. He certainly won't run away; I_ know_ he won't! I..." Hermione took a slow, deep breath and pulled back her shoulders. "I'll take full responsibility should Severus not comply with the requests of this council."

There was an eruption of commotion to Hermione's addendum and Harry suddenly emerged at her side, staring at her wildly. "'Mione, what are you doing?" he whispered, grabbing her by the arm.

"Keeping the person I love from going back to jail where he _doesn't_ belong!" she snarled between clenched teeth.

Harry fell silent, resigned to Hermione's determination, and the two of them waited as the council openly debated the matter. Kingsley soon put a stop to it, however, and called for silence in order to speak.

"I accept your good word, Miss Granger." Several cries forced Kingsley to speak louder, "And I will forego voting on this matter. I'm putting my foot down. _Enough!_

"You've all seen what Severus Snape did, you've acknowledged his actions that helped the war efforts, and he will be giving valuable testimony so that we may get to the bottom of the real culprits in these matters. _What more do you want?_"

The council members talked excitedly to one another, but, for the most part, the atmosphere died down. Hermione could see several members looking a little shamefaced, considerate, or at the very least, reflecting upon what the Minister had said.

When no more outbursts came, Kingsley stood up and gazed down at Hermione and Harry decidedly before his kind eyes turned to Severus, still standing confined and weakened, waiting without expression for whatever his fate might be; or was he even aware of what was happening?

"Severus Snape, you will swear before this council to give testimony in the cases of the Death Eaters we have captured, awaiting trial?"

"I will," he whispered so softly it almost wasn't heard.

Hermione was relieved to at least be reassured that Severus comprehended what was happening, but it pained her to hear how sick he sounded. She strolled over to his enclosure and carefully reached in to take his hand, which was burning hot to the touch.

"And you will swear to give true testimony regarding any future Death Eaters we capture?"

"Yes, I do."

"Very well." Kingsley made a wave of his wand, which seemed to make some sort of a binding contract, and nodded towards two guards standing by the tall oak doors, the barrier that stood between Azkaban and freedom. "Severus Snape," Kingsley declared with more feeling than he had ever publicly bestowed in the wizard's case, "you are hereby free to go."

* * *

**A/N #2: Our Potions Master is finally free! But there's still plenty more to come... **

**Also of note, I had a beautiful reference for the photograph of a very young Severus levitating a flower for his mother. The artwork is on DeviantArt and entitled "For You, Mum" by AllOutofBubblegum. It's a heartbreaking image but really captures adorable little Severus so well. Worth checking out!  
**


	53. Freedom Comes At a Price

**A/N: A _huge_ thank you again for all your lovely feedback, favs, and story alerts! They feed my Muse like you wouldn't believe.**

**Also, PiccolaScintilla has made some beautiful new fanart from this series you don't want to miss, including one from the last chapter entitled "Must you go?" (Links are on my Profile!) **

**A lighter chapter for you with a bit of smutty goodness...**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 53: Freedom Comes At a Price**

Hermione let out the breath she had been holding and pressed Severus's hand as hard as she could. The two guards whipped out their wands and released Severus's cage. The sharp nails that threatened to pinch him if he moved slunk into the iron bars and disappeared. The cage itself fell apart and seeped into the floor surrounding him and vanished, leaving him nearly free. The bindings around his wrists and ankles were also disposed of, and Severus finally stood before Hermione as a free man, only he resembled more of a severely deprived person who had been to Hell and back.

Despite that, however, Hermione couldn't contain her overwhelming joy. She threw herself at Severus, her arms bounding him tightly around the neck, and reached onto her tiptoes to kiss and hug and embrace him senseless. She ignored the fact that he was unsteady on his feet, burning with sickness, and unable to say her name, let alone say much else. She was caught up in the moment of freedom; a moment she had been waiting night and day for, for what felt like years rather than months.

_Severus was free. She was free. They were both finally free._

"Hermione..."

Severus faltered at expressing how he felt, and the painful utterance of her name was enough to bring her to tears. "It's all right, Severus," she choked on her words, hardly able to get them out as she held him round the neck. "It's all right now. It's over. You can come home."

"But I... Azkaban..."

"You're _not_ going back there, Severus," she pledged, feeling the tenseness of his shoulders, as if he feared that this was all just a dream. "You never have to go back to that wretched place ever again. You're free, Severus. _You're free._"

"I..." Severus was bereft of words and finally resigned himself to simply issue a quiet, "Yes," and buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, his face swallowed by all of her ferocious curls.

He didn't want to look at anyone else. All he wanted to do was hold _her_. She had been in his every waking thought for months, his only saving grace, and now he could finally wrap his arms around Hermione in a manner he simply couldn't when locked away.

Suddenly, Severus's weight sagged against hers, informing Hermione that he could no longer stand. "Harry!" she called to her best friend for aid, who was standing at a distance and conversing with Kingsley.

The two men glanced over just in time to find Hermione struggling to keep Severus from crashing to the floor. Harry swiftly rushed over to catch the ailing wizard and looped one of the Slytherin's arms around his neck; Hermione did likewise.

"Severus," Kingsley came running over, looking distraught. "Do you need to go to St. Mungo's?"

Before Hermione could speak up for him, Severus shook his head defiantly and mumbled that he was "fine." Hermione tried not to roll her eyes and heaved him forward with Harry on the opposite side, Severus doing his best to walk without his knees giving out.

"Severus," Hermione breathed excitedly in his ear, "I really need to get you to—"

"No, Hermione," he groaned, practically pleading with her. "Home. Please... I want to go home."

Affected by how weak and hoarse he sounded, Hermione acknowledged his wishes, despite her own reservations. "All right, love. Let's get you home."

_Home_, she thought fleetingly as they exited Courtroom Ten and pushed their way towards the elevators at the far end. _Our home..._

That livened her spirits to think on. Despite the chaos surrounding her, and the fact that Severus was still quite ill, a warm smile that hadn't surfaced in eons drew itself across Hermione's worn face. The prospect of a future was now in sight, and the young witch had never felt more relieved.

* * *

"Hermione, knock it off."

"What am I doing?"

"You're fussing again."

"Am not."

"Are too." Severus pushed against his pillows and gave the phial in Hermione's hand a proper sneer of disgust. "And get that bloody tonic away from me. It smells like cat piss."

Hermione shot him an impish smile. "Augustus said it would help with your wheezing. It's brand new, you know."

"Oh, _lucky me_," came his sarcastic reply. He fiddled about with the bed sheets, which Hermione fully understood to be a stubborn attempt to _not_ do as he was told.

"You _are_ a Potion-maker, Severus. Can't you appreciate the hospital's efforts?"

"Over that sorry-arse concoction?" He turned up his nose in defiance. "No."

"Merlin, you're a hard patient to please."

He arched an eyebrow, a faint twinkle she had nearly forgotten emerging in his eyes. "And you're only just figuring this out now?"

Hermione couldn't help but broaden her smile. Placing the phial on the bedside table, she kneeled onto the bed and brought her lips to his, something they had both exercised quite often since Severus's return to Spinner's End. Hermione's lips were now properly swollen, as were his, but neither one of them cared about such a small, trivial inconvenience.

When their heated mouths parted, Hermione carefully eased herself onto the bed next to him, and Severus shifted to make room. "I wish I didn't have to work today," she grumbled, pursing her lips as she rested an arm across his chest.

Severus's fingers twirled a few curls behind her head; Hermione grinned into the crook of his arm. She had missed such everyday, simple pleasures.

_Merlin, how long its been..._

"Me, too. I sort of lament bugging you now to get a job."

"Oh?" Hermione rotated her head to meet his face, serene, yet still paler than usual. "I think you were pushing me to move on without you, actually."

"Alas, I was."

Hermione scolded him with a fierce glare and a firm shake of her head. Inclining her neck to kiss him again, she hissed against his mouth, and his lips curled into a provocative smile.

"Bastard."

"Mmm. You're quite right."

"_I'm always right._ Haven't you gotten the memo yet?"

He snorted and lightly captured the cupid's bow of her mouth. "First you were too bold; now you're far too self-assured."

"Am not."

"Are too," he returned with a low growl.

Hermione giggled and allowed him to weave his arm behind her neck, pressing her lips into his for another few minutes of blissful snogging. "I'm going to be late," she reiterated several times, pushing away unsuccessfully. She wasn't exactly trying hard to wiggle herself free, however.

"I'll make it all right with your boss," Severus reassured with a sly smirk, and Hermione's eyes widened in alarm. Slapping his chest, she forced their supple mouths apart.

"Don't you dare say anything to him!"

Work flew to the back of her mind momentarily when she felt a sudden rush between her thighs. Severus's warm hand had slid down the front of her pants and into her knickers, his two fingers stroking circles around her pulsating nub, releasing some of the tension from her preoccupied mind.

"Oh, no," she inhaled sharply, curving her back in response to how glorious his fondling felt; he had started to weave two fingers between her folds, catching her further unprepared.

"Want more?" Severus baited, reclining back against his pillows with a pleased look and turned on by her response.

Hermione fumbled for her lover's hand and—reluctantly—extracted it from inside her trousers. "No, you don't," she tried to narrow her eyes but was quickly overcome with a bout of excited laughter; she yearned for more but forced an emphatic, "_Later_," between her teeth.

They hadn't had sex in an ungodly long time, and even with Severus still being sick, it was clear to Hermione—and not that she was opposed—that the deprived man was desperate for some proper 'welcome home' shagging. Severus hissed his objection, which only made her laugh harder. She had to admit, she would have loved to stay home and make it up to them both for the rest of the day, but she had only started her new job not too long ago. She wasn't willing to screw up her professional life already just for some much-desired personal fulfillment.

_Then again..._

"Tease," he spat close to her face.

"Horny git."

Severus's eyebrows rose, amused. "I like that one."

"Well, it fits you, you lewd swine. Now cut it out. I have to go."

Hermione affectionately kissed him a few more times before hauling herself out of bed to stand and redo her now disheveled hair. Severus eyed her over thoughtfully whilst she pulled her curls back into a low ponytail, and Hermione did likewise. She enjoyed seeing more color in his cheeks again, though his eyes were still quite heavy and red. Hermione had an innate urge to feel his forehead before she left and did so to put her mind at ease.

"I'm fine," he insisted, swiping her hand away easily enough. "Get out of here."

"I just want to make sure your fever isn't coming back."

Hermione could tell he wanted to roll his eyes and was doing his best to resist. "You're more paranoid than I am, witch."

"I can't worry about you, particularly after what you've gone through?"

"It's unnecessary, Hermione." She knew he was lying; he sounded awfully tired. "I'm perfectly fine."

"No, you aren't, Severus, and I'm just worried is all. I'd rather be cautious than not."

"No, you're _fussy_, my dear. Therein lies the problem."

"Whatever." Hermione swatted his thigh hidden beneath the covers. "Stop contradicting me and go back to sleep."

"Suit yourself."

Shooting her another luring smirk that made her chest flutter, Severus stretched lazily and willingly closed his eyes. Hermione couldn't prevent herself from staring him down, even if he wasn't looking.

"Who's the tease now?" she sniped coolly, to which he merely mumbled something under his breath that she didn't catch.

Severus had only been home a few days, but they had barely had enough time to talk. Aside from taking care of him, Hermione had been forced to keep to her daily routine, and, thus, was gone most of the day. By the time she returned to Spinner's End, Severus was usually fast asleep, unresponsive until she roused him herself to take his medicine, eat, or shower. His fever had finally subsided, but his voice still sounded rough, and the symptoms from Nagini's bite lingered, though they were at least lessening day by day and falling under better control.

An enormous sense of guilt rushed Hermione's worried mind as she prepared to leave for the day, but she was comforted by the fact that her feline had been thoroughly looking after him in her absence, and, today would be no different. As if on cue, the half-Kneazle suddenly emerged from the hallway, nudged the bedroom door open wider with his paw, and scampered into the room, jumping onto the bed with a soft meow. Severus didn't respond, his eyes still closed, but Hermione smiled at the cat and scratched his ears. The feline purred appreciatively and awaited his mistress's instructions.

"Keep an eye on him, all right, Crooks? I have to go."

With an understanding mewl, Crookshanks brushed up against Severus's side and curled up into a ball, purring against the wizard mediatively as he slept. Hermione allowed herself another minute to observe the pair of them.

Then, resolved to take her leave, though it disappointed her to go at all, Hermione bent down to kiss Severus one last time, pecking the bridge of his nose as lightly as possible. Hermione still couldn't quite believe he was back, and the awareness of his return left a wonderful sense of completion and wholeness in her heart that had been severely absent during his prison sentence.

To her surprise, Severus's eyelids fluttered open, though only half way. "I'm sorry, love," she startled, brushing his forehead with the back of her hand. "Did I wake you?"

"No..." She thought he sounded groggy and very sleep-deprived, despite how much rest he had gotten the past several days. "I was still awake."

"Well, go to sleep, would you?" she tittered, giving him an attentive smile. "You need to take it easy for a while. Enjoy it while it lasts."

"No quickie before work then?" he prodded, making her blush.

Hermione could detect that devilish smile hidden beneath the covers and scolded him by way of smacking his chest. He chuckled quietly and closed his eyes again.

"You're hopeless."

"I guess not."

"_Later_, you fiend."

"Fine," he muttered, on the verge of sleep. "Bugger off."

_Adorable man._

"You're a real crab when you don't get your way." He merely grunted but kept his eyes shut, seemingly too tired to retort. Hermione nuzzled his ear and pecked one of his cheeks. "I'll see you later," she whispered, and when she received no response, she knew Severus had fallen asleep at last.

Hermione hesitantly turned on her heels and strolled out of the bedroom. _At least_, she reflected as she left, _it was now toward a brighter future, unlike before..._

When Hermione returned later that afternoon, she found Severus in what had become his normal state: asleep in bed. Curled up on his side, Crookshanks was the only fellow of the two who rose to greet her before scampering out of the room.

Hermione didn't waste any time. Kicking off her shoes, she crawled into bed and spooned him from behind beneath the sheets, looping an arm around his torso. It wasn't long before Severus stirred, mumbling her name as he came round.

"Hey, you," she purred close to his ear, leaning over to lovingly kiss him awake.

"Hi," he muttered before being overtaken by a yawn. He forced himself to ask anyway, "What time is it?"

"About four thirty. Did you sleep all day?"

"I think so..."

"Lucky bastard," she teased, nudging his shoulder with a brush of her cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"The same." He paused to bury his face deeper into the pillow. Sighing and drowsy, he asked her through a shattered voice, "How was work?"

"Productive enough. My boss likes my proposal for new regulations for the house-elves." She paused, smiling against his skin. "I told you I wasn't the only one who thinks a thing or two needs to change around here."

Severus let out a feeble moan and reclined back against her, turning his head slightly. "Good for you."

"Oh?"

"Mmm," he sighed. "And _I_ told _you_ you'd do well."

A wider smile spread from ear to ear across Hermione's pretty face, and she was somewhat relieved that he couldn't see, as his eyes were still closed. She was more appreciative of his encouragement than he probably knew. After all, the man hardly ever dished out compliments, but for her, he certainly had, and she was grateful.

The arm she had looped around him wove itself tighter. "If you were still my professor, you'd be telling me right about now how 'ludicrous' my whole venture into freeing the house-elves is."

"If I was your professor," he mumbled back, "you wouldn't be lying here in bed with me right now..."

Hermione blushed at his back. He certainly had a point _there_. She lightly kissed his shoulder, taking a moment to inhale a whiff of his scent, and nuzzled her nose into the nape of his warm neck.

"Point taken."

There was a considerable pause—the only sound being one another's soft breathing—until Severus broke it with another quiet remark. "I meant what I said..."

"Hmm?" Hermione's eyes flickered, distracted. "What's that?"

"Good for you," he stated, this time with more effort.

Hermione stared happily at his profile. His mouth was limp and relaxed, his expression tranquil and untroubled. _Almost like Azkaban never happened_, she thought with a heavy sigh, and then whispered into his ear an appreciative "Thank you."

Severus tried to suppress a yawn by turning his head into the pillow. Once the fit of exhaustion passed, he turned onto his side facing her and rubbed a hand along her outer thigh. Eyelids half opened, he surveyed her through considerate dark eyes.

"I missed you."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She was sometimes surprised to still have such a strong reaction to such words, but then, coming from him, it made them all the more important. And she found that she couldn't get enough of those charming compliments or softer sentiments. She shot him a crafty smile.

"You'd _better_ have missed me, you scoundrel."

"I always do..."

Hermione tapped the tip of his nose with hers. "Well, if you_ must_ know, I missed you, too."

Robust, hoarse laughter followed. Hermione searched for Severus's hand, which was still rubbing her thigh beneath the blankets, and took it into her grasp.

Leaning in to kiss the side of his face, she coaxed him awake further by murmuring, "Now then, where were we?"

"Mmm."

A faint smile curled at the edges of Severus's thin mouth, and, with eyes closed again, he unlatched their intertwined hands to ease his fingers between her legs. Unzipping her trousers, he reached inside her knickers—her sheath already balmy and inviting—to repeat what he had started that morning. He fondled her just as gently, stimulating every nerve and spark as his thumb circled her clit, two of his fingers slowly entering her sweltering canal.

Before long, the dark wizard could sense his stimulation affecting the witch at his side, even with his eyes shut. Her hot breaths intensified and she pressed herself against his hand, motioning for him to hit the spot she earnestly wanted.

"I guess you _did_ miss me," she managed to get out before curving her back with a sharp breath, feeling his fingers dip and press down on her G-spot.

Promptly, Hermione kicked off her pants, shoving them to the bottom of the bed somewhere out of sight, leaving only her knickers, which were now soaked through. Bending her knees, Hermione fumbled to remove them, too, distracted by the thumb that kept rubbing vigorously against her nub and the two fingers between her folds, jolting her pleasure buttons to life like sharp currents of electricity.

Hermione at some point had closed her eyes and given herself over to Severus's stimulation. She had rolled onto her back and spread her legs wide, vagueling aware of Severus moaning her name above her own orgasmic cries of enjoyment. Eventually, her eyes opened—her vision now appropriately hazy—to find her lover looming above her, his raven eyes, though much more alert, still bloodshot and exhausted.

As he lowered his lips to hers, Hermione tried to ease him back, but she, too, was becoming both lost and overrun with pleasure. The severe ache that needed to be filled was growing far too painful to ward off, but Hermione struggled against the desperate urges. She forced their lips apart and stroked a hand over Severus's face.

"What is it?" he rasped, confused and not at all prepared to stop.

"On your back."

The crease between Severus's eyes stretched. "What?"

Hermione couldn't stop her light laughter. Nudging his nose, she smiled up at him encouragingly.

"My turn. Do as I say."

After a moment, and with a satisfied smirk, Severus carefully rolled over, allowing Hermione to take over. Her mouth met his for several more minutes of blissful snogging, their supple lips massaging and sucking, with Hermione willingly taking control. She was surprised but appropriately aroused by how trusting the man had grown, giving himself over to her completely and without any hint of a struggle.

Feeling the repeated brush of his erection growing and hardening between her legs, Hermione reluctantly unfastened her mouth from his to sit up. She still had her blouse on, which she promptly threw over her head and whisked out of sight.

Severus's hands greedily made their way up her front, causing Hermione's breath to catch in her throat, enraptured by how sublime the warm caress of his overworked hands felt exploring her body—her waist, soft abdomen, and breasts hidden behind her bra, which she unlatched. With full access, Severus's fingers inched their way all along her curves, over every groove and contortion. Now and then, Severus let out a sigh or moan of contentment, leaving Hermione breathless at his touch but also at his arousal when surveying her naked form.

Hermione watched the curious, dark irises mapping their way across her body. The way he examined her didn't make Hermione feel like she normally did—plain, unsexy, no great beauty. What his eyes, instead, revealed to her was that she was the equivalent to an exquisite piece of artwork, meant to be thoroughly savored and admired.

Hermione never felt more beautiful than in these moments of ecstacy, and the reminder was always tenderly rendered. She had not only missed _this_—making love to Severus—but she had also been selfishly deprived of how the man looked at her when they made love. She felt empowered and as enrapturing as a goddess. Not inadequate but, rather, the prettiest and worthiest woman on earth.

Hermione took possession of one of Severus's hands and pressed it against the pillows. She straddled him and, once comfortable, eased herself onto him, letting out a gasp once he was fully inside her. Severus, likewise, bridged his back and let out a deep rumble of want, his eyes fluttering once Hermione began to move and grind forward and back, curving her spine with every thrust, at first gentle and controlled.

_Bloody fucking amazing!_ her mind wanted to scream.

Why the hell didn't she opt for being on top every time? It was unbelievable. And it had been so long. _So, so long_, Hermione moaned, every fiber in her body aching with need, as she bent over him, rocking in rhythm with her lover, matching his aroused sounds of satisfaction.

Hermione swooped his other hand into hers and clasped it tight. Severus's weight sunk into the sheets, his head falling back against the pillows, and he simply let Hermione take the reins. She was doing fantasticly, and he didn't want it to end.

"Merlin... Oh, god... _YES!_" she gasped, her cries growing ever more urgent, along with Severus's. "I've...needed...you..."

"Me, too," he managed between clenched teeth, trying to focus on her when her drenched forehead came to his. "Uhhh... _Uhhh, yes!_"

Their fingers fastened around each other's tighter as they drew closer to climax, their bodies wrapped in a recurrent wave of passion that had long been denied. They pounded and drove and shoved in unison, crying out each other's names, and finally gave themselves over to one another with a vengeance.

Hermione clenched and pressed Severus's hands into the bed with great force, just as he simultaneously arched his back, buckling as he came hard inside her. Desperate for the euphoria to last, both remained frozen in place for several seconds, consumed and lost. Then Hermione all but collapsed on top of her lover when the indescribable feelings passed away, her breathing rampant and matching his. Severus's body had gone limp as well, and she patiently waited for his focus to return.

The aroma of sex and sweat lingered in the twisted, soak-covered sheets as Hermione kept her hands latched on his, her face close enough to feel his hot breaths fanning her cheeks, their bodies stuck together and dripping with perspiration.

"I think we both needed that," she concluded through breathless laughter, which he echoed in agreement.

Severus ran an arm across her shoulders, bringing her into an intimate embrace, and pecked the edge of her nose appreciatively. His stark eyes were quite lively, despite his evident fatigue.

"I've only been waiting all day," he tried to grouse, though it was clear to Hermione—and to her alone—that his hiss was far more pleasant than anyone else would have picked up on.

"Git." She snickered and kissed him accordingly. "Well, it was worth the wait, I trust?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. Then he extended his neck to kiss her once more before falling back comfortably against the pillows that cradled his head, Hermione snug in his arms.

"Need you even ask?"

* * *

After several more days of bed rest, Severus was finally well enough to move freely about the house. Hermione could tell how frustrated and anxious he had grown at not being able to leave the confines of their bedroom, so it was a welcome change. It also put her mind at ease knowing that he was doing much better whenever she was away at work.

Despite that relieving factor, however, not all was well in Spinner's End. _The Daily Prophet_ continued its attacks upon Severus's character, just as it had since the end of the battle. It seemed that even with Lord Voldemort being gone for several months, no one was content to leave the matter of Severus Snape alone. Hermione may have known that the professor wasn't well-thought of by the majority, but the continued spitefulness and relentless hatred appearing daily in the papers brought her no peace of mind. Severus pretty much avoided reading the_ Prophet_ altogether, but Hermione sensed he knew exactly what they were insinuating about him at all times. What little favorable reputation Severus had once held was tarnished, probably for good, though Hermione tried not to think on it too much. It only brought her pain.

There was also the unavoidable situation at work that was becoming increasingly uncomfortable for the young witch to ignore. She was alienated amongst her coworkers due to her 'relations' with Severus, despite it having been public knowledge for some time. And she paid the price. People mostly went out of their way to avoid her, though she was always within earshot of gossip and hearsay about their relationship—none of it kind. Hermione tried to remain cool and unaffected, but every scornful word she overheard weighed more and more heavily on her heart.

Hermione had been doing her best to work through the motions on her own, but she wasn't accustomed to being so misunderstood, and by the end of the summer, she was returning to Spinner's End more often than not in tears. Of course, she would quickly dry her eyes before entering the home so Severus wouldn't see, but her reddened eyes easily gave her away.

The Death Eater trials were another heated discussion at the Ministry, and one Hermione could never seem to escape. Several trials had already been set for the end of September, Lucius's, Avery's and Mulciber's amongst them—three of Severus's one-time closest friends. Hermione was having trouble deciphering how Severus was taking to the notion of speaking out against them in court. Whenever she brought up the touchy subject, Severus never replied at length, sometimes shutting down entirely and going about his business as if it wasn't a factor at all.

Hermione understood all too well not to push; she knew the trigger signs that told her to back off. Severus would discuss it when he was ready. That didn't mean she didn't do her fair share of prodding and coaxing him to speak whenever she could.

One early September evening, Hermione returned to Spinner's End via Floo to find the place abandoned; or so she thought, until Crookshanks emerged from a doorway hidden behind a high bookshelf in Severus's library, where Hermione had gone searching for her wizard. She all but cried out in alarm when she caught sight of the bookcase moving out of the corner of her eye and instinctively reached for her wand.

"Crooks!" she gasped, clutching a hand to her chest. "What the..."

Then she heard it. _Billie Holiday._

"_I'm living in a kind of daydream... I'm happy as a queen..._"

It was coming from a lower level of the house just beyond. Hermione strolled to the opening in the wall, where Crookshanks meowed for her to follow. He disappeared down a flight of stairs, and an understanding reached Hermione's sharp mind. She should have known: _Severus's Potions lab, no doubt._

Hermione descended the narrow staircase, hearing Billie's rich vocals, full of yearning, growing louder, until she reached the bottom and her eyes were overwhelmed with what she found. It wasn't as impressive a laboratory as the one the former Potions professor boasted at Hogwarts, but it was fairly large, with all sorts of phials, jars, and peculiar ingredients lining the walls, from floor to ceiling. It was tidy, clean, and resembled the orderly wizard of whom it belonged to.

Hermione spotted Severus standing near a small, working fireplace, stirring some bubbling, red-colored concoction. A lovely old phonograph—different from the one she had spotted in Severus's office nearly two years ago—played behind him, and his body swayed ever so slightly to the slow rhythm of his favorite tune. His lips unconsciously mouthed along with the lyrics, and Hermione caught the faintest distinction of Severus's low barritone vocals. _That_ made her heart skip a beat or two. She had loved his singing ever since discovering it at Christmas mass; it was robust, yet surprisingly beautiful.

The contents of the potion he was working on were just beginning to froth. In one swift, elegant move, Severus cast a handful of leaves into the pot and continued to stir in a slow, precise fashion that Hermione stopped to marvel at.

Crookshanks had hopped onto his working bench, where the ingredients for whatever Severus was brewing were spread out, and mewled to get the man's attention. He eyed the cat first, then casually made eye contact with Hermione, his black eyes open and pleasant.

"Hi," he greeted her from across the room. The potion illuminated his face, giving his pale complexion much more color than usual.

"Hey, you." Hermione crossed the space in just a few strides and studied his work station, curious as to what he was up to. "What's all this?" she inquired after a moment, finding Severus observing her quietly from where he stood.

"My tonics," came his simple reply. "I'm making some adjustments."

"You've wanted to do that for a while."

"Yes, I know."

Hermione realized she had missed watching the man practice his craft. It had been so long since she had seen Severus brew anything. Leaning in for a proper kiss first, she settled back against his work bench and watched him intently.

"It's been a long time for you," she murmured after some time had passed in silence.

Severus offered her an understated smile, and Hermione knew the wizard's lighter mood was a result of finally getting back to something he loved, and to a certain level of normalcy, too. "Yes, it has," he agreed. "I've missed it."

"I know you have."

"I feel a bit out of sorts though."

"_You?_" Hermione ignored Severus's dramatic eye roll. "Give it another hour or two, and you'll be as comfortable as you ever were."

"I wish that were true..."

Hermione surveyed his work area again. Various ingredients were already sliced and ready to be added to the mix, along with a handful of open books filled with all sorts of complicated instructions. Severus had scratched out or written over most of them, which Hermione found both comical and admirable. It was obvious that Severus hadn't just started this endeavor either, and that was cause for concern.

"How long have you been down here?"

"I'm not sure. Since shortly after you left this morning." He paused, noting the worrisome shift in her caramel eyes. "You're back early, aren't you?"

"No... You mean to tell me you've been down here all day?" She crossed her arms, inspecting him over with care. "Have you eaten? Did you take a break at all?"

Severus arched an eyebrow, his dark irises giving her a challenging look. "Are you going to smother me now like a five-year-old boy?"

"No, I'm just asking a few valid questions is all."

"On the contrary, you're fussing again."

"Will you answer me, please?"

"Very well," he growled, which only caused her to smile at his endearing agitation. "Yes, I've eaten, and yes, I took a break. Happy?"

"Better, at any rate."

Hermione's newly relaxed demeanor softened his scowl of irritation. Hermione filled the small gap between them and brought her arms around his waist. He, in turn, put an arm around her as well, and the two settled in comfortably, allowing Billie Holiday's vocals to fill the room for another few minutes.

"So, which one is this?" Hermione finally inquired, inspecting the bubbling brew with interest.

"I'm trying to configure a concoction from my blood oxygen and respiratory tonics, seeing if I can come up with a successful way of combining the two."

"And so far?"

"Nothing," he muttered, sounding a bit miffed, which she secretly found captivating.

"Merlin, nothing like jumping back into things with both feet, eh? You couldn't try something easier to start?"

"I'm a _Master_, Hermione," he emphasized, waving her suggestion away with a toss of his head. "Not an apprentice. I _should_ be able to handle this."

Hermione snickered and reached onto her tiptoes to affectionately kiss his cheek; he leaned into her caress, which she loved, and wrapped his arm more securely around her shoulder, bringing her as close as possible.

"Can I help?"

"I'm almost finished with this."

"You just don't want my help, do you?"

"I'd prefer to do this alone."

Hermione had meant her question as a teaser but felt slightly injured by Severus's dismissal. "You've never shied away from letting me help you before."

Severus cast his eyes upon her, and the look he bore was both resolute and serious. "This is different."

"How so?" she pressed testily.

"Hermione, elixirs are some of the most complicated and advanced Potion-making there is. And with my unique circumstances... Well, it takes a great deal of time and patience. You've done enough already."

Hermione didn't want to argue the matter. Instead, she sighed deeply into the crook of his arm and unconsciously began tracing a handful of buttons along the front of his coat.

"You really_ are_ hopeless," she groused lightly, not sure if he had even heard her, but his brief bit of laughter told her he had.

"That's why I have you, isn't it?"

Hermione felt her grin widening. "Such a charmer."

"I meant it sincerely."

Hermione smirked and rubbed her cheek against the stiff fabric. "I've been wondering where your lair was. It's about time I found out."

"Pardon?"

"Your lair-away-from-Hogwarts. I'd have been shocked if you didn't have a laboratory of your own."

"It would be terribly pathetic of me if I didn't."

"Why didn't you ever tell me about this place before?"

"I suppose there wasn't much time before..."

Hermione waited for Severus to finish, but it was quite obvious that he couldn't go there. He cast his eyes back to his work, his lips bound shut.

"I know," Hermione filled the silence soon after, looking just as forlorn as she suspected Severus of feeling. "There wasn't much time, was there? But now there is."

"I hope so..."

Hermione quickly switched topics. The last thing she wanted to think on were problems that still loomed in front of them, unavoidable and uncertain.

"There's an owl upstairs from Draco. I didn't open it; just saw the address." Severus merely issued something under his breath and kept stirring. "I take it he'll want to speak to you about his father's upcoming trial?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Severus took a moment to throw the remaining ingredients into the cauldron, his eyes reflective and, to Hermione, a little hardened. "Hopefully, in time, he'll understand."

"What do you mean?"

Severus turned his head, giving her his full attention. "That's his father, Hermione. _His family._ He won't take too kindly to what I'm about to put them through, you know that."

"I don't think Draco's as receptive towards Lucius as you may think, Severus..." Seeing the strange look that formed on his face, she elaborated further, "When he helped me escape Malfoy Manor, I made a point of asking him what side he was on. He didn't side with his father, Severus. That much was clear."

"I know; he alluded it to me some time ago, when he suggested I seek you out."

"Really?" Hermione's mouth fell in surprise. "_That was Draco?_"

"Yes, indeed."

Hermione searched Severus's cryptic expression. That bit of news about the Slytherin boy who had once been her sworn enemy was heartening to hear, if not a bit shocking and perplexing, but she knew Severus's focus was on what lay ahead, not the past. It was quite clear that Severus wasn't at all receptive to having to testify. Some of them had not only been his friends at one time but were capable of some of the most horrendous crimes; crimes he wasn't ready to discuss, even with her.

Just a few days prior, Severus had expressed his concern about her welfare, of what the Death Eaters might try to do in revenge for him speaking out against them in court. Hermione had played his reservations down; she didn't want him to be anxious or more alarmed than his paranoid mind already felt. After all, how could anyone plot revenge while locked away in Azkaban prison?

Severus, however, wasn't convinced. "Lucius wasn't kind to Draco, was he?" she piped up unexpectedly.

There was a flash in Severus's eyes, a reflection of sadness and pity for his godson, that Hermione had never seen before. "No, he wasn't. Lucius was always too hard on him, and he encouraged the boy's poor behavior. He's a pretentious brat, I know, but it's not entirely his fault."

"I know." Hermione wasn't sure whether it was right to bring it up when she wasn't supposed to know. "You're his godfather, aren't you?"

Severus's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How did you know that?"

"He mentioned it to me when he was getting me out of Malfoy Manor. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"You don't like him, Hermione, so why would I?"

"That isn't true."

"Oh?" He blinked a few times, his pupils dilating, and his next question was carefully placed. "After what he called you, you don't despise him even a little?"

Hermione couldn't answer at first, but eventually she sighed. She knew where Severus's question was _really_ coming from, and it only made her terribly sad. For him.

"It's his upbringing, Severus. I hold him accountable for what he said, but he also grew up in a privileged wizarding family of purebloods who don't know any better." She paused, surveying the man she loved thoughtfully. "_And I'm not like that_, Severus. I prefer to give people a second chance."

Severus caught the hefty implication behind Hermione's words and tightened his grip on her in response. Keeping her arms woven around him, Hermione rested her head against his chest. It was a moment or two before Severus found his voice again. He brought a hand to her head and scrunched his fingers through her mass of curls, attentively massaging her scalp.

"No," he murmured into her ear, "you're not like that. You're forgiving and patient. Exceedingly so."

Hermione understood the weight such flattering words carried. Severus had slowly come to realize he had been punishing himself far too much, that perhaps the friend he had loved and lost had unrealistic expectations, and that, even if he wasn't perfect, he should have been given another opportunity to make things right. It was an encouraging step.

_And he would have been given the opportunity to right his wrongs_, Hermione wanted to snarl out loud but refrained,_ if you had only given him the chance, Lily..._

"Thank you," he whispered gratefully to her, causing her brow to furrow when she looked up at him.

"What for?"

"_You know._"

Hermione gazed at him for a long while before finally whisking pieces of hair behind his ears. "You shouldn't thank people for being forgiving, Severus. It's something we all should do a little more of, I think..."

"Indeed."

"So... Draco?"

"I'll write him later."

"He's known about us for some time, Severus, and he hasn't spoken out, as far as I know."

"I know."

"Well, don't blow him off, all right?"

"I have no intention of doing so, love."

"Good." Feeling much more in harmony with how things were left, Hermione stepped back and lightly swatted his arm. "Finish this up and come upstairs. I'm going to start dinner."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "You? Cooking? _Again?_"

"Third time this week," she tittered, flashing him a glowing smile. "Aren't you impressed?"

"An understatement."

Hermione crossed her arms with a defiant smirk. "I'm getting better, you have to admit."

"Perhaps."

Hermione gasped and hit him harder, her heart skipping a beat when she received his delicate, wry smile in return. "Keep it up and you won't get anything, Mister."

"That would be most unfortunate," came his drawl of sarcasm.

"My cooking really isn't _that_ horrible, is it?"

Severus answered with caution, "It's sufficient."

"Rubbish! You _are_ impossible to please! No wonder none of us stood a chance as your students."

"Am not."

"_Are too._"

Giggling, she ran a hand over his cheek before turning on her heel and calling for Crookshanks to follow. He pounced off the table and trailed after his mistress, his fluffy tail high in the air.

"Hermione?" Severus called to her when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She turned around, curious. "I have another matter I need to discuss with you then at some point."

Hermione's intrigue heightened. "Oh? What's that?"

"Later," was all she received as he whipped out his wand and extinguished the fire beneath his cauldron with a quick, graceful wave. "Something I'd like your opinion about. Something important."


	54. Of Patronuses and Positions

**A/N: Something happens in this chapter that I've been alluding to for some time now, so I hope you like it!  
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**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

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**Chapter 54: Of Patronuses and Positions**

There were many things that crossed Severus's mind since returning home from Azkaban. For one, he and Hermione had developed a bit of a routine regarding work, personal time, and everything in between. It felt natural and comfortable living together, more so than Severus, at least, ever imagined it would. Having lived alone for so many years, he expected this transition to be much more trying than it turned out to be. Was it too good to be true?

_Probably_, his skeptical mind concluded easily enough.

There was an unspoken understanding between he and Hermione that he never expected to share with someone else. For one, knowing when to leave one another alone or to allow each other time to go about doing their own things, was clearly defined and understood without much discussion; but Severus seemed to find himself needing less personal space than he used to. The extreme bouts of isolation were no longer needed, and Severus found he didn't miss it much at all.

He did, however, miss Hermione when she wasn't around, and, for whatever reason that he still couldn't wrap his brain around, she missed him, too. Many times, it wasn't even being together and constantly interacting with each other that was the most remarkable of all. Often, when they retreated to Severus's library after dinner, reading in one another's company and making a comment or two every now and then, but, for the most part, simply enjoying their individual interests whilst being in the same room together, was what struck him the most. Talking was never a requirement, and the silences between them were never awkward or uneasy. They were comfortable, expected, _normal..._

Severus had been giving increasing consideration towards their future. He suspected Hermione of doing the same, but it was never heavily discussed. They discussed the possibility of selling Spinner's End—both were keenly interested in making a fresh start, and Severus had never enjoyed being in a home filled with too many painful memories anyhow—and of visiting Hermione's parents following the trials to hopefully reverse the Obliteration spell she had placed on their minds.

Most recently, the subject of Severus's own professional future became a frequent and rather crucial topic of interest. It had been nearly two weeks since Severus received an unexpected owl from Headmistress McGonagall, asking if Severus would be interested in returning to Hogwarts as Head of Slytherin House and Potions professor next year. _That_ was entirely out of the blue.

"Surely, the school board will want to question me about us, amongst numerous other matters."

"You're probably right," Hermione agreed; she had made a point of telling Severus about McGonagall's visit to hospital shortly after he was taken there, informing Hermione at the time about a possible inquiry by the Board of Governors.

"Strange that any of them would want me back..."

Hermione's heart fell. He didn't seem at all perturbed by it, but she was. None of his colleagues had reached out to him until now. McGonagall's letter was cordial enough, but it was mainly business-like, and a bit too impersonal for her taste.

"Severus, you were cleared of what happened, and the staff knows what you did."

"Even so... There are other Potion-makers she could choose."

Hermione wasn't aware of any, but then, it wasn't an avenue she knew much about, outside of Severus's teachings. Horace Slughorn had agreed to take the post for one more year to allow the school time to get back on its feet, but he was adamant about retiring after the current term ended.

_Perhaps that explains it then_, Severus considered with a cynical smirk. _Maybe nobody else wants it._

"I'm their last resort," he concluded with a decided scowl.

"I'm sure that's not true." Hermione knew Severus wanted her input, only she wasn't quite sure she was ready to give it just yet.

It wasn't long before the papers got wind of the opportunity that had been dropped in Severus's lap, and the outcries of protest that followed were virtually unanimous: no one—aside from the staff and a selection of parents who had children in Slytherin House—wanted Severus Snape 'corrupting' their children.

That hurt Hermione deeply, but she tried to remain positive, more so for his sake than hers. She was both encouraging and apprehensive about the professional opportunity. On the one hand, he had been offered a job, and she knew how important that was to him. In the months following his hearing, Severus had tried unsuccessfully to reach out to at least a dozen apothecaries in the hopes that one of them might be interested in hiring him to fill their Potions orders, but they all—unsurprisingly—turned him down flat.

Severus wasn't accustomed to begging, and he stubbornly refused to sell his efforts to any one of them or fight harder to convince the owners that his skills would be more than worth their investments. Hermione didn't like that he wouldn't bend just a little bit, but she understood all the same. She hated to see every door being slammed in Severus's face. It was debilitating to witness the disappointment etched across his face whenever he received another owl of rejection. He was more than qualified to sell his own work, and no one was giving the highly skilled Potion-maker a chance.

So, Hermione understood how financially important this opportunity to return to Hogwarts could be, and not just for Severus, but for both of them. _Both of us_, she found herself reflecting over in her head. It was wonderfully euphoric to be thinking not only of her own future but of one she was wholeheartedly sharing with another individual.

However, Hermione couldn't help feeling a tad selfish about Severus's prospects as well. Returning to Hogwarts would mean spending the majority of their time apart. Without even asking McGonagall, Hermione predicted that having a live-in girlfriend on the school grounds would be out of the question.

_Girlfriend?_ she snickered at the idea when it popped into her head one evening while reading in the library. But isn't that what she was and had been for a long time? _Severus Snape's 'girlfriend'?_

It wasn't exactly a term that applied well to either of them. It almost sounded condescending. Several more conversations and correspondences had taken place between Hermione and her friends, including Luna, Neville, the rest of the Weasley clan—George found the whole concept hilarious, which Hermione didn't care about, because it was nice to see the young man smiling again—and a few others from school that she ran into at the Ministry, now working in various positions. Most of her peers, like her, had chosen not to return to Hogwarts to finish out their schooling and been granted early graduation statuses. The idea was a little too sore and close to home for most.

As she and Severus sat comfortably by the fire in the library—Severus in his favorite leather chair and Hermione sprawled out on the couch—she glanced up from her reading on advanced healing techniques with heightened curiosity. She had recently taken to researching Severus's various afflictions herself to see what she might find.

"Did you answer her yet?" she asked. Severus, seated with Crookshanks curled up in his lap, glanced up at her from the Potions text he was scrounging through. "McGonagall's owl?"

"No, I still have a few weeks yet to decide."

Hermione lowered her book a few inches. "I know."

Sensing the active mind behind the vacant expression, Severus gently prodded, "Giving it more thought?"

"Well, yes..."

Hermione hadn't admitted to Severus yet that she didn't like the idea of him being away so much, but she suspected the same thought had been looming in her wizard's mind as well. Severus tossed his book onto a side table and gave her his full attention. Crookshanks, however, didn't stir, remaining fast asleep as Severus scratched the snoozing cat behind his ears.

"And?"

"I don't know," she sighed, finally showcasing some of her misgivings. "I understand why you should take it financially, Severus, but, well..."

"Yes?"

Hermione's eyes turned downcast. "You'll be away. A lot... We won't get to do this every night, for instance."

"What? Read books and not speak to one another?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. He may have been making light of the situation for her benefit, but she was more than serious about their possible separation, and loathed the idea.

"I would think this would be of concern to you, too."

"It _is_, Hermione."

Hermione pulled her legs up on the couch. "Good," she pouted and looked away, causing Severus to eye her apprehensively.

"You think I _want_ to be away from you?"

"No..."

"Then what's wrong?"

Hermione put her book down and brought her knees to her chest. "Well, it's a lot of stress, for one, Severus. It's not a good idea for you to undertake that kind of a workload; not yet."

"Hermione—"

"And I won't be around if something happens to you, or if you need anything."

"I don't need a babysitter," he growled testily, but she pressed on, ignoring his irritation.

"And how often would we see each other? One day a week if we're lucky?"

Severus considered her questions before addressing them. His dark eyes softened, the contours along his face bearing the weight of such a possibility.

"Probably weekends only." Seeing her mouth slump further, he added, "Unless, by some miracle, I could get away more than that."

"I see..."

After a moment of merely observing her sadness, he ensured quietly, "I'm as ill-receptive towards the idea as you, Hermione, but there isn't any alternative of employment on the horizon. We need money, and I'm not about to let you keep pulling all the weight around here."

Hermione was surprised to hear that. She studied him attentively and whisked her head back and forth, a few curls falling loose from the pony tail she wore.

"Severus, that's not true, and_ I_ certainly don't see it that way—"

"Well, I do, and it's not at all fair to you."

"Severus, that isn't—"

"I'm tired of being useless, Hermione." The quiet pain in that remark made Hermione go rigid. "I have to do _something_ soon, or I'll go mad..."

"Severus... You're_ not_ useless." He merely scoffed at her words and turned his attention towards the fireplace, which made Hermione's chest cave. "_I_ don't think you're useless at all."

Severus returned her sympathetic gaze with discontent. "If I can't start providing for us soon, you will."

"Severus—"

"So you don't think I should take the post then?"

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it, repeating the motion several times. She really wasn't sure _what_ to say. On the one hand, Severus had an annoyingly valid point: they _were_ financially strapped, and Severus had even opened some of his savings to keep them living comfortably for the time being. She hated seeing him so miserable over being indisposed and unable to work, too. However, the idea of being separated pained her more than anything else...

Before she had time to really put her thoughts together and formulate the reply that she wanted, Severus had gotten up and crossed the room to take a seat next to her on the couch. Hermione allowed the wizard to wrap a protective arm around her shoulders and curled up comfortably into a ball at his side. With the autumn weather nearly upon them, making Spinner's End colder than usual, Hermione levitated a throw and threw it over them for additional warmth.

"I know this isn't an ideal situation," she heard him speak frankly and softly near her ear, his chin brushing the top of her head. "I don't want to be away from you any longer than I have to be, but please understand, Hermione, I can't do_ this_ anymore. I'm not used to staying at home all day with nothing to do, twiddling my thumbs and looking for ways to occupy my time. _I hate this._ And I despise myself for it. This isn't me."

"But Severus, you aren't well. I remember seeing the stress you were under—"

"It wasn't that bad, Hermione," he tried to reassure her but failing miserably; they both knew that was very false. "Even so, we need the money. The salary I always received at Hogwarts was meager but livable. Until a better opportunity arises, and I think it's safe to say that we both know _that_ won't be happening—"

"Severus—"

"—we really don't have a choice." Severus waited, eventually hearing Hermione's miserable sigh of disappointment, and he reacted by kissing the top of her head. "Hermione, Hogwarts has been my home for too many years to count. It... It won't be easy stepping into that castle again after everything that's gone down, but, odd as it sounds, I feel much more at ease going back there than anywhere else. I know what we have here is much more than that place will ever amount to, but if I'm to be employed anywhere, I'd like it to be Hogwarts. And anyway, I've been a professor so long, that I... I wouldn't know what to do with myself in another occupation."

Hermione's ears perked up. "Occupation?" she pressed curiously.

"I think we both can safely determine that there are no opportunities outside of Hogwarts anymore for me to earn my keep as a Potions-maker. There probably isn't _any_ occupation outside of Potion-making for me either; not after everything that's happened."

"Severus, don't talk like that..."

Hermione peered up at him and brushed his neck with a kiss, nuzzling her face close to his. It deeply hurt Hermione that there was a lot of truth to what Severus was saying. No one was giving him a chance outside of this sole opportunity from McGonagall, and it was looking increasingly foolish of Severus to _not_ take it, no matter what it meant for their personal lives.

Severus exhaled and leaned his head against hers. "It's true. I wish there was something else I could do for us, but there isn't." He paused. "And I don't want to disappoint you..."

"What?" Hermione reared back to read his face, now aggrieved and fairly disgruntled. "Severus, you aren't disappointing me. I'm disappointed with the whole situation, _not you_. It's so unfair. Look, I want to support you, _and I will_, whatever you decide."

"This isn't just my decision to make."

The gravity behind that statement internally struck them both. It was true. It would be a decision that would affect them both, that would compromise both of their futures, and was another major step in their relationship—one built on acceptance, trust, and, now, compromise.

Hermione took a moment to reflect. How far they had come together... He was correct: it wasn't ideal—not by a long shot—but Severus was still what she wanted; even with the prospect of long-distance, that wasn't going to change her sentiments. In that moment, Hermione already knew what her decision was. If they could work through all the difficulties they had encountered in the past, then this was just one more obstacle they could tackle. _Together._

"Very well," she proclaimed, giving him a warm, affectionate smile. "Hogwarts it is then."

She saw the visible flicker of shock, followed by his resounding response of awe. "Really?"

"_Really._" She glided her hand down the side of his face, planted a firm kiss on his lips, and traced the contours of his mouth with her fingers. "But I expect you home _every_ weekend; more than that if you can manage it."

At first, Severus stared down at her without blinking. Then his lips stretched into a genuine smile.

"I'll be home as often as I possibly can."

"You'd better."

"It's not for a long way off, Hermione. We're talking next fall."

"I know." Hermione began toying with a few of the clasps along his chest. "But all the same: every weekend."

Severus's smile extended. "Every weekend and then some, if I can."

"Good." Hermione inclined her neck to kiss him once more, sealing the deal, and took her time to savor the important step they had just taken as a couple. "I'd like to come see you as well," she insisted, her mouth grinning against his, "so work it out with McGonagall. If not, _I_ will."

"Bossy know-it-all," he griped half-heartedly.

"Git. You aren't useless. I don't ever want to hear you say that again."

Severus stopped kissing her to regard her with subtle amusement. "Whatever you say, my dear."

"You don't believe me."

"No, I don't."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. "When will you ever stop thinking so poorly of yourself?"

Severus couldn't answer, only stare, and once Hermione realized she wasn't going to get a straight answer, she inched an arm behind his neck and shifted herself over top of him, straddling his lap and kissing him longer and deeper than before. He moaned into her mouth, so she kissed him more eagerly.

"We won't be able to do _this_ every night," she pouted, breathing hard, to which he responded by bringing her as close to him as possible.

"I'll make an effort to see to it that we can."

"Oh, really?" she snickered, her lips pressed to his; she lovingly pecked him several more times. "And how do you reckon you'll do that?"

Severus didn't answer right away, only snogged her several more times, deepening their passionate embrace with each kiss. When he pulled back to finally get air and answer her properly, his breathing was hot and excited, as was hers.

"Patronus?"

Hermione blinked, confused. "What?"

Severus gave her a seductive look that made her shudder. "Via Patronus..."

Once Hermione grasped where he was going with that idea, she burst into laughter. "Desperate, are we? How is _that_ better than the real thing?"

"It isn't," he assured her, his eyes livening at the notion, "but it could be fun..."

Hermione shook her head, laughing harder as she kissed him some more. She removed her wand from her back pocket and winked at him as she reluctantly unlocked her lips from his and scooted back onto the couch.

Hermione situated herself comfortably and summoned her Patronus, but what happened next nearly catapulted her right off the couch. When she cast the Patronus Charm, the otter she had grown so accustomed to didn't manifest like so many times before. The silver mist that floated out of her wand, indeed, conjured a Patronus, but one that was entirely new and foreign, not just to her, but Severus as well. He drew forward with keen interest at the sight before their eyes.

"Your Patronus," he murmured with astonishment. "It's changed..."

"I... I don't understand. What happened?"

It was more of a rhetorical question, as she was too stunned to make any sense of it, but Severus didn't answer her either way. He was mesmerized by what he was looking at, too, quiet as could be, and just as stumped as Hermione when she briefly glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Crookshanks hissed aggressively and flounced out of the room with his hair standing on end.

A beautifully defined and agile-looking cat—a cougar—roamed the floor near the roaring fireplace. She did a slow walk around before meeting her maker's eyes. The cougar's eyes themselves were fierce, yet not aggressive, only mysterious. Her large forequarters pawed lightly at the floor. Then she was still, her erect ears falling back as her head bowed to Hermione in acknowledgement.

Hermione was completely in awe. The cougar was gorgeous, and something in the wild cat's stance made her not intimidating, merely poised and strong.

"She's beautiful," Hermione found herself murmuring, amazed and transfixed.

Hermione extended her hand and the cougar stepped forward so that Hermione's hand could touch her nose—the silver mist—in greeting for the very first time. The cougar sat close to the couch and awaited her instructions, but all Hermione could do was admire her new Patronus with a look of utter wonderment and awe.

Severus withdrew his wand from his coat pocket and Hermione turned to him, sensing his own curiosity that matched her own. He, too, cast the Patronus Charm. What happened next made her heart beat faster against her chest, and she detected Severus's own body stiffen at her side.

Severus's Patronus—the airy silver doe he had had for so many years—was no more. It, too, had changed, morphing into a creature that neither anticipated but found equally, if not more, bewitching. What emerged from his wand was not a dancing fawn, but a powerfully-built, lean black panther with defined musculature. He leaped out of Severus's wand, roaring as he entered the room, and jumped robustly about, considerably light on his feet. Hermione's cougar turned her attention to the ebony wild cat and followed him carefully with her eyes.

Severus's Patronus roared again and came to stand beside Hermione's. The black panther bowed respectfully to his conjurer, acknowledging Severus with another quieter howl. His body stood erect, his face majestic and regal as he awaited Severus's response. He was slightly larger than the cougar, and when the witch and wizard said nothing, the two cats casually turned to one another and shocked them further by affectionately butting heads. Their mouths seemed to project smiles of their own for one another.

Severus and Hermione marveled at their new Patronuses for a time in silence, soaking in this dramatic change to their magic, realizing that not only did the Patronuses react positively to one another, _they were meant to be._ Finally, Hermione stirred, leaning into her lover with her head propped against his shoulder.

"Well," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "if this isn't an indication that I'm meant to be with you, Severus Snape, than I don't know what will convince you..."

Severus slowly peered down at her, still awestruck. When Hermione met his gaze, she half expected him to look a little sore at the doe's—the last trace of Lily—loss, but, to her utter relief and astonishment, he was smiling agreeably and brought his lips to hers to let her know he wasn't at all pained by this dramatic change.

"Indeed," he purred in return, echoing his own Patronus's low hum of contentment, "I suppose I can no longer fight you off."

"No, you can't," she giggled, pressing their mouths together again, before drawing back to brush a hand through his long hair. "I love you," she professed happily; she didn't care how silly she probably looked. She _was_ happy and could tell that Severus was, too.

Severus pecked the bridge of her nose, his touch exceedingly gentle. Then his obsidian eyes bore into hers, and Hermione knew, even if he hadn't returned the declaration, that the feeling was mutual.

"I love _you_," he reciprocated in a hushed tone.

"I know."

When their eyes returned to their new Patronuses, the sight they found was both comforting and curious. The wild cats were sprawled out on the floor in front of the hearth, the cougar situated beneath the black panther with her head conveniently placed atop his massive paws, as he ardently licked at and rubbed the top of her head.

* * *

"I guess Patronuses change when you're in love?"

"Don't know," Hermione shrugged as she shared a cup of tea with Harry over their lunch break at work. "Could be. Severus thinks it might have been after he woke up in hospital; sort of a 'rebirth' kind of magic, perhaps?"

"Interesting. And you?"

"Probably the same for me... Realizing that I almost lost him. Perhaps that confirmed something for me I haven't figured out yet. I was already in love with him, so I'm not sure. Maybe the prospect of losing him made it official? That he was the one? I haven't a clue."

"Well, it does make sense. Snape's brush with death probably confirmed how you both truly feel about each other." Harry snorted. "It almost sounds too easy though."

Hermione smirked. "You sound like me."

"Yeah, I know. Impressive... I'd love to see it some time."

Hermione smiled brightly. "Certainly."

"So, the doe's gone then?"

"Yes." Hermione hesitated, surveying her friends peculiarly blank expression. "Does that upset you?" she prodded, feeling a little anxious.

"What?" Harry blinked and shifted his focus. "No, not at all. Actually, it's a relief, to be honest."

"Yes, I... I'd like to think so." Harry ran a hand through his unkempt hair and scanned the café as Hermione changed topics, though she was rather reluctant to talk about the subject in question at all. "How's Ron?" she inquired, holding her cup a little too tightly.

"All right," Harry offered politely; he was obviously trying to stay neutral. "He's struggling a bit right now with the trainee tasks. His reflexes aren't up to what the boss would like, so he's not happy about that, but he's getting there."

"He never struck me as someone who'd want to be an Auror."

"I didn't think so either." They both exchanged pensive glances with each other. "Maybe he just doesn't know what he really wants to do yet."

"Maybe..."

Talking about Ron was already proving far too miserable a discussion for Hermione. She hadn't seen him in months, not since she had drawn her wand on him in the heat of the moment, an act she now regretted. But she was even more hurt when he ignored the subsequent owls she had sent him in the weeks that followed.

By the end of the summer, Hermione resigned herself to the fact that Ron would—hopefully—contact her once he was over his anger and resentment. She missed having him in her life, and Harry didn't seem at all comfortable with the way things were now between the Golden Trio.

"Where's Luna?" he piped up, his green eyes searching the café for any sign of the peculiar blonde. "She's late."

"Are you surprised?"

At this, the two friends shared a quiet chuckle together, and, as if on cue, Luna suddenly emerged behind Harry's seat. "Hello," she replied airily, her dreamy eyes gazing from one to the other.

The three exchanged friendly greetings before Luna took a seat and whipped out the latest _Quibbler_ edition. Luna had requested a meeting with the pair of them, and, though the amusingly strange girl didn't elaborate why, Hermione and Harry already reckoned on what she had in mind.

"How do you like working for _The Quibbler_ now?" Harry asked, glancing over some of the more ludicrous articles the magazine was notorious for, trying not to snicker or make a funny face.

"I love it! My dad's getting more feedback on the magazine than ever since I wrote that editorial about the final battle. They particularly liked your account of what happened between you and Voldemort, Harry." Luna gave him a pleasant grin as his green eyes continued to examine various articles. "People are actually starting to take the magazine seriously. It's nice."

"That's great!" both Harry and Hermione uniformly agreed.

Luna, too, had chosen not to return to Hogwarts, even though she was a year behind them, and instead went straight to work at _The Quibbler_ for her father. She had been writing various articles for the magazine for years, so no one was entirely surprised when she landed the job.

She and Neville had also started dating at the beginning of the summer, which no one seemed that surprised about either. The two had been eying each other up for nearly two years. Things in that department seemed to be going well, so much so that Hermione suspected that perhaps _that_ was why they had taken to her dating Severus much better than she originally anticipated. The conversation wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't nearly as sour as she expected it to be.

"How's Neville?" Harry inquired after their friend, and Luna's thoughtful smile stretched further.

"He's good. I think he's a little glum about being one of the few to go back and finish, but he really wants to teach Herbology, so Professor Sprout has taken him under her wing. It sounds like she's adamant about retiring soon."

"Slughorn is, too," Hermione chimed in. "I heard Flitwick was considering leaving as well?"

"Don't know," Luna shrugged. "I take it Snape accepted the position?"

"Yes, he did."

"Good for him," she chimed happily. "Neville's glad he'll be done with his studies by the time Snape returns." Not seeming to notice the flicker of bitterness that crossed Hermione's eyes, and not thinking she had said anything wrong, for that matter, Luna added, unperturbed, "He figures Snape will be glad not to run into him after all the ruckus he made last year."

Harry snorted. "Not just last year. He was probably Snape's worst student. Poor bloke couldn't brew anything to save his life."

Luna tittered merrily. "Yes, I know."

"Yes, well..." Hermione looked away from them momentarily.

Hermione wasn't sure what to say. She had spoken at length to Luna and Neville regarding hers and Snape's relationship, but his noteworthy stint as Headmaster was, for the most part, avoided. Neville closed up rather quickly and Luna didn't seem all that interested in discussing it, leaving Hermione disappointed and a little upset at the time, though she knew she had no right to pry.

"It's all right, Hermione," Luna suddenly interrupted her thoughts, as if reading her mind. "It's in the past. Neville would just rather forget last year altogether. I think we all would."

"Oh, I - I see..."

"That's not a _bad_ thing." Luna played with her braided hair, staring at her friend meditatively over her shoulder, distracted by something. "Snape suffered, as did we. Everyone did."

"Yes, I... I know."

"You needn't feel bad. Snape already feels bad enough, I'm sure."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Yes, he does actually. Very much..."

"I figured. Those memories were enough to convince me that the man tortures himself more than most. That must be difficult for you."

Luna always had a peculiar knack for speaking so directly and honestly, and yet, Hermione still found herself trumped by the girl's apathetic commentary; the way she conveyed deep thoughts as if they were no big deal at all. It was candid, yet unprejudiced, and Hermione found she rather liked having _this_ kind of conversation about her Severus for a change.

"It can be, yes. He's getting better, but he has a long way to go."

"I'm sure he does. Has he told you a lot about what happened while he was working for Voldemort?"

"Yes and no." Hermione glanced over at Harry, who was also eying her without judgment. "He opens up when he wants to, but I don't push him to talk about it."

"_You?_" Harry teased, to which Hermione glared at him from across the table.

"Very funny."

Luna gave an almost preoccupied smile and briskly changed topics. "How are you enjoying Spinner's End?"

"Well enough. We're thinking of selling the place."

"Oh?" Even if Luna sounded disinterested, her friends read her better. "Why?"

"Make a fresh start. The place is rather haunting for him. Too many bad memories. He doesn't ever say so, but it's obvious. Well, to _me_ it is. It's very nice; he's done a lot with the place, but, well..."

"It doesn't feel like home."

"Not quite, no," Hermione confessed, pausing to sip her coffee. "Anyway, I can't imagine that's why you wanted to meet me today, Luna?"

"No, not really," came her nonchalant reply.

There was a rather exaggerated pause in which Hermione and Harry waited on their friend to say something, knowing it would come when the girl was ready and her mind wasn't inattentive. Finally, she tossed her braid off her shoulder and nodded to _The Quibbler_ still in Harry's possession.

"I was wondering if you and Snape might consider giving me an interview? _The Daily Prophet_ has been having a field day with you two for a while now. I imagine you must be rather sick of all the lies and innuendos."

"Oh," Hermione shifted in her chair, unsure, "well, yes, but..."

Luna read her hesitation easily enough. "Snape wouldn't be up for it?"

"Probably not, Luna..."

"That's a shame. It would be nice to get his side of the story for a change; both of yours."

"It's not a bad idea, 'Mione," Harry encouraged.

"No, it isn't," Hermione found herself agreeing with them. She was entirely sick and disgusted with the _Prophet_ these days. If it wasn't the pair of them that were being gossiped about incessantly, it was Severus alone, and nothing that was said about him was ever positive. "I just don't see how I'd convince Severus to open up so candidly about himself, or us. You know how he is. There are things even _I_ can't get him to talk about."

"Hmm." Luna pondered for a moment, staring at the table without a word. Then she piped up, "What about multiple sit-downs? Asking questions little by little? Sort of ease Snape into sharing, so to speak."

"Erm, that's a good idea, Luna, but I still don't think I'm going to be able to convince him to pour his heart out to you."

"Darn," Luna sighed, but not sounding all that disappointed. "Well, what about you?"

"Me?"

"Of course. You and Snape. Want to set the record straight?"

"I already made a statement to the _Prophet_ when the news first broke."

"And how did that go over?"

Hermione caught Harry's suppressed smile behind the magazine. He, as well as Luna, already knew just how poorly that endeavor have gone: it resolved nothing. If anything, it stirred things up, at least where Skeeter was concerned.

"It did nothing," Hermione muttered, waiting on Luna's next informal move.

"Well, then why not speak to me and answer my questions? I promise I won't ask anything too off color."

Luna didn't seem to notice the thought that was evident on both Hermione's and Harry's faces for a fleeting moment: virtually _everything_ Luna said was 'off color.' However, it would be a golden opportunity to finally come clean about everything, in a matter that the _Prophet_ would have no editorial control over.

"All right, Luna," Hermione consented, feeling more upbeat about the idea than she had at the start.

By the time lunch was concluded, Hermione and Luna had set aside a date and place to meet. How to break the news to Severus was another matter, and one Hermione wasn't quite sure she wanted to bring up right away.

* * *

"I'm sorry I never came to see you in hospital, sir."

Severus shifted awkwardly in his worn leather chair and grunted in an attempt to play off the boy's concerns after his health. "That's quite all right, Draco. You had your own matters to sort out."

Draco had stopped by one evening several weeks later. It felt slightly uncomfortable to all be situated together in the darkened sitting room, Draco on a couch by himself, and Hermione and Severus seated opposite him in chairs of their own, though still close together. Hermione was tempted several times to reach for the man's hand—something she normally did without any thought—as there was nothing to be self-conscious about anymore, but sensing how difficult this conversation between godfather and godson was going to be, she refrained. So far, however, the conversation was going better than she expected.

"I know, but you were there for a while. I... I wanted to come see you, only my father..."

Draco peered down at the hot teacup in his hand that he hadn't touched. A muscle in his mouth twitched, his disposition uneasy, evidently upset with bringing up Lucius at all. Severus and Hermione could tell easily enough that thinking on his father was painful and decided not to push it, and Hermione had stayed virtually silent throughout the conversation so far.

"Have you seen him since his arrest?" Severus asked cautiously; Hermione sensed he didn't really want to ask but felt somewhat obligated, for Draco's sake.

"Yes, only once. Mum's gone to see him several times, only lately I've noticed she's been visiting less and less. He's virtually unchanged; only he's quite broken, Severus. I don't think he even realizes it. I... I don't know how to help him. I really don't."

There was a lengthy pause. Hermione couldn't read Severus's expression, but she, herself, was certainly feeling increasingly more sympathetic towards Draco than she had in the past. Something about the boy had changed dramatically. Had his bitter sentiments towards 'Mudbloods' and pure-blooded wizarding families been purely an act? That didn't necessarily seem plausible, but _something_ had most definitely changed.

"How's your mother?" Severus further inquired, disrupting Hermione's quiet observations.

"She's all right. She's better now than she was a few months ago. Having Dad locked up has been trying for her."

"I'm sure it has."

"She wanted to come see you, too, you know."

Severus gave the boy a surprised look. "Oh?"

"Yes. As I understand it, you were always on Dumbledore's side, and, well... That got Mum a lot more interested in seeing you. She just wasn't sure if you'd like it."

"I wouldn't have, no," Severus admitted, albeit softly, narrowing his dark irises. "And how do you know about what side I was on? Haven't you been reading _The Daily Prophet?_"

"Since that article broke about you and Granger that was written by Skeeter?" Draco snorted, astonishing them both. "No. That's when I knew the _Prophet_ was full of shit, because of what Dumbledore's and Dippet's portraits had told me before."

Severus leaned back in his chair, eying Draco with a bit of discomfort. "I see..." he murmured, still sounding skeptical.

"And anyway, I had sort of hoped that maybe you were," Draco halted to formulate his next words carefully, "_better_ than what I had been led to believe by my father and Aunt Bella."

Hermione blinked several times. She hadn't expected something so naturally warm from the boy; then again, he _had_ saved her life.

She watched the understated switch that formed on Severus's face. The lines around his mouth grew gentler, and she knew he was just as taken aback by such words as she was.

"I'm going to speak out against your father's crimes, Draco, when he comes to trial. That can't be sitting well with you..."

Draco's eyes withdrew a fraction and he peered down at his unconsumed tea again, the contents now cold. "I... I'm not sure how to feel, sir. Not so much about you having to give testimony, only whether or not my father should be released."

"Come again?"

Draco met his godfather's confused black eyes, and Hermione's as well. "I've decided I want no part of my father's troubles in the future. If he gets off, he can do what he likes, just as long as he stays away from me."

"Draco..." Severus was visibly stricken by the boy's change of heart and couldn't account for it, but Draco wasn't dissuaded one bit.

"_No, Severus_, I've been through enough. I don't want any part of his theatrics anymore. I don't care. I just want to be in charge of my own life. My mum has to find out what she wants, just as I have. I've decided I don't want anything to do with him anymore; not until—_if_—he changes his ways. That's it."

Hermione was stunned. This didn't at all sound like the snippy, snide Draco Malfoy of the past. She wanted to pinch herself just to be sure this conversation was really taking place, even if such a tactic was inappropriate.

Severus drew one leg over the other and let out a burdensome sigh. "I'm sorry, Draco. I understand your feelings, and I respect them. Just remember: you only have one father. We're all flawed. If he asks for a second chance, I hope you'll give it to him."

Severus's words touched Hermione. She had never heard Severus speak so gently to Draco before. She reached across her chair and wove her hand around his, clasping it tight. Severus didn't so much as flinch. He didn't show any ounce of displeasure at Hermione taking his hand in front of Draco, which, under different circumstances, might have stunned her as well if she weren't distracted by his recent encouragement to Draco.

They spoke only of forgiveness—something Severus hadn't allowed of himself—and Hermione understood then that something else was displaced, not just Draco's changed behavior. Severus, too, was changing, evolving and finally starting to let go, pardoning himself, if only a little. It was a positive step towards healing, and Hermione couldn't have been prouder.

When the witch's attention came back to Draco, the boy was staring at their interlaced hands but didn't look smug or disgusted or even uncomfortable. He was simply examining them without much opinion. Hermione liked that, too.

"I read your statement in the _Prophet_, Granger," he mentioned, turning tables on the conversation. "It was engrossing, I thought."

"Oh?" Hermione quickly realized that she had no reason to come back at him. He wasn't being conceited or putting her down, merely telling her that he enjoyed her editorial. "I'm glad you liked it," she offered instead.

"Someone needed to speak up for Severus. I would have myself if I hadn't been stupidly preoccupied with my father."

"Draco..." Severus started, but the boy shook his head in defiance.

"Forget about it, Severus. Aside from Potter, I'm glad you had _someone_ to stand up for you." He gave a curt nod to both of them. "This is, erm, going to take some adjusting..."

"Indeed," was all Severus came back with, sounding both uncaring and, at the same time, resolute.

Hermione smiled and gave his hand an affection squeeze. "Thanks, Draco."

"I'm not sure what for?"

"Well, I never thanked you properly for getting me safely out of your house, for starters; but also I want to thank you for not speaking out against us, or speaking to the papers."

"Oh..." Draco seemed relatively surprised by her gratitude and shrugged it off as nothing. "Well, it wasn't my place, and anyway, I wanted to speak to Severus about it in person. I just... I don't... How the heck did this all come about?"

Hermione couldn't prevent herself from laughing, but she respectfully waited on Severus to do the talking. He rolled his eyes, not at all wanting to explain, but he did so just the same.

For over an hour the three of them talked, Draco relaying his questions, Severus and Hermione answering patiently—for the most part—and by the time they were through, it was nearly eleven o'clock. Crookshanks had curled up quietly at their feet, the fire blazing in the hearth had almost died out, and Severus was starting to pause and shift in his chair more and more. Hermione suspected he was growing tired of the conversation, so she spoke up for the pair of them, sparing Severus from doing so himself.

"Thanks for stopping by, Draco," she said politely as he went to take his leave via the Floo network.

"Bollocks, Granger," he snorted.

It wasn't abrasive but actually teasing, which she found she rather liked. She met his challenging remark with a smirk.

"Listen, um," Draco ran a hand through his hair, twitching unnaturally. "I've been wanting to tell you something..."

"Yes?"

He hesitated and then took a sharp breath. "I'm sorry for giving you a hard time."

"I'm sorry?"

Hermione was too taken aback to think before it came out and Draco chuckled, well over whatever reservations or nerves he had. "I wasn't nice to you, Granger. I realize that now. I can't say the same for Potter or Weaslebee, but, well, I was particularly nasty to you for... For being Muggle-born. That wasn't right of me. I... I'm sorry."

"Oh... Erm, thank you, Draco. I appreciate that."

Draco nodded and exited Spinner's End so fast that Hermione stared after at the fireplace for a few seconds before her brain caught up with her. She turned around to face Severus, the shock still visible on her pretty features.

"Well,_ that_ went surprisingly well."

"Yes, it did." Severus was carefully getting to his feet, and Hermione caught his small wince of pain at the stiffness in his limbs. "And far too long," he added with a low growl.

"I know, but you owed it to him."

"Yes, well..."

"You tired?"

"A little." Severus sighed and took her quietly by the hand, leading her slowly up the stairs to his—_their_—bedroom. "He won't take too kindly to what I'll be forced to disclose in court."

"You heard him yourself, Severus. He wants nothing to do with Lucius—"

"The man was once my close friend, Hermione," Severus interjected with a feeling she hadn't anticipated. "I'm godfather to his only son. He may be misguided, he may, by all accounts, be a bad man, but I was still very close to him. It... It's not as easy or as black and white as you think."

Once they reached the bedroom, Crookshanks, who had sprung up the stairs behind his masters, hopped onto the edge of the bed and meowed for them to follow suit. "I reckon this can't be easy for you, Severus," Hermione tried to say with as much understanding as she could, "but the alternative was prison."

"I know, Hermione."

"Well, that's something to keep in mind."

"I'm only worried about you."

"Oh, rubbish. Stop worrying about everything for a change."

Severus growled at her as she withdrew to the opposite end of the bed to change out of her clothes. "I can't do that, Hermione. You know I can't—"

"Yes, well, I suppose that's something you'll have to work on."

Severus stared her down across the bed as he undid his cravat. "And, pray, what about you? What do _you_ intend to work on?"

Hermione ruffled her wild curls and flashed him a self-satisfied grin. "Learning how to live with you, for starters."

Severus gave her a blank stare, to which she giggled and hopped into bed, aiming her wand at the fireplace across the room to bring warmth into their cozy, dark quarters. Severus eventually crawled into bed beside her but hadn't said anything in the interim. By then, Hermione had curled up on her side, facing away from him, waiting patiently for what she expected her wizard to do next.

After a minute or two, there came a heavy sigh behind her, followed by movement as he pressed himself up against her, looping an arm comfortably around her waist. Spooning her with his head rested—resigned, rather—against her shoulder, a tired smile emerged on Hermione's poised visage as their bodies snuggled in next to each other. She placed an arm overtop of his, and just as she started to drift off to sleep, Severus awoke her by whispering, "I know I'm not the easiest person to live with..."

"Mmm?" Once her mind caught up with her drowsy state, she leaned back against him, smiling again. "Oh, Severus, I was merely joking."

"I know."

"Then what?"

"Have you given much thought to... To this?"

"This?"

"This life... Us."

Hermione's smile broadened. "Of course I have."

"And?"

"And what? I thought you knew."

"I guess I'm just being..."

"Extra cautious?" When she heard his grunt of a reply, she snickered and yawned into the pillow they shared. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

"Nothing," he replied a little too hastily, but the weary witch at his side hadn't caught on. "Go to sleep, my dear."

Hermione didn't say anything else. Soon enough, she was sleeping soundly, happily wrapped up in her lover's arms.

Severus, however, didn't fall asleep for quite some time. Instead, he listened to the lovely creature beside him breathing evenly and dreaming uninterrupted, unaware of his looming thoughts about the future that were so much about her.

_Wouldn't it be nice_, his mind considered, _to have this... For all time?_


	55. A Series of Surprises

**A/N: Many thanks to Opera777 for making a really lovely photo manip from Chapter 53 of Hermione and Severus in his laboratory at Spinner's End! Be sure to check out her work (link is on my Profile). **

**A lot happens in this chapter, some of it pleasant and some of it not so pleasant...**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 55: A Series of Surprises**

_September 19th._

Hermione didn't feel any differently; not even older. She yawned, stretched, and quietly rolled out of bed earlier than usual, tiptoeing out of the room so as not to wake Severus, who had only come to bed hours before. She knew Severus wouldn't sleep much longer with her now up. For whatever reason, he routinely slept far better when she was in bed with him, and that was it.

As Hermione made her way down to the kitchen, she let her mind wander. She was nineteen; but age hardly factored into how she felt this morning. Hermione had never acted her age. Fitting in with others in the same age range had always been a struggle, well before Hogwarts. Somehow, in some odd way, she thought she should be considerably older than this.

_Maybe as old as Severus_, she snickered to herself as she whisked the stove to life with her wand and started on breakfast. _Handsome old fart._

Cereal and fry-up were about as good as it was going to get for a birthday breakfast. Hermione set about to gathering the needed ingredients, whipping all sorts of food through the air, sprinkling it with sugar—the cereal—or salt and pepper. She fried eggs and strips of bacon, sliced up tomatoes, made some hot, sweet tea, and generally became lost in the commotion of what she was doing. She didn't hear Severus enter the kitchen until he startled her by speaking, in a deeply groggy voice.

"Breakfast already? It's five thirty in the morning."

Hermione nearly dropped the pot of beans she was cooking, whipping her wand in a frantic circle to prevent the extremely hot contents from splattering everywhere. "Merlin, you really _need_ to stop doing that!" she gasped. "One of these days you're going to give me a heart attack!"

Severus, looking properly disheveled and dead-tired, snorted at her across the room, leaning against the open doorway with pieces of hair falling in his eyes. "You're far too young to be the victim of a heart attack, my dear. You needn't worry."

"Not necessarily." She smiled when he blinked at her, confused. "I'm a year older now."

"What?"

Hermione turned back to her cooking, whisking her wand this way and that as she set the kitchen table for two. "I'm a whopping nineteen years old," she said with a bit of sarcasm. "I've got one more year on you now. Well, until your birthday at any rate. When is it again? Oh, January 9th, right?"

"Hold on." Severus ignored her question and strolled into the room, looking appropriately alarmed. "It's your birthday today?"

"Yes."

Not understanding his strange expression, it only dawned on Hermione once his face turned cross, almost glum, that she realized why he was so visibly upset. His cheeks were even blushing.

"You never told me your birthday was coming up..."

"Oh!" Hermione gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry. I didn't think about it, to be honest."

"Well, it would have been nice to know," he growled, glancing away towards the table setting Hermione had set for him.

"You're upset?"

_How sweet..._

"Of course I am!" he snapped, though his voice was still too sluggish to contain its usual bite. "I don't have anything for you. I might have...done..._something_...had I known."

"Oh, Severus," she walked over and planted a light kiss on his cheek, "it's not a big deal. Honest."

"Well, I feel like an arse!"

Hermione laughed softly, swiping a few strands out of his face. She took the liberty of messing up his hair, too; she couldn't help it. He hissed and swatted her hand away.

"Don't be. It doesn't bother me."

Severus sneered and nodded towards the wand in her hand. "Put that away."

"Huh?"

"Sit down."

Severus withdrew his wand from one of the pockets of the robe wrapped around his otherwise naked form and commenced cooking from where she had left off. He stalked to the sink without a word and added the sliced tomatoes, leaving Hermione to do as he asked. Stifling more laughter, Hermine took a seat and watched him humorously with her head in her hand.

After several minutes of silence and looking rather put out, Severus requested as he stirred the beans with his back turned, "I'd like you to take off work today."

By then, Hermione had a cup of tea in her hands and halted as she brought it to her lips. "What? Why?"

"We're going to Diagon Alley."

"We are?" She stared curiously at the back of his head.

"Yes," was all he returned, his voice monotone and unenthusiastic.

"What for?"

"It's your birthday."

Hermione put down her mug, eying him with another warm smile. "But... You hate shopping, don't you?"

"How would you know?"

"Because most men do."

"I'm not every man."

"Oh, bollocks. Don't lie for my benefit."

"Would you just do as I say and go notify your boss?" he demanded with some irritation seeping back into his tone, now that he was more awake.

Hermione snickered but did as the wizard instructed. She ended up being glad of it, too, more than happy with the plans Severus had in mind. They moseyed around for most of the morning in Diagon Alley, stopping at various shops, though Hermione refused to let Severus buy her anything. Money was tight, and, though she thought the gesture ridiculously sweet, she kept up her insistence that she didn't need anything.

Finally, Severus let out an aggravated growl when they exited another store, throwing up his hands dramatically. "For Merlin's sake, Hermione, allow me to buy you something for your birthday!"

"But Severus, I've told you: I really don't need any—"

"Either you pick something out, or_ I'll_ pick it out for you," he threatened, shooting her a heated glare that would unravel most. "And I guarantee you, you won't like whatever I pick out for you, so decide."

Hermione sighed, gave up, and resorted to letting Severus purchase a few books on her 'To Read' list. But the day wasn't anywhere near over, and Severus apparently had more in mind than just shopping. He surprised her next by taking her to an upscale restaurant in central Muggle London—an intimately small French restaurant he apparently frequented alone over the years. She had never been to such a place but found the atmosphere both intimate and cozy. She and Severus kept to themselves in a corner. His wardrobe garnered a few raised eyebrows, but, for the most part, they were entirely left to themselves, which was all she could have wanted.

They ended the afternoon strolling the Thames River for what turned into a several hours excursion, unaware of how much time was passing. They walked and conversed about anything and everything, enjoying comfortable lapses of silence and some people watching as they enjoyed the afternoon in each other's company.

It was a much better birthday than Hermione would have ever planned herself, but it wasn't the books or the fancy restaurant or the delicious French cuisine or even the hearty breakfast that she and Severus shared that morning. It was spending the entire day with him and ignoring everything else, even the stack of owls that had arrived from Harry, the Weasleys, and others in the interim while they were out.

Severus took Hermione straight to bed and kept her hostage for the rest of the evening, not that it felt as such. For Hermione, it was the cherry on top of the icing to what had turned into the best birthday she had ever had. So far.

"How are you going to top this next year?" she teased him, curling up after a third round of lovemaking with one leg wrapped through his.

"By giving you nothing," he returned in his usual hiss, for which she smacked his chest and let him swaddle her appropriately.

"That would be very cruel of you, Severus Snape."

"It was cruel of _you_ not to even drop a hint that your birthday was coming up."

"Is that what girls are supposed to do? Give their men a head's up so that they can run out and purchase something extravagant and unnecessary?"

"Generally, yes. Though I can't speak from experience."

Hermione nestled her nose against his ear. "Thank you," she whispered, taking a moment to peck his cheek several times in gratitude. "This was all really wonderful."

"It was?"

Hermione saw the infamous arched eyebrow, that subtle glance of suspicion lining his profile. She sighed and shook her head, brushing her curls against the side of his face as he twirled a strand or two behind her head.

"I... I'm not good at this sort of thing," he surprised her by confessing, albeit quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"Taking a lady out for a meal, treating her, buying her something, trying to... To make her happy."

Hermione surveyed him silently for a long moment, soaking in the man's lack of confidence. That vulnerability and worry was etched across his face again, the kind that made her chest constrict whenever it chose to rear its heard. She brought an arm across his chest and raised her head to stare into his eyes with conviction and, she hoped, reassurance.

"Oh, Severus, you're fine. You did _more_ than fine today."

"You... You're sure?"

"_Yes, of course_, you frustrating sod." She bent her neck to tenderly capture his mouth and brushed a hand through his tresses once she was done expressing her appreciation again. "Don't worry or think about it so much, would you?"

"That's easier said than done."

Hermione giggled, her cheeks glowing against the light emitting from the fireplace across the room. "Severus, I fell in love with you way before all of this. I'm simple, you know that. I don't need luxurious gifts or fancy wining and dining to make me happy. It's nice," she added, "don't get me wrong, love, but I don't need all that to be fulfilled."

"If you say so," he smirked, stroking his index finger along the grooves of her mouth. His dark eyes, open and unimpaired, searched hers thoughtfully before, in a hushed voice, he wished her another happy birthday, then proceeded to kiss her and bring her into his embrace once more.

* * *

The trials went on for much longer than Hermione predicted. The process felt never-ending, grueling, emotionally trying for Severus—even if he did his best not to show it—and pressed them nearly round-the-clock as a result of the latest headlines making _The Daily Prophet_. It was all that everyone talked about—incessantly—and Hermione was exhausted as much as Severus was after mere days. Trials were delayed or went on longer than anticipated, but, by November, many had been caught and sentenced to a significant—if not permanent—period of time in Azkaban prison.

Lucius Malfoy was sentenced to five years for his crimes, a considerably lenient time period compared to the rest of his comrades, or those who had been caught so far. The glaring and contempt that went back and forth between him and Severus in the courtroom during the man's trial was not at all pleasant to watch. Hermione was more than a little relieved once Severus's testimony was concluded, though it only meant several more to go before the end was in sight.

"None of them will ever see fit to forgive me," Severus deducted easily enough, speaking more particularly of Lucius, Avery, and Mulciber, his one-time closest friends.

"I'm sorry, Severus." Hermione wasn't really sure what other comforting words to offer him, but Severus did his best to shrug it off one night in late November.

"It's just as well," he concluded, though he sounded a bit saddened. "They've been hopelessly brainwashed by the Dark Lord. I don't think they'd ever be able to recoup and reenter society after everything that's happened. Well, Lucius maybe, but the others..."

"That's probably true." Hermione scooted into the crook of Severus's arm and kissed his exposed chest, staring off at a shadowy corner of the room. "Sometimes I wonder if it all really happened. Voldemort... The Horcruxes... The final battle... Everyone we lost... Seems so long ago already, doesn't it?"

Severus moved her closer to him by wrapping his arm more firmly around her back. "Perhaps," he whispered, nudging his nose against her forehead.

"I guess it wouldn't be for you, would it?"

"No, not really."

Hermione, though hesitant, broached a topic of conversation she had been wanting to question Severus about since the trials began. "Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Everything you've mentioned in testimonies about what you and the Death Eaters did..."

Her hesitation, to Severus, was easy enough to decipher. "You want to know if I actively took part in all of it, the tortures, the assaults..."

There was no reluctance on his part, not even nerves. "Yes..." Hermione found herself whispering, her voice hushed and a bit strained.

"I did."

The silence that followed was stifling. Hermione pressed herself into his chest, holding him tighter.

"Even... Even the women?" she asked more particularly, as it was a topic that had surfaced frequently in court. "That... That were tortured, assaulted, killed?"

"I'm afraid so," came his slow response, unwavering and reserved. "I was forced to actively participate once, but it was one time too many. It was part of my recruitment, actually, as it was for everyone. After that, I was instructed to watch and ensure that they didn't try anything or get away."

He let out a burdensome sigh, his voice mangled with guilt. "I'm not sure which was worse: being forced to look into their eyes when I...did what I did...or when I helplessly watched their torment and did nothing. Both were equally hard to stomach." Severus paused, reflecting in the shadows as his fingers lightly traced the smooth contours of Hermione's back, including some of her lingering scars from Voldemort's hex. "That's how I lost my virginity."

"What?" Hermione's head twisted to meet his, startled and surprised.

"I was eighteen," he continued candidly, though Hermione understood the monotone confession was only to protect himself emotionally as he disclosed something that, she knew, was painful and horrific to expose. "I was a relatively new recruit at the time, and I was requested to take the virginity of a young girl we had captured, then perform Legilimency on her to test my skills; she was fifteen. Sasha, I believe, was her name. She was a half-blood, and the Dark Lord had already disposed of her mother, a prominent Muggle-born witch who worked as a secretary for the Minister.

"No one knew I was inexperienced, but then, it didn't really matter to them anyhow. It was all about proving myself, that I was worthy to be a part of his ranks. When the Dark Lord commanded you to do something, you did so without hesitation, or else lost your life, so I... I did it. It was humiliating, indecent, and I'm not sure I've ever hated myself more, aside from hurting Lily and you... There's nothing worse than forcing yourself on someone. I'm convinced of that."

"Severus..."

Hermione was barely breathing, listening to his ghastly confession with eyes wide open; she was both caught up in his disclosure and stricken by the magnitude of his crime.

"I remember that she was surprisingly mute throughout most of it, but I think she was also too visibly shocked to make sense of what was happening to her. In a way, that made it easier, as sick as that sounds. It was difficult enough to look her in the face, but her eyes... They were glazed over, hopeless, and she didn't struggle. I think she was already broken by the time I was commanded to take her chastity. She just laid there... Like a corpse.

"It was bloody awful," his voice suddenly caught at the back of his throat; Hermione wondered if her lover was even aware he was still talking. "I was too much of a coward to even try to make it the least bit enjoyable to her. I know that's fucking ridiculous, stupid, even. I couldn't have, but... I tried to be gentle at first, mainly because I didn't know what the hell I was doing, but that thoroughly displeased the Dark Lord. Everyone was watching. I was told to be more aggressive, and the entire time the Dark Lord had his wand directed at me, egging me on, which made performing the act even more difficult..."

Hermione wanted to be ill, both for the girl and for Severus. A hard-hitting reality hit Hermione that night as she listened to the man's confession. Even in his youth, even during his first sexual encounter, it wasn't at all a pleasurable experience as it should have been.

_As it was for me_, she reflected, heartbroken. _Oh, Severus..._

Hermione nuzzled her cheek against a few of the scars along his collarbone. "So, even losing your virginity was a horrible experience," she whispered aloud, half regretting even bringing the topic up now. "Even then, he took that from you..."

"Yes," was all he seemed capable of managing in return.

"Whatever happened to Sasha?"

There was a lapse in conversation before he answered, and, by then, Hermione suspected what his answer was going to be. "She was killed."

Hermione's arm tightened around Severus's waist. "Did you..." she asked, bracing herself for the worse.

"No, it wasn't me. Mulciber was ordered to take care of her." Hermione's shoulders relaxed a little, but she hardly felt any better. "I mentally blocked out the incident as best I could, which isn't right, I know, considering my responsibility in it all but..."

Hermione wasn't only mentally frozen, she felt relatively cold as well. _No wonder he doesn't discuss the wars in detail_, she reflected miserably as they lay intertwined amongst the shadows.

"I'm sorry," he apologized in a soft whisper. "Should I not have shared that with you?"

"I... I'm not sure," Hermione confessed quietly. She felt his grip around her loosen and added quickly, "I suppose it would have come up sooner or later. I've been curious about asking for some time now who your first time was with."

"Mmm. Now you know... Someone too young, the experience was unbearable, and it's something I wish I could put out of my mind for good. Well, more than that, I wish I could take it back."

"I know you do, Severus. I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be sorry for me. Be sorry for her and all the others it happened to."

"I am. I'm sorry for all of you. None of you obviously deserved it."

"Yes, well, she didn't take anything from me. It was all the opposite."

"Severus—"

"It's true."

His fingers continued to stroke up and down her spine, and neither one of them said anything else for some time, to the point that both thought perhaps the other had fallen asleep, until Hermione shifted beneath the duvet. Severus brushed his chin against her array of curls, inhaling her scent as he lay silently at her side, unsure and apprehensive about what Hermione was thinking.

"How did you _not_ go insane?" she suddenly blurted out into the isolating darkness.

Severus chuckled, his laughter brief and soft. "I did for a while."

"It's not fair."

"Don't speak of fairness, Hermione, remember?"

"Will you tell me more? I mean, when you're ready?"

"If you'd like..." He paused. "Although, most women wouldn't want to know anything else after what I just shared. Actually, they'd be on their merry way right about now. You _are_ a strange one."

Hermione smacked his arm and raised her head to be eye level with him. "Stop it, you."

"But you are," he smirked, though there was a unmistakable despondency in his eyes, and for her alone to see.

"Yes, well, I also understand that it wasn't fair on all fronts, Severus. What you did wasn't right—_not at all_—and my heart aches for the many women that happened to. I know how fortunate I am, for one...

"But you didn't want to do it, Severus. For Merlin's sake, you had Voldemort ready to kill you if you didn't, and you were young... Merlin knows what any of my male peers might have done if forced into a situation like that. They were extreme circumstances, love. If you had had a prayer of saving her, I know you would have tried."

"I'm not so sure."

"That's because you've always doubted your goodness and sincerity. No... You were young and afraid, just like any other teenage boy would be."

Hermione hesitated on the tail end of her sentence, unsure of how Severus might take her genuine observation about fear. He _was_ frightened, even if he wasn't about to admit it to himself. He surprised her, however, by remaining surprisingly open about her commentary.

"You find an excuse for everything," he grumbled, though not irritably.

"No, I just try to understand situations from all sides."

"Indeed, you do." His hand reached around her back to rub at her cheek. "And I'm grateful for that... You're one of the few who I daresay could ever understand me. You _are_ the only one."

Hermione couldn't deny in her heart that Severus was probably right on that point, but she chose not to acknowledge it. Instead, she bent over him to kiss his lips, her arms enfolding him in a warm hug, as he, too, pressed her against his chest, latching both arms around her back.

"Speaking of understanding," she chimed once they were through snogging, "have you given any thought to what you want to do when the trials are over?"

Hermione was somewhat desperate now to get off this morbid topic before it consumed them both with despair. She could only hope Severus would comply as he leaned back to consider her question.

The trials would hopefully be concluded in a manner of weeks, and Hermione had been giving increasing thought to her parents. The Christmas holiday was also fast approaching, and it was just another reason her mind was reflecting on them so much. Last year had been her first Christmas without them, and this year would likely be the same.

"What did you have in mind?" He indulged her with a small smile, which brought her some relief to see. "Your parents?" he added, reading her mind.

"Yes..."

"When?"

"I was thinking maybe after the holidays. The trials won't be over for another couple of weeks, and I'd rather have a relaxing Christmas for a change. Uneventful, unfussy, just you and me."

"As compared to last year?"

"Mmm," she agreed, nodding her head solemnly. "Maybe a midnight mass?"

Severus's smirk grew wider and the depression in his eyes from before lifted. "Whatever you'd like."

"I'd like a little more encouragement than that," she scolded, pursing her lips.

"Very well. _Yes._"

"And then my parents?"

"And then your parents," he repeated, watching a satisfied grin map its way across Hermione's cheeks.

"Doesn't the prospect of meeting my mum and dad make you the slightest bit nervous?"

"Of course not," he hissed, making her break out into fits of laughter as he pinned her to his chest. "Why would it?"

"Erm, well, they may not take too kindly to you..."

"And why is that?" he provoked, bearing his teeth.

"Hmm, well, let's see... You're sarcastic, crass, difficult to read, dark and mysterious... Oh, and you're considerably older than me."

"Considerably?" he growled, low and dangerous; she snickered as he brought his protruding nose to hers, his eyes turning into slits.

"You're actually only a little more than a decade younger than my father."

Severus withdrew his proximity, his head falling against the pillow. "Well, _that_ wasn't at all off putting."

Hermione laughed loudly and shoved her nose back against his. "Do I look at all bothered?"

"No, and therein lies the problem."

"You're hopeless."

"You're not."

"Oh?"

"Mmm, perhaps your parents will _finally_ convince you to see reason."

"Bollocks. No one convinces me to see anything, Severus. I make my own observations and stick by my decisions. Haven't you learned?"

"No, just resigned myself to the fact that I'm smarter, know better, and you just won't admit to it."

"Git."

"Know-it-all."

Hermione drew her mouth to his, slipping her tongue inside his mouth, as he did likewise, deepening the kiss. Somewhere at the edge of the bed, Crookshanks meowed softly—or was it a growl?—as the two lovers proceeded to fill and satisfy their needs for the evening.

* * *

"Interesting."

Hermione shot him a sly smirk. "You don't like it?"

"It's invasive, for one." Severus's eyebrows came together as he glanced over the interview Hermione had given for _The Quibbler_. "When did you give this interview?"

"Ages ago."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Because I knew you'd be cross and try to dissuade me from doing so. It was Luna's idea," she added, immediately realizing her silly blunder.

"And that's supposed to make me feel reassured?" He shook his head and magically stirred his coffee with his index finger circling the air. "I don't see why this was necessary."

"To get back at all the wrongful things said in the _Prophet_." Severus gave her a reprimanding look that was reminiscent of her school days, but she ignored it. "And I thought it was a good suggestion on Luna's part. She did a wonderful job, Severus. _The Prophet_ hasn't given us a chance, _The Quibbler_ did."

Severus read the article in more depth as Hermione sat across from him at the kitchen table, waiting anxiously on the edge of her chair. She had purposely kept the magazine out of sight, but Severus discovered it amongst her belongings earlier that morning. Hermione was a bit taken aback that he didn't seem nearly as put out by it as she expected him to be. She had been trying to work up the nerve to show it to him for weeks, nervous of what his reaction might be, but so far, his response was proving much more favorable than anticipated.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't make any references to our first sexual encounter," he drawled once he was through, throwing the magazine down in the center of the table and giving her a stern expression. His eyes were quite lighthearted, however, which helped her relax.

"Do you think I should have?" she baited lightly.

Severus raised an eyebrow, keeping his face rigid. "Headmaster abandons his post to seek out former student half his age to shag her in the woods in the middle of the night?" Severus brought his coffee mug to his lips. "No, I'm quite glad you didn't."

"It would have made the interview much more enticing, you have to admit."

"One would assume."

"Do wizards make a habit of doing that?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"It's a shame when you think about it. It's quite fun, actually. They don't know what they're missing."

"Indeed."

The two stared at each from across the table, eying one another with silent playfulness. Finally, Hermione levitated her empty coffee cup to the sink and rose from her seat, crossing the table to bend over Severus to kiss him goodbye.

"See you later?"

"If you're lucky," he tested her in a silky-smooth purr that made her spine tingle.

"I'll get the latest issue from Luna on Friday when we meet for lunch. There's apparently been an overwhelmingly positive response to the interview, according to her. Does that make you feel better?"

Severus considered her face for a moment before answering, his mouth cast in a sneer, "Marginally."

Hermione gave a dramatic eye roll and leaned in for another kiss before leaving the wizard to his own devices. "Don't forget your appointment with Augustus today!" she called from down the hallway, to which Severus gave an eye roll of his own.

"Yes, boss!"

"Bugger!"

"You're one to talk!"

He heard the muffled noise of the Floo network, informing him that Hermione was now gone, and fell back in his chair, surveying the magazine from his comfortable spot. After a moment, he curled his upper lip.

_As if the public doesn't know enough about me as it is._

Sighing, he gingerly got to his feet and winced at the stiffness in his legs. As had become his morning routine, he set about working on a new combination of elixirs for his ever-changing condition. His regular appointments at St. Mungo's had continued, but to very little effect. His condition hadn't worsened—a very positive sign in itself—but it also hadn't improved much. As far as Severus was concerned, continuing to visit the Healer was proving futile and a waste of his time, but he wasn't interested in Hermione's nagging and reprimanding for not being compliant; that gave him pause and much inner amusement.

_Who'd have thought..._

Severus retreated to his lab, only something else soon distracted him from his work and pressed on his mind. It had been surfacing more and more in recent weeks, and he hardly knew how to handle broaching the subject.

Hermione's sentiments about him were quite clear, so he shouldn't have been so hesitant. _It's you, Severus_, his conscience chastised him. _You need to get past this. Stop being so bloody insecure. You love her, and she loves you. Merlin knows why, but she does..._

_You need to start considering the future. For all you know, she may already have given it a lot of thought._ A wave of panic compressed his chest like a great weight. _Shit. What if she's expecting it? What if you're already running the risk of disappointing her, without even knowing it? Surely, she probably is expecting something by now..._

Crookshanks, who was seated on Severus's work bench, as had become his regular hang out, meowed to get the wizard's attention. Severus cast his eyes upon the orange half-Kneazle, who wiggled his nose and meowed a second time.

"I don't need _your_ opinion, fur ball," he groused, turning away from the feline to slice up some scarab beetles.

Crookshanks simply curled up and watched Severus unreservedly as he continued to mull things over in his head. _What would she even like? Do I even know her style? Damn it, of course I don't__._

_How would I even... This is foolish. I'd just make an arse of myself. And anyway, what if..._ He stopped mid-brew, his eyes flickering unnaturally. _What if she said no? Then what? What if she loves you but isn't interested in that sort of a future? Or what if she has reservations you're not even aware of?_

Steam suddenly began to hiss from his cauldron, distracting his thoughts, and the contents of the brew he was working on turned an emerald green. The potion was ruined.

"Damn it!" he cursed aloud, casting the fire out beneath the cauldron and setting to making a fresh brew. "You're getting far too distracted and excited over this, Severus," he said aloud, though there was only Crookshanks to hear his thoughts. "You need to feel her out and really figure out what she wants first."

_For all you know_, the morbid thought fleetingly crossed his mind, _maybe she loves you but not enough to make that kind of commitment. And there are no guarantees you're going to be around anyway, Severus. You know that..._


	56. A Solemn Promise

**A/N: Readers who've read the original _Unquestionable Love_ might recognize another scene later on in this chapter. Again, more has been added to it, so it isn't just a rehash. I hope you enjoy it...  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 56: A Solemn Promise**

"What are my chances, Augustus?"

"I'm sorry?"

"My long-term prognosis," Severus said slowly, doing his best not to sound or act irritated with his Healer, whom he now felt relatively comfortable enough around to let his reservations show just a little.

His appointment with Healer Pye had nearly concluded, but this topic was something they hadn't discussed at any great length. It was time, Severus knew, to get a better handle on what his chances were in the long run. It wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to having whatsoever, but, for his own peace of mind, he wasn't content just 'taking it day by day,' as Augustus had been telling him far too often as of late.

Augustus stopped jotting notes in Severus's chart and eyed his patient over carefully. "You're doing much better than I anticipated."

"For now," Severus added, emphasizing each word.

"Yes, for now."

"But down the road?"

"I... That's still uncertain, Severus."

"Humor me."

His tone was calm, yet assertive and direct; he didn't blink or look away either, which, to most, would be very unnerving. Augustus, however, wasn't intimidated. There was a nervous tick that surfaced on his face, however—one that probably no one else would have caught but Severus—that told the wizard that, whatever the Healer's thoughts were, they weren't necessarily promising.

"I'm not convinced that, in the long-term, you'll be able to sustain your health on these tonics alone," he answered quite delicately. "That's my greatest concern at the moment: that we come up with a handful of elixirs that can combat your problems, not just temporarily but on a long-term basis. Your symptoms are ever-changing and evolving, and it remains to be seen how many combinations we can put together that will keep you steady. That doesn't mean the situation's hopeless, Severus, it just makes the future very ambiguous, in your case."

"Answer me straight, Augustus," Severus sighed, more weary now at not getting the clarity he sought. "If a cure isn't found in X-amount of time, will I die?" He paused, letting the weight of his words fill the room, as the Healer stared at him in a dreaded silence. "How long do I _really_ have?"

"Severus, I... I honestly don't know."

"Then give me an estimate."

"Severus, you could live a few more months or you could live for several more years. I... I really couldn't say."

"So much for Healers," Severus sniped under his breath without even realizing it.

By the time he did, he found Augustus surveying him with a rare frown, but the Healer didn't appear all that cross with his snide bit of commentary. If anything, he was sympathetic, something Severus rather openly detested.

"I'm as frustrated as you are, Severus, believe me—"

"I don't wish to prolong things if the end result doesn't justify the means."

"Severus, I know this is a lot for you, but please don't get discouraged. You are making progress."

"Progress?" Severus dismissed Augustus's positive thinking with a sarcastic snort. "Just this morning I woke up with chest pains that I haven't had in months. And my temper has been getting more out of hand than usual, thankfully when Hermione isn't around, but it's only a matter of time before she'll take notice."

"Severus, this is all just a part of the circumstances you've been dealt with. The venom is complicated and—"

"There's no cure, Augustus. Will you at least admit that to me, as your patient, and spare me your riveting words of encouragement that I 'keep going' when we both know my chances are slim."

"Severus, please—"

"We've been dancing around this issue for too long," Severus growled, keeping his voice steady and in control, "and I'm tired. I just want to know how long I've got."

"Severus, I've told you," Augustus stated patiently, "I can't give you an estimate. Your health is changing all the time. I wish I could give you a long-term prognosis. I really do, but I can't.

"Please try to understand that I want to help you; I'd very much like to see you get well and not have to—"

"Would you?" Severus interjected, his voice, to Augustus, surprisingly quiet, even frail.

"Of course I would," the Healer tried to assure him, speaking just as softly. "I told Hermione before, when you were still in a comatose state, that my job is to help and to heal, _not_ pass judgment. I _do_ want to help you, Severus. I sincerely do."

"Very well."

Severus turned away and stared at the wall, his face expressionless and without much regard for anything. Noticing his somber demeanor, Augustus closed his chart and laid it on his lap, looking his patient over with care.

"Severus," Augustus began, and the dark wizard turned his attention back to him, only this time there was a strange sort of determination in his black eyes that took the Healer aback.

"Are we finished?" he asked before Augustust could continue.

The Healer paused before answering, "Yes, but—"

"I must go."

"Severus, just a moment—"

"_No._"

The finality and frankness in Severus's tone of voice closed the matter. He rose from the bed upon which he had been sitting and stared down at a befuddled and visibly concerned Augustus.

"If we are through, than I have some important matters to attend to."

With that, and without awaiting a reply, Severus stalked out of the room, his robes billowing behind him as he left. _You selfish bastard, Severus!_ he snarled as he flew down a cramped, buzzing corridor that was far too loud against his pounding headache. _What on earth were you thinking, believing you might have a chance at a future with her?_

* * *

Severus had been relatively quiet since the morning he found _The Quibbler_. Even showing him the positive responses to the article that had been printed in the latest edition didn't resolve the man's muteness, and Hermione was growing concerned.

"Are you really that angry about it?" she finally confronted him nearly a week later, albeit timidly, one evening following dinner.

"What?" he blinked, looking distracted. "No, I'm not."

"Oh... Well, you _seem_ like you're upset?"

"I'm not upset," he replied, a bit testy.

Hermione had had enough and crossed her arms. "All right, then what's wrong?"

She was quite nervous by this point. Had she done something? Had she said something wrong? Was this odd behavior on account of his strange temperament infliction coming on again, or was it something else?

"Nothing's wrong," he sighed, exacerbated; obviously, he was lying, which Hermione didn't approve of. "Would you get off my back? _I'm fine!_"

"Then why are you getting so angry?"

"Because it's a nuisance!"

Hermione backed away from the kitchen sink, where they had both been standing. "What? Me asking if you're all right is a nuisance to you?"

"_Yes!_"

"I didn't think asking after how you are was such a trying thing," she returned with a glare that matched his, only it was mangled with hurt.

"I'm not going to argue about this."

Severus brushed past her to the hallway, and Hermione, though stunned, stormed off after him, following him all the way into the library and down to his lab, though he didn't acknowledge her once. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, watching him heatedly as he set to lining up several different ingredients along his work bench with a few flicks of his wand.

"So, now you're going to ignore me?" she tested him, injured by his silence.

"You chose to come down here," he curtly replied, his voice cold and detached. It was nearly like a smack to the face, and Hermione all but jerked at the impact. She wasn't used to such coldness from him anymore. "I'm working. If you wish to stand there and watch, that's your decision."

Hermione stood frozen at the edge of the lab, observing him without moving. He didn't look up or acknowledge her presence again, even after several minutes of stiffling silence. Wounded and deeply confused by what she might have done, Hermione finally backed away to the stairwell.

"I'll leave you alone then," she whispered, as if she had no voice at all.

Hermione turned around and began to trudge up the stairs. Severus peered up and caught a glimpse of the back of her before she was out of sight, his mouth tightly bound as she disappeared from view.

_Way to go, Severus_, he snarkily commended himself. _Just one more reason why Hermione is foolish to stay and put up with you..._

Severus worked in the lab much later than he anticipated. The latest elixir he had tried to produce for one of his many afflictions was yet another failed attempt.

"Nothing," he growled, sighing in defeat.

Throwing off his gloves and cleaning the lab quickly with his wand, Severus returned to the library and glanced at the clock on the mantel. Two in the morning.

_She'll be in bed asleep by now. Just as well._

When Severus entered the bedroom, his calculation was correct. Hermione was turned away in bed, buried beneath the covers as Crookshanks slept near her feet. Her curls were spread out over her pillow, and she didn't so much as elevate her head when he came in the room, telling him that she must, indeed, be fast asleep.

Severus undressed quickly and crawled into bed beside her, shifting carefully so as not to wake her up. He examined the back of her head for a while, soaking in all those wild, luminous curls that he loved. Did she know it? His finger unconsciously twirled one of her ringlets as he studied her slumbering form, guilt-ridden and ashamed with his behavior from earlier.

Unbeknownst to him, however, Hermione hadn't, in fact, fallen asleep. She laid in bed for hours, wondering when he might come upstairs. She had also been pondering his odd behavior that evening.

It was one of the first arguments that had happened at Spinner's End, and Hermione wasn't comfortable at all with where things currently stood. She didn't even know why exactly, only that Severus had been acting rather distant for days.

When she heard him come in, Hermione couldn't bring herself to look over at him, still tending to her emotional wounds from earlier that night. So, she lay silent, wondering if the man might curl up against her as he always did, but tonight, apparently, he wasn't planning on it, or maybe he wasn't even interested. And that possibility, as well as not having his arms wrapped around her, hurt more than anything...

Hermione waited and waited but he didn't so much as touch her, or so she thought, not aware of him twirling her hair behind her for some time. Just as she was about to give up and try to drift off to sleep, she felt a warm arm reach itself around her to tuck in at her waist, and she froze. His head perched itself in between her shoulder and neck, kissing it lightly, as he pressed himself close to her; but he didn't say anything.

Hermione shifted in his embrace, feeling much cosier now, and turned her head slightly, letting him know she was awake. "Are you all right?" she asked very softly, waiting on his reply, which didn't come right away.

Severus eventually arched his neck to kiss her cheek, and Hermione relaxed more. "Yes," he returned, his voice faint. "I'm sorry."

Hermione smiled a little, warmed at receiving his apology, and gently began tracing his arm with her fingers beneath the covers. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Don't you want to sleep?"

"No, I... I'm fine. Do you?"

"Not yet, no."

"Very well."

There was another pause, one that wasn't comfortable like all the others had been. "I'm sorry, Hermione..." Severus unexpectedly repeated, only quieter.

Hermione fully turned her head to meet his eyes, now very close to her face. Even in the darkness, she could decipher how dejected they were. She instinctively leaned in to kiss him, and he responded back.

"What's wrong?" she asked once their lips parted.

Severus let out a weighty sigh and snuggled his face into the nape of her neck, getting lost in all her thick curls. "I guess I'm just out of sorts since seeing Augustus earlier this week. I'm sorry... I didn't mean to get snippy with you."

"Oh?" Hermione's interest heightened, as did her nerves; she ignored his third apology, more concerned with what he wasn't telling her. "You told me everything went fine."

"It... It did."

"But?" she pressed, more urgently.

"He couldn't give me a direct answer about... About how long I have."

Hermione's eyelashes fluttered. "What?"

"I... I wanted to know how long I have, Hermione. It's something I think we both deserve to know at this point, don't you think?"

Hermione couldn't answer straight away. She was paralyzed, pained and distraught by such an idea. She had purposely gone out of her way _not_ to think too much on what the future might hold for Severus's condition, and having it brought up out of the blue was more than a tad hard to stomach.

"Severus, don't talk like that. You're doing fine, and we'll just keep adjusting your tonics until a cure is found."

"There is no cure, Hermione." He sounded quite adamant on that point, but his voice itself was feeble.

Hermione jerked in his arms. "You don't know that, Severus," she tried to insist with as much calm and collectedness as possible.

"Hermione, if, between myself and St. Mungo's, we can't figure out how to combat the venom inside me, then we both know what that means... Ultimately..."

"Severus,_ don't._ I don't want to hear you talk like this. It's defeated talk, and I won't have it."

"But aren't you..." He paused to draw breath. "Aren't you worried about your future?"

"_Our_ future, Severus," Hermione corrected him, moving closer to kiss him again. "And of course I'm worried, but we don't know what's going to happen."

His eyes searched hers carefully, as if looking for a solution. "And that doesn't frighten you?"

Hermione could tell by the delicacy with which Severus phrased the question that he was afraid, and it made her breath stall. She rolled over onto her side facing him and brought a hand to his cheek.

"It frightens me, yes, but I choose to focus on the here and now, love. I live in the moment—with you—and you should, too."

"But..."

"Severus, we really don't know what might happen at any given moment. Augustus doesn't know any more than you or I. For all we know, I could go before you—"

"Don't say that," Severus snapped, his eyes flickering against the darkness.

"But it's true." Hermione lovingly stroked the side of his face as he inadvertently rubbed her back. "The future's _always_ uncertain, love—for everyone, including us. It won't do either of us any good to think that far ahead. Live in the moment, Severus. Don't focus on what might happen tomorrow, next week, next year. Live in the here and now. You're alive, as am I, and we're together. Isn't that enough?"

"I..." Severus seemed caught on what to say but resolved to offer her a quiet "yes," in return.

"I, for one, think there is a cure for your condition, and it's just going to take much longer than we thought it would to uncover. In the meantime, we'll adjust your tonics, we'll try different forms of treatment, _we'll do whatever we can_, Severus. But please... Don't give up."

"I - I'm not, I just..."

"You want to be in control," Hermione finished with the glimpse of a smile that made him glower.

"I can't help it," he mumbled, sounding, to her, much like a child.

"I know you can't."

There was another drawn out pause, only it was reminiscent of the comfortable silences that often passed between them. Staring deep into her eyes, Severus's face grew reflective and solemn in the shadows, and his next words made Hermione's happier attitude short-lived. Rather, they scared her.

"I'm frightened, Hermione." She stopped stroking his cheek, staring at him without so much as breathing. "I... I don't want to leave you. I don't want to die..."

Hermione couldn't speak. She felt incapacitated as she gazed, stunned, at the exposed wizard lying beside her, looking terribly vulnerable and weakened all of a sudden. The brutal honesty he displayed was unlike anything she had ever seen before. He had probably never expressed himself so openly to anyone in his life, and Hermione could sense it as well as she knew herself. She could feel her own emotional response creeping to the surface as well, and the last thing she wanted to do was lose her composure; so, she fought it, beating it into submission, continuing to cradle Severus's face in her hands.

"Severus... I don't want you to die either. You're _not_ going anywhere. You're going to be fine. You... You _have_ to be fine." She brought her forehead to his with a heavy sigh, trying to keep her emotions in check. "It's all right to be afraid. It's nothing to be ashamed of, Severus. I - I'm scared, too; but we can't focus on that possibility. We shouldn't."

Severus didn't say anything, only gazed at her longingly; either he was simply reflecting, Hermione considered, or, worse, trying to suppress his own fears. Hermione weaved an arm around his neck, bringing him into a secure, tightly-knit embrace. She felt him respond back, pinning her to his chest in earnest, though his body had begun to tremble. Hermione responded by squeezing him tighter.

"After what I experienced that night in the Shrieking Shack," Severus whispered, as she hung onto every word. "After what I went through that night Nagini attacked me, I... I never want to go through that ever again, Hermione. Dying is... It's terrifying. Everything goes black. Everything just fades away. You just...sort of...go..."

Hermione shivered at Severus's description of his brush with death. He hadn't ever told her what that was like, and it certainly wasn't something she ever would have pressed him to share. Hearing it now left her cold and bothered; she clung to him harder than before. All she could think of was to hold him, so she did, letting him confess his fears to her without interruption.

"I'm sorry," he unexpectedly apologized. "I'm being morbid."

Hermione allowed herself to laugh, though only a little. "Yes, you are; but it's all right, Severus. I don't want you to keep these things to yourself. It's all right to tell someone. You don't have to hold back all the time."

"I know."

"Just tell me what's going on, all right? Don't leave me guessing like tonight. Don't shut me out. Talk to me, Severus. Please..."

"I will." He turned his head to lightly press his lips to her cheek. "You put up with an awful lot from me, and I'm well-aware of it."

"Severus..."

"You do. Either you're a saint or crazy, and I'm thinking the latter."

Hermione smiled into his shoulder. Without warning, she drove her hands down his back and pinched his buttocks. Severus startled, letting out a faint hiss as he reared back to meet her playful expression.

"Witch," he sneered.

"Git."

Severus let out a low rumble of a growl that made her spine tingle. Before she knew it, Severus had rolled over top of her and had her wrists pinned above her head, smothering her with kiss after kiss. It wasn't long before Hermione was moaning in pleasure, her entire body aching for more. What had been a bad evening had, by the end, turned into something a hell of a lot better.

_It'll be fine_, Hermione reflected, her last passing thought before she was consumed by Severus's lips, tongue, hands, all of him. _It _has_ to be fine..._

* * *

The trials of the Death Eaters ended in mid-December. It certainly put a damper on the holidays with everything from the war—all the deaths, tortures, destructions, ruined lives of those the Death Eater's took—constantly making headline after headline. Hermione couldn't have been happier once they were concluded. There were still many Death Eaters yet to be accounted for, but Severus's part in giving valid testimony was over, leaving them finally free to go about and rebuild their lives; or so she could only hope.

Christmas was fast approaching, bringing with it Severus's less than merry attitude about its "overblown theatrics." Hermione didn't care about his surly attitude, however. She was grateful—enthused at having a stress free holiday, one she would actually be able to celebrate this year, minus her parents.

_That_ put an added gloom on things. She had always been so close to her parents. How would they be spending the holidays? They were half the world away, and Hermione couldn't withhold her sadness and grief.

Whenever she and Severus decided to pay them a visit, would they be able to reverse what she had done? More to the point, could her parents find it within themselves to forgive what their daughter had done to them, and without their consent?

"They'll probably be angry at first," Severus expressed gently to her late one evening, trying his best to be sensitive to the injury she was nursing. "They might lash out or not want to hear your reasoning, but give them some time. You're their daughter. One way or another, they deserve to know and understand the truth."

"Yes..."

"Hermione, you saved their lives. They may not understand it, but you and I do, and everyone else who's anyone in our world knows _why_ you did what you did."

"What if they throw me out? What if they cast me out of their lives?"

Severus considered her thoughtfully for a time before answering, "We'll cross that bridge if it comes to it. And if it does, you have your friends and... Me." His hair fell forward, as if he were slightly ashamed that he, himself, was all he could offer her as solace. "You aren't alone," he added softly.

Hermione reacted by kissing him in appreciation. "I'm glad I have you..."

That settled the matter.

As Christmas drew closer, Hermione decided to go in search of a few small gifts for Severus and her friends. There seemed to be a silent, universal agreement amongst everyone that—minus Severus, who took no interest in the Christmas holiday—only small tokens of appreciation would be accepted. The war was still too close to home, most were still tending to their wounds, and, for too many to count, it would be their first Christmas without loved ones. It was a depressing reality nearly everyone in their community was facing, and buying presents fell secondary to reflection, grief, and spending time with those who remained.

"I should get something to bring to my parents," Hermione mentioned over breakfast one morning. "Maybe I'll go today. I have all weekend to shop, so hopefully I can come up with something they might like."

Hermione's job at the Ministry was going well, bringing in a more than steady income and enough for the both of them to live on for the time being. It wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, but it was manageable, and enough so that Hermione would actually be able to splurge on her parents and Severus, though he wasn't expecting it. She couldn't help but wonder if he was planning on getting her anything, too. They hadn't exactly discussed it and Christmas was such a sore subject for Severus that she didn't bother bringing it up, save for her own personal amusement.

"I'll come with you," he muttered, as he read that morning's _Daily Prophet_.

Hermione all but dropped her spoon. "What?"

Severus glanced over at her, nonchalant. "Would you rather go alone?"

"I— No. I just... I didn't think you'd want to go Christmas shopping, that you'd want to do that sort of thing."

"'That sort of thing'?" he reiterated with delicate humor.

"You know what I mean."

"Mmm." He casually turned to the next page of his newspaper. "Would you rather go alone?"

"Not really."

"Very well then."

"Erm, it might take a good chunk of your day..."

Severus focused in on her, his eyes narrowing. "Are you trying to somehow dissuade me?"

"No," she chuckled. "Just forewarning you in case you'd like to change your mind."

Severus simply rolled his eyes and returned to his reading material. _I guess that settles it_, Hermione mused as she quietly finished her breakfast.

Shopping for her parents did, in fact, take the majority of their Saturday. They had Apparated to numerous small shops in the English countryside, as her mother had always loved shopping in the Cotswolds. Snow had arrived in early December for most of the country, and the Cotswolds were no exception. It was brutally cold, but Hermione was too elated by the Christmas spirit she found everywhere they went to take notice. Shops were decorated in red, green, and gold. The streets were lined with shoppers bustling and crowding the sidewalks—much to Severus's open annoyance—and trees and rooftops were decked out in magnificent twinkling lights.

Hermione breathed it all in, her spirits livening like they always did this time of year. She wasn't as excited as she would have been in the past, but it was lovely all the same.

"You all right?" she teased Severus as they exited a particularly popular, cramped candle shop in Bibury.

"If one more person runs into me, I'll hex their knickers off."

"Grinch."

"This is ridiculous. Doesn't anyone have anything better to do?"

Hermione busted up laughing, more so at Severus's not understanding what was so humorous, and took him by the hand. "Let's try Tetbury next. I think I can find a lovely wool fleece there for Mum."

Severus grumbled but followed her along. They entered an abandoned street and Disapparated to the next charming village on Hermione's agenda.

Severus had gathered that Hermione really loved the English countryside, which somewhat surprised him. He, himself, had always privately enjoyed the Cotswolds; a part of him had wanted to live in a quaint village like the ones they had been visiting since he was a child. He enjoyed the cobblestone streets, stone houses, and flower beds that bloomed in the spring, not to mention the rolling hills and uncorrupted, beautiful landscapes. It was picturesque—even in the snow—like he had stepped into one of his childhood dreams, so different from the actual reality he had experienced growing up.

His mind drifted as Hermione had shopped around each village, considering each location rather thoughtfully, despite all the unnecessary chaos and badgering holiday cheer. They had started discussing selling Spinner's End months ago. He still wasn't opposed to the idea. It had been his home all his life, but he never felt a sense of attachment to the place. It haunted him, really, and he would be content to get out of there as soon as it could be feasibly managed. But where would they go?

Looking around him, Severus certainly didn't think he could afford to live in quaint, serene locations such as these. Even by wizarding standards, they had to cost a fortune, something he surely didn't—and would never—have.

All the same, he would love to stay somewhere in the Cotswolds—with Hermione—but it was impractical to think on such a ridiculous, hopeless idea. He belonged at Hogwarts again and would be returning there—if all went as planned—next fall, and Hermione, well, she belonged with someone else. He would continue to feel that way, even if the witch herself didn't think so. He couldn't seem to stop his mind from obsessively pondering their future, however.

_Wouldn't it be nice to give her this?_

Severus's far away contemplations were distracted by the young witch at his side, who suddenly braced herself against him to keep from crashing into the snow as they stumbled down a deep hill lined with shops. He grumbled irritably but managed to steady Hermione, who blushed at him as they reached the bottom of the hill.

"Miss Graceful," he sneered.

"It's your job to catch me." She smacked his arm, and then her ears perked up. "Do you hear that?" she breathed with wondrous delight.

Severus searched the streets and spotted a group of carolers two blocks away. They had just finished "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" and started singing a rather haunting rendition of "Silent Night," Hermione's favorite. She searched the deserted streets, making sure no one was lurking about. It was too cold, and most shoppers had taken shelter in a few of the cafes or restaurants situated up and down the sidewalks, as it was now getting dark.

They had been on the go all day, and Hermione suspected Severus must be exhausted by now, but he wasn't showing it and hadn't complained either. _Sweet man_, she pondered affectionately, taking possession of both of his gloved hands.

"This one's my favorite."

"Oh?"

His voice sounded unimpressed, or perhaps even bored. Hermione ignored it. She took a deep breath and let the moment fill her up. It was Christmas, her favorite holiday hymn was playing, and Severus was here with her—alive, doing as well as could be expected, and they were together. It was almost too perfect.

Before she even considered what she was asking, her mouth blurted out, "Dance with me?"

Severus gaped at her. "What?"

Hermione shot him a wry grin. "Please?" she pouted, placing one of his hands around her waist without permission. His eyes almost looked maddened by the offer. "Just one dance? We've never danced, you know..."

"And I would prefer to keep it that way," Severus grunted, his voice catching nervously, which only made Hermione laugh at his expense. It was quite adorable. He had grown terribly shy all of a sudden, particularly for him.

"Oh, c'mon, Severus. Are you afraid of dancing poorly?"

"I'm not afraid of dancing!" he spat through narrowed eyes, awkwardly looking about. "I just prefer not to."

"Oh, please?" she purred and brushed herself up against him. His mouth gave a tense twitch, and her smile extended. "Dance with me, Severus Snape."

Before he could protest again, her legs began to move, with one of their interlocked hands outstretched. She put her other hand on his shoulder and slowly rocked back and forth in the snow.

For a few seconds, the man was horrified, and she loved it. She did her best not to laugh again, knowing how terribly self-conscious her lover was, and probably would always be. The more she shifted back and forth encouragingly, however, the more frustrated Severus grew, first because she had the nerve to lead when that was clearly the man's duty, and, second, for what she was about to make him do.

_Merlin, help me_, his conscience chastised.

With much reluctance, Severus began to dance along with her, taking over the duty of leading. Hermione attentively watched the poor wizard's face. He was obviously beyond mortified—_Adorable_—at dancing like this in such a public place, in the freezing cold, and with a beautiful, young lady in his arms. His complexion may have been white, but the inner humiliation made his cheeks glow a deep shade of red. Hermione nuzzled her nose against his as they rocked in a slow circle to the tune of "Silent Night."

The haunting hymn gradually drew Hermione into the past, and she easily found herself thinking back on where her life had been just seven months ago. She might not be having this dance at all had Severus not miraculously made it through. To think that he might have died, that, in all likelihood, he was _supposed_ to have died, made her heart sink to the wet, frigid ground. She might have spent this very Christmas alone, and it was a terribly morose thought to reflect on...

Unaware of Hermione's contemplations, Severus was too busy fighting the urge to stop the dance with every ounce of his being. He detested dancing. He had never been any good at it._ Just like most things_, he thought with a grim frown. He grew a little more at ease the longer it went on, but only just.

Willing himself to think of something else, Severus focused on his surroundings, this quaint place they were in, and thoughts from earlier resurfaced. The snow, the Christmas bug that never lifted no matter where they went, Hermione's favorite carol... It was all quite perfect for...

_Severus, shut up! What the hell has come over you? She's only nineteen, you fool! This is a fancy, a whim. Her feelings for you will fade with the melting snow, and when they do, you'd better be prepared to let her go._

He had been trying to get up the nerve to ask Hermione how she felt about a life with him. She had insisted many times that she wanted to stay, but the nagging, suspicious side to Severus felt differently. She would change her mind eventually, wouldn't she? And with his poor health, and a bleak future on the horizon, why on earth would she stay?

Still, his conscience pushed on despite himself, this would have been an ideal opportunity if he had had a ring to put on her finger... Would she have found the moment magical? Would it have been everything she had hoped for? Didn't most girls dream about a romantic proposal, a fairy-tale wedding, all that happily ever after nonsense Lily was always going on about when they were kids?

_Severus, you imbecile_, the darker side to him came crashing through, shooting down his wishes like the Killing Curse. _She's just a girl, and you're an old man. She wouldn't want you like that, surely; she _shouldn't_ want you. Pull yourself together._

He felt Hermione's mitten fingers squeeze his shoulder. Her face had been turned away from his, lying comfortably against his chest. Was she trembling? The carol soon ended, and Severus breathed a sigh of relief at being able to finally stop moving.

"Are you cold?" he whispered. He wrapped his arms around her, and she did the same.

"No," her heard her snivel. "I - I'm fine."

Severus drew back to see her face, but she seemed adamant not to look at him, which was odd. He took possession of her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. Her big, caramel eyes were wet, her eyelashes dampened, and there were fresh tears falling down her cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" he asked with a hint of alarm.

Hermione shook her head, her pretty curls twirling back and forth. "Nothing. I'm all right, really."

"Hermione..."

Severus gave her a stern expression and the reminder of her former professor came flooding back to her, only it was much softer than the usual dead glare he gave most Gryffindors. "I was just thinking about how much things have changed. You, me, _us_. I never would've thought..."

She didn't finish her sentence, or was incapable of doing so, so Severus politely did it for her, hoping he was wrong. "You never thought you'd be with someone like me."

Hermione's gentle features contorted into an expression of horror. "What? No, no! That's not what I meant!"

"Oh?"

Severus seemed relatively surprised, which pained Hermione to see; his insecurities were still peeking through just below the surface and, even after being together for well over a year now, it was still prevailing. It made her heart ache, for him.

"No, I... I meant the snake bites, your health, the hearings, Azkaban... I wasn't sure you'd make it. And then when you went to prison, there were times I thought we'd never get you out of there." She choked on her words, finding it difficult to speak; it really had been a time in Hell. "If you hadn't made it, or if you weren't set free... If we didn't have this opportunity to share a Christmas together, I - I don't know what I'd do. I'd be so... Lost."

And she knew it to be true. How pointless her life would feel without Severus in it, filling the void in her young heart; she knew it was the same for him.

Hermione didn't say anything else. Instead, she buried her face in his chest. She clung to him but didn't cry, only held him as tightly as she could, hoping that her embrace could illustrate her regard better.

"And here I thought agreeing to dance with you would make you happy," she heard him making light of the conversation. "Instead, it's turned you into a sloppy mess. This is why I shouldn't be permitted to dance."

Hermione stifled a chuckle, which Severus caught and couldn't help but smirk at. He squeezed her gently before releasing his grip. She continued to lace her arms around him and stared up into his face, now in merrier spirits and more than a little intrigued. Severus hadn't said a word during their little dance in the snow, not even an audible growl or hiss of irritation.

"What were you thinking about? You were awfully quiet, you know. I thought for sure you'd make some kind of snide remark."

Severus cleared his throat, seemingly taken aback by her question, and it showed. "The thought crossed my mind," he stated and averted his eyes from hers.

Hermione raised an eye brow, intrigued. "Oh, c'mon, Severus, what were you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

It was a little too hasty and unsubtle for him, and a triumphant smile made its way across her rosy cheeks. "I'm not convinced."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you then."

"Severus, your attempts at subtly don't work on me anymore, remember? Now out with it!"

"Erm, no."

"Was it about us? Was it about me?"

_Shit, no_, Severus panicked.

"Perhaps," he snarled, against his better judgment, not even thinking before the words escaped his tongue.

"Perhaps? What was it?"

_Damn it. Way to go, you blubbering dunderhead. She won't let up now. Damn her._

Seeing how visibly unwieldy he was being, not to mention his odd behavior, Hermione pressed him as gently as possible. "What, Severus? C'mon, out with it. What did we discuss not too long ago about talking through things, hmm?"

"You'll think me either a fool or it'll frighten you, and I'm not prepared for either reaction. Let it alone, Hermione."

Hermione's smile slumped into a frown. What on earth was so secretive? And why would she ever think Severus to be a fool? He could be a stubborn, hardheaded arse most of the time, yes, but a fool?

_Never._

"I just shared something very personal with you, Severus," she sulked in the best, most dramatic way she knew how. To her delight, it was working; she could see his eyes crumbling behind his mask of indifference. "Why can't you be honest and open with me? After everything we've been through?"

Severus sighed and cast his eyes upon the red gloves on her hands. He scooped them up and examined them quietly for a moment. This was either going to be the greatest or biggest mistake of his life, he was sure of it. Losing Hermione would be losing everything. She was all he had...

_And yet, she might leave you anyhow, Severus. Best get this over with. If she hesitates, you'll know for sure and can put the matter to rest._

"When you think of us, Hermione," he began, choosing his words carefully, though his heart was pounding, "do you... Do you see a future with me? I would like your honesty regarding this, if you would."

Hermione's eyebrows tapered. They had had this discussion numerous times already. Was he really _that_ insecure about how she felt, after all this time?

"Of course I do." She tried to make light of his rather sad reservations. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"I know you're here, but how do you see this playing out in the end?"

"In the end?"

There was a nervous edge to her voice now, and Severus braced himself for the worst. This had to be one of the hardest conversations he had ever had. Why here and now and in this place? And what if she rejected him?

_Please, no._

"Do you... Do you _really_ want me, Hermione? Are you sure that being with me—in the long-term—is what you want? Are you absolutely sure?"

Hermione didn't understand where all this was coming from, but she didn't like it one bit, and it was making her uneasy. She reached up to touch his cheek with her gloved hand.

"Of course I'm absolutely sure. Why wouldn't I be, Severus?"

"Hermione, listen." Severus tried not to cringe as the words came out. "I... I'm not new, I'm not young... I'm considerably older than you—"

"Oh, bollocks!" Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "No, you're not, Severus."

"Just let me finish, would you?" he growled, and she consented with a sigh. "You have a lifetime ahead of you. I don't. Even with wizarding age, and not accounting for my health, that's the reality of our situation, Hermione, and I don't want to ever hold you back or keep you from the things that you want. And you should have everything, Hermione. You deserve that much. Everything in the world..."

Hermione was speechless. For a moment, all she could do was breathe. When she found her footing again, she tugged on his back, pushing him against her so that they were mere inches from one another. Her smile was kind and genuine as always, but was also quite serious.

"Severus... I already have everything. It's all right here, _with you_. You're not holding me back; only_ I_ can do that. I know our situation isn't ideal, but I would've thought—with everything we've been through—you'd know my feelings by now. They're unchanged, Severus. I love you. I _want_ to be with you, and no one else."

"Hermione, I beg you, think over the matter—"

"I've done that, Severus." Hermione reared back, eying him with apprehension. "You almost sound... Like you _want_ me to change my mind."

"No," he replied hurriedly, his cheeks burning against the winter frost. "No, I don't. I... I just... I want you to consider your options."

"What options?" She threw him for a loop when she laughed heartily at his concern. "I've had a long time now to think it over, love. Don't you see? This is the decision I've reached. I made this choice long ago." She paused to survey him with a warm, provocative sort of smile. "Is this what you were thinking about as we were dancing? That I shouldn't be with you? Merlin, you know how to kill the moment—"

"It wasn't just that," he snarled, clearly put out, torn between his own feelings and how he thought Hermione_ should_ feel. "I... I don't like being selfish, Hermione, but I can't help myself. I - I want you. I want you exclusively and all to myself. But I know that's wrong of me, and... And..."

Hermione listened as he spoke with an intense regard and affection for her. He couldn't finish what he wanted to say, however. It was sweet and bittersweet all at once, and Hermione, in that moment, understood. She drew onto her tiptoes and pecked him tenderly on the cheek.

"I _am_ yours, silly," she teased as gently as possible.

Severus took a calculated breath. "Would you?"

"Would I what?"

_There's nothing for it, Severus. Get on with it._

"Would you... Stay mine? If - If I asked you to?"

Hermione scrutinized him for a moment, completely befuddled by all his vague questions. _Merlin, he's acting strange..._

Then it hit her. Her heart felt as if it were about to leap straight out of her chest. Her face suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree, her mouth dropped open, and, to his pain and utter humiliation, she squealed excitedly as he had never heard before.

"Are you..." she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "OH, MY GOD! Are you? Are you asking me? _Really?_ Oh, Severus! Is this for real? _Severus!_ Merlin, oh my god! OH—"

"Calm down, Hermione! Wait, _please!_"

He seized her hands, now panic-stricken by her misinterpretation. He had no ring. He had merely wanted to know once and for all where exactly they stood for the long haul.

_Well played, Severus._

"Please, no! I - I don't have anything to give you just yet."

He felt utterly foolish, but Hermione didn't seem to care one way or the other. Perhaps she just hadn't heard him? She was beaming from ear to ear, but she composed herself long enough to let him speak.

"I... I wanted to know where your sentiments lay before, erm, taking the next step. I wasn't sure how you felt about... About, um, well, you know... I wanted to be sure that you see a future with me, that I am _truly_ what you want."

Hermione abruptly grabbed Severus firmly by his coat and pulled him to her. The force she used was unanticipated and quite enrapturing. She planted a long, passionate kiss on his mouth that left him momentarily paralyzed. It affirmed everything he had hoped, and he was both stunned and extremely relieved.

When Hermione unlocked her lips from his, she was more blissful than he had seen in a very long time. "You _are_ what I want, Severus Snape. Nothing's going to change that now, all right?"

Severus let out the breath he had been holding. "Well, I... I can honestly say that that's a relief to hear."

_Poor man. He honestly thought I might say no?_

Hermione rolled her eyes playfully and let out fits of giggles. She put her hand to her mouth while her eyes flickered, elated by what Severus had asked her. It was entirely unexpected. She hadn't even thought that Severus was considering marriage.

"Severus Snape," she murmured aloud, overcome with joy and amusement. "Marriage? _You?_ Somebody pinch me."

Severus sneered in response, but the dark irises were lively, catching the glimmer of falling snowflakes in their depths. "Knock it off," he hissed.

Hermione knew they were only words, but they were special, entirely for her, and it was a definite promise. It was all she had been hoping to hear, without even realizing it until now, and it was more than enough.

"I can't believe you were thinking about proposals! _YOU_, of all people! Oh, you scoundrel! And here I thought you incapable of—"

"Oh, cut it out," he growled through gritted teeth; Hermione laughed harder, "or I'll take it back."

"No, you wouldn't, you adorable git." Hermione reached up on her toes again to kiss his frozen cheek long and hard. "I love you," she whispered elatedly against his face, catching sight of his alluring smirk in return.

"I love you," he whispered back.

The exchange was soft, gentle, and as quiet as the night air. Taking her by the arm, the unconventional pair made their way down the snow covered streets, but it wasn't a normal walk. It was a stroll into new territory, the next step in their lives together, and a much-needed progression out of the past and into the future.


	57. Australia

**A/N: First, _m_****_any, many thanks_ to Opera777 for a really beautiful image from Chapter 54 of Severus's and Hermione's changed Patronuses! Link is on my Profile page. Don't miss it, it's a lovely photo manip! **  


**Of note: Hermione's parents' surnames, as changed in _DH_, are unchanged here. They're still the Grangers, mainly just to make my life a little easier after keeping to canon outline in earlier chapters.**

******The next two chapters are quite long (for reasons). I could have split them up but didn't want to drag the content out too much. I'll admit, it was some of the most fun I've had writing this story, so I hope you get enjoyment out of it, too. _Thanks for all your feedback_; I hope you'll keep it coming! :)  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 57: Australia**

"You weren't kidding when you said this amount of Apparition would be brutal."

Hermione collapsed onto the sidewalk of an abandoned street in Singapore. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning, dark as could be, and to top matters off, there was a ghastly humidity and it was drizzling. Hermione quickly took out her wand and cast a spell to keep dry, and Severus did likewise. Taking a moment to look about the abandoned alleyway, Severus eased himself down next to her, letting out a small grunt of pain that didn't escape Hermione's attention. She snapped her head up and squinted at him in the shadows.

They had been Apparating for several hours the day following Christmas, and, although it was still considered a much better alternative to flying over long distances, it took a great deal of energy to accomplish. Hermione had never done this much Apparation in one go and in such a short span of time. By now, her energy was all but washed away, leaving her stiff and worn out. Eying Severus, she could tell he was just as exhausted as she, if not more so, even if he was doing his best to keep it from her.

"You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he grumbled, loosening his cravat on account of the stifling heat. "Merlin, it's hot."

"I know. I think we should rest a while. Maybe get a room and sleep for a few hours?"

"We're almost there. Four or five more Apparations should do it."

"I don't think it's a good idea, love. Besides, I'm exhausted."

Hermione spared Severus from having to admit so himself, knowing he never would, and he conceded easily enough. "Very well."

Severus withdrew a worn, blank piece of parchment from his coat pocket and tapped it three times with his wand. A series of marks seeped onto the page, much like the far more corrupted Marauders Map Hermione remembered. To any Muggle, the markings would simply look like ink splotches, but, to wizards, they were a benchmark to all local magical hotspots in the area.

Hermione had heard of such maps, but they were a rarity to find nowadays. The Ministry had discouraged against them since they were considered an invasion of privacy, not only to wizards, but to Muggles as well. All residential locations within several miles popped up on the map, but Severus and Hermione were focused on finding a wizarding inn to stay in the rest of the morning.

The closest accommodations were three blocks away, so they wasted little time catching their breath on the side walk, instead rushing through the rain to their destination. Hermione didn't even care if the inn was a mess. She just needed a large comfy bed to sink into and sleep on for about a decade and a half.

An elderly Asian witch greeted them upon their arrival. The place was small but clean, not to mention cool, which was about all Severus cared for at this point. Luckily, the innkeeper didn't ask too many questions or attempt to make small talk. Hermione knew Severus was hardly in the mood for such trivial conversation.

The two trekked up a flight of stairs to their room on the second floor. Severus collapsed onto the bed as soon as the door was shut, fully clothed and not giving a damn.

"Would you please get out of those clothes?" Hermione barked at him a fourth or fifth time, shoving pajamas that she had extracted from her beaded bag in his face.

Severus conceded with several irritable gripes, crawling into bed with her after a few minutes and spooning her from behind. Hermione finally understood why the wizarding community discouraged long distance Apparation; it had literally taken everything out of her.

It wasn't even five minutes before they were both passed out. By the time she awoke, it was almost noon, and her body ached when she came to. She could hear the soft, soothing pounding of the rain hitting a small glass window directly across from her side of the bed. Turning her head, she found Severus still passed out and snoring rather loudly.

_How the hell did I sleep through_ that_?_ she mused, shifting beneath the covers to grab her wand off of the nightstand.

Hermione summoned a handful of phials into her hand from inside her bag and nudged Severus with her elbow. "Severus? Oi, Severus. Hey, wake up."

Severus's head jerked, his snores abruptly catching at the back of his throat. "Merlin, _what?_" he startled, burying his face in their pillows, hearing his witch snicker close to his face.

"Sorry, love. You're due to take your tonics."

"Bollocks," he grumbled and kept his face hidden. "Leave me alone."

"I can be more obnoxious if you'd like?"

"That's impossible."

Hermione rolled over facing him, feeling the bed move a little, and prodded his large nose with hers. "Don't be a crab. Wake up, you."

"What time is it?"

Severus stifled a yawn behind his hand as Hermione searched the room for a clock, which she found hanging on the wall opposite the bed. "Eleven forty-five." Severus didn't say anything, so Hermione brought him into a snug embrace beneath the covers, holding onto the phials in her hand. "Hey, Mr. Insomniac, I need you to wake up for a moment."

"Merlin, no. Let me sleep."

Hermione leaned in for a kiss, and Severus responded before pressing his face deeper into the pillow. "You're about as stubborn as a child. Take these and then you can go back to sleep."

"One morning without them isn't going to kill me, Hermione."

"Don't start."

Severus mumbled in defeat and finally did as she requested. When he was done, he rolled over in the opposite direction, burrowing his head beneath a pile of blankets. Hermione reached out and tousled the top of his head peeking out beneath the sheets. A faint hiss followed her unnecessary attention, and she couldn't suppress her giggles. She scooted to be near him again, maneuvering a leg through his and an arm around his waist.

Severus fell back asleep within minutes, but Hermione stayed awake for some time longer, listening to the pouring rain and pondering over the day that lay ahead. She was antsy and nervous.

They would finally be seeing her parents today, and she hadn't seen them in well over a year. What kind of state would they be in? Could they reverse the damage of her mind spell, or would her parents officially be lost to her forever?

Hermione tucked her face into Severus's shoulder. They had left Crookshanks with the Weasleys, but she admittedly missed having her feline near. Whenever she was feeling upset, Crookshanks could always be counted upon to calm her nerves. Hermione wondered if Severus had given much thought to meeting her parents for the first time. If he had, he wasn't saying anything. And if her parents were able to overcome the Obliviation spell, how would they take to her wizard in black?

_My former professor._ Hermione's eyes flickered at Severus's back. _This is not going to go over well..._

Hermione eventually fell back asleep. When she came to, it was Severus poking and prodding her awake this time.

"Rise and shine," he provoked with brutal sarcasm, causing Hermione to protest and roll over.

"Ugh, go away."

"Not likely."

"What time is it?"

"A little after three."

"What?" Hermione stretched and yawned lazily, curling up against the divinely comfortable sheets. "Twelve hours?"

"That's right."

"I didn't think you capable of sleeping that long."

"Nor I. Now, would you get up?"

Hermione smiled into the warmth of the bed, feeling Severus pressed up against her from behind. His lips were gently mapping their way up and down her neck, teasing and tickling her skin.

"Make me," she encouraged, hearing a low growl in her ear that made her shiver.

Hermione was suddenly thrown onto her back and into Severus's arms. She laughed and finally opened her eyes, only to frown at what she found.

"Oh... You're already dressed." Severus was, indeed, already fully clothed and ready to depart, whilst she was still half naked and not at all ready to get out of bed just yet. "Well, this is no fun."

Severus smirked and kissed her forehead. "Up," he commanded and scooted out of bed, much to Hermione's disappointment.

He stalked over to where her beaded bag lay on a chair and reached his hand inside. Hermione eased onto one elbow, her curls in a heap around her face. She eyed him inquisitively.

"You searching for fresh knickers or something?"

His dark eyes flashed. "I'd prefer you without them."

"Scandalous."

"Merlin, what all do you have in here?" Severus stretched the bag to peer inside in a rare form of amazement, ignoring Hermione's soft laughter at his expense. "How many books did you really need to bring?"

"You know how fast I read."

Severus glanced over at her. "How long were you planning on staying? A month?"

"_We_, Mister."

"That's what I thought," he snarled and finally yanked out a small piece of paper. Hermione recognized what it was: her parents' address. Severus had taken the liberty of researching their whereabouts weeks ago. He placed it in his coat pocket and stared at her with a certain expectancy. "Well? Are you going to get up and get dressed or do I have to magically drag you out?"

Hermione sighed, resigned, and got out of bed on her own, without any aid. "Hand it over," she nodded to the bag, which Severus levitated to her and took a seat in the chair. "I really don't like it when you watch me get dressed," she confessed after a few minutes of silence.

Severus's eyebrows tapered. "Why not?"

"Because there are some things a girl would rather do on her own."

"What? Putting clothes on?"

"No, more like making herself look presentable. I'd rather you see the after effect, not the before."

Severus rolled his eyes at her. "You're ridiculous."

"Oh?" Hermione pulled her frizzy hair back, taking a moment to scrutinize her disheveled appearance in a full length mirror on the wall and frowned. "I look horrible."

"No, you don't."

"I haven't seen my parents in over a year, Severus. Don't give me lip, please!"

"I wasn't."

"Yes, well, just 'cause _you_ can get ready in two minutes flat doesn't mean we all can! Give me a break."

"What on earth is the matter?"

Hermione turned to him from across the room, looking appropriately miserable. Severus returned her stare, only his was a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, lowering her eyes a fraction or two. "I just... I'm nervous, all right? I want this to work out."

Severus surveyed her glumness for a pause before getting to his feet and crossing the room. Gently touching her shoulders, he bent his head and assured her, "It will."

"You don't know that for sure, Severus."

"No, I don't." He stared at her for another moment and then pecked the top of her head. "I'll wait for you downstairs."

With that, Severus quietly disappeared out of the room, leaving Hermione to herself to finish getting ready. It was a small, sweet gesture she appreciated. By the time she was through fixing her hair and finding an outfit amidst her packed wardrobe that she deemed appropriate, she was in much better spirits, though still anxious.

When she made her way down the stairs to join Severus, however, she found him seated in the abandoned lobby with his eyes closed, his body slouched and his head hunched over. "Severus?" Hermione was stunned that he had managed to fall asleep in a public place, but the exhaustion was evident all over him. His head jerked and he quickly sat up, ignoring the concern he received.

"Do you need to take some—"

"No, I'm fine."

Severus dismissed her question with a wave of his hand, and, with somewhat of a struggle, got to his feet. Hermione wasn't content to argue, but her worry didn't lessen after they checked out and made their way down several crowded streets to a people-less alleyway to Disapparate from. It was still raining, and Hermione could feel her curls expanding against the humidity, but that wasn't what concerned her.

All this travel was doing a grueling number on Severus's body, and that's where her mind had drifted many times as they made their way to Australia. He still wasn't in the best state of health—not that that wasn't already well established—and Hermione had been apprehensive since the start about how Severus might do on such a long trip. He, on the other hand, didn't seem to be giving it any thought at all.

_Go figure_, she snorted, squeezing his hand before they took off.

After four more Apparations, they arrived at a small side street in the Glen Waverley area of Melbourne. Their eyes were met with quite a different scene from Singapore. The place was dry with luscious green grass, tall trees, vibrant houses, and sunny, cloudless skies. The temperature was warm but not overpowering, and a light breeze was blowing comfortably against their necks.

Hermione kept her hand clasped in Severus's as they made their way to the second home at the far end of a long row of houses. If any Muggles were out and about or watching from their windows, she and Severus must be a strange sight indeed. She could feel her palms sweating and her heart pounding. She almost wished that her parents wouldn't be home, so she wouldn't have to face what she had done, but she quickly stomped that immature thought out of her mind.

Her parents' home was very different from the house she had grown up in back home. Pale yellow siding, beautiful landscaping, including several flower beds and a garden off to the side that she knew her mother must have attended to, all evoked a warmth and friendliness Hermione remembered, to the point that her heart felt like it were being compressed and robbed of oxygen.

Severus tugged her hand and guided her to the front door, where he knocked forcefully and eyed Hermione sidelong as they waited for someone to answer. Hermione heard someone faintly call from inside and instinctively drew in a sharp breath.

When the door creaked opened, her mother was standing before her, her long, thick brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She was wearing a casual white shirt and jeans, and her eyes were the same caramel hue as Hermione's. There was an uncanny resemblance between the two women that Severus could make out clear as day. The only difference was Mrs. Granger's hair, which wasn't curly, wild, or untamed.

_She must get that from her father..._

For a fleeting moment when their eyes met, Hermione's heart skipped a beat, thinking her mother might actually recognize her, until she asked, "Can I help you?" and Hermione's hopefulness sank like a ton of bricks.

"I... Um, hello," Hermione offered once she caught her breath. "Mrs. Granger?"

"Yes?"

Hermione found her confidence in seizing the matter waning now that she stood in front of her mother, who was searching her face without any glimmer of knowing who she was. Hermione was more grateful than ever to have Severus with her. If she was alone, she would have probably excused herself by now and walked—ran—away as fast as her feet would carry her.

"My name's Hermione Gra—Hermione." Hermione turned to Severus. "This is my, erm," she stalled on how to introduce Severus.

"Partner," he finished for her. "My name's Severus Snape. I'm a friend of your husband's. Might we come in?"

"I - I'm sorry, but my husband isn't home at the moment. He's working."

Hermione and Severus could see her mother shifting uneasily, eying them both with trepidation. She closed the door an inch or two.

"Yes, we know," Severus insisted. "We're from out of town and got here a little earlier than we were anticipating. He told us we could wait here for his return."

Mrs. Granger stared at Severus with evident suspicion, much more so than her daughter. Hermione could detect the flicker of fear in her eyes when she stammered, "I - I wasn't aware we were expecting company. My husband didn't tell me you were coming. If you would wait outside for a moment, I'd like to give him a ring first."

"Certainly."

Mrs. Granger closed the door and both of them heard several locks being latched or bolted shut. Hermione's face slumped. She really didn't want to resort to magic to get into her parents' house and had worried that might be the case. It turned out she was right—it would be necessary after all.

Before she could so much as withdraw her wand, however, Severus already had his in hand. Breaking hand contact, he threw the door open with a quick flick of his wrist and ran inside, leaving Hermione stranded in the open doorway. She caught a glimpse of her mother in the kitchen straight ahead. In the midst of turning around, a startled look crossed the woman's face as Severus advanced on her, and the sight made Hermione sick. There was no time for Mrs. Granger to do anything, however—not even scream—for Severus stunned her and she toppled to the ground, though not before he managed to break her fall.

Hermione dashed inside, her eyes wide and frantic, until Severus informed her collectedly to shut the door. He levitated her mother over to a couch in the front sitting room. None of it was how Hermione would have liked to approach this delicate situation, but she understood it couldn't be helped, and was secretly relieved that Severus had taken the initiative, sensing her reluctance to stun her own mother against her will.

Hermione walked over to where her mother lay and stared down at her. Mrs. Granger's eyes were open but glazed over, as if she were in a trance, and that frightened expression Hermione had previously seen was still etched on her frozen countenance.

Severus waved his wand in a circle and began muttering various incantations under his breath. Something was seeping out of her forehead and into his wand, or vice versa, and Hermione watched with fascination, praying whatever her wizard was doing would be enough to bring her mother back. She had no clue how this might go if her mother came to, so Hermione anxiously waited, hoping things would go better than she was anticipating.

It took quite a while before anything happened. Severus never broke his concentration or ceased talking. Hermione eventually sat down on the floor and drew up onto her knees, still waiting with bated breath for the outcome.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Severus put his wand away and fell silent, though her mother didn't stir for some time. A wave of panic seized Hermione as the excruciating wait continued. Had what Severus tried not worked? Was her mother forever altered because of her actions?

Then Mrs. Granger blinked and her eyes began to move. Hermione jerked and went to stand but didn't have a chance. Mrs. Granger, noticing the dark, sinister-looking man seated beside her, quickly sat up and backed away to the opposite end of the couch, shaking from head to toe.

"Mum?" Hermione approached her guardedly, fearing the worst when her mother met her gaze.

For a split second, she merely blinked at Hermione, searching her youthful face for something; undoubtedly for some indication of who the young witch was. When she spoke, she sounded terribly unsure.

"Hermione?"

Hermione's breath gave way. Her mother recognized her. She knew who she was. _It had worked._ Hermione started to crawl towards her mother to embrace her in a big hug, but to her dismay, Mrs. Granger backed away from her, too.

"What's going on?" she demanded, her voice wavering. "What is this?" She turned to Severus, narrowing her eyes. "Who are _you?_"

"Mum, it - it's all right. This is Severus Snape. He's not going to hurt you. He helped you."

"_Helped me?_" She stared from one to the other before slowly demanding a second time, "What's going on?"

"I..."

Hermione was having trouble finding her voice, just as she suspected she would. How the hell could she tell her own mother that she had tampered with her mind?

"Dr. Granger," came Severus's steady drawl, sparing her from saying anything.

"It's Mrs. Granger," her mother corrected unsteadily. "I no longer practice."

That surprised Hermione, but there wasn't time to ask. Not yet.

"Your daughter and I just came out of a wizarding war several months ago."

"A - A wizarding war?"

She stared at Severus as if he was a mad man, but Hermione knew better. She had told her parents quite a bit about Lord Voldemort's return before taking off, only it was difficult for them to make any sense of it, and so, Hermione stopped overloading them with information, seeing as her parents were not a part of her world and would probably never fully understand what was happening. Hermione could only hope that everything she had shared before had been retained in the back of her mother's mind. At the moment, it was hard to tell.

"Yes. You and your husband's minds were altered to spare you from being harmed or killed."

"_What?_"

"It was necessary, Mrs. Granger. If Hermione hadn't taken the initiative to save your lives, you'd both be dead, and we wouldn't be sitting here right now."

"Wha - What? Hermione?" She turned to her daughter, befuddled and frightened.

"Mum, I... I'm sorry. I had to. They would have tortured and killed you in pursuing me. They were after Harry, and, therefore, everyone who was associated with or close to him, including me. I... I didn't have a choice. I wanted you and Dad to be safe."

"Just a minute." Mrs. Granger threw up a hand to stop her daughter's explanation. "You altered our minds? Wha - What exactly did you do?" Her eyes suddenly darted about the room, disoriented. "Where am I?"

"Um, Melbourne."

"_Melbourne?_"

"Yes... You - You live here now; you and Dad."

"_What?_"

Mrs. Granger stared about the place anew and in horror. Hermione's stomach twisted into knots watching her mother's distress. She could see the realization coming back, but just as her mother was starting to comprehend where she was, she seemed only more terrified. And it was all her fault...

"I... I'm not sure what prompted this decision, but by the time the war was over and I was able to come home, you and Dad had packed up and moved here."

"But..." Mrs. Granger's mouth drooped. "Our dental practice... Our friends... Our life back home..."

"It seems," Severus interjected with, to Hermione, remarkable patience, "without your daughter in the picture, you both decided to make a fresh start. I understand you have always wanted to visit Australia."

"Yes, but not _move_ here!" she exclaimed.

No one, aside from Hermione, ever lost their temper with Severus, or, at least, not without considering the consequences, but Hermione couldn't find the humor in that at all. She was overpowered with guilt and only more so once her mother looked back at her again, this time forlorn and almost appalled by her presence.

"What have you done to us, Hermione?"

Hermione felt like she had been smacked across the face. She actually would have preferred that to the judgmental look her mother was giving her now. Her knees seemed to be shrinking into the carpet; or perhaps that was just her imagination. She certainly would have loved to disappear right about now, if only to drown out her sorrows and not gaze upon the damage she had caused anymore. She opened her mouth several times to speak but couldn't grasp at words.

Finally, the only words she could manage to get off the tip of her tongue were a very soft, "I'm sorry," which she expressed several times before going quiet and withdrawn.

Her mother didn't address her apology. Instead, she asked after a stifling bit of silence, "Wh - Where's your father?"

"I... I'm not sure. You told us when we arrived that he was at work."

"Oh... Oh, yes, that's right."

"Do you know where he is?" Severus inquired.

"How should I know?" her mother asked snippily. "I haven't a clue why I'm here or what's going on or what's been done to me!"

"Mrs. Granger, I understand you're upset right now—"

"_Upset?_" her mother interrupted the dark man sharing the couch with her. "Don't speak to me! I don't know who you are or what you want—"

"Mum, he came here with me to reverse the spell. Please don't shout at him. He brought your memory back."

"I'm not sure I wanted it back, to be honest!" Mrs. Granger half screamed, alarming Hermione. Her mother rarely raised her voice; normally it was her father who did that, if ever. "As a matter of fact, I don't think I was ever given a choice in the matter, _was I?_"

"I..."

"Or when you decided to wipe your father's and my memories the first time! You used your magic on us, Hermione! _How could you do that?_ Your father and I, we... We never would have thought you capable of doing such a thing! That's_ not_ how we raised you!"

Hermione felt the very air being sucked out of her lungs. She lowered her eyes to the floor, fighting back tears, and muttered quietly, "I... I'm sorry, Mum. I was just trying to save your lives. I didn't know what else to do..."

Mrs. Granger didn't say anything back, and Hermione wasn't sure which was worse: her mother's silence or the receivement of her scorn. Either way, they were both hurtful and difficult enough to digest. She hastily wiped at her eyes and tried to catch her breath, feeling the sudden urge to sob.

"Mrs. Granger," Severus broke the silence, speaking quietly, "what your daughter did was actually quite brave."

"_Brave?_" Her tone wasn't as abrasive now but still carried a bite to it that Hermione wasn't accustomed to hearing.

"Indeed. You aren't a witch, so I don't expect you to grasp the magnitude of what the alternative would have been had Hermione _not_ done what she did. You would have been tortured in ways you can't possibly imagine. You'd have experienced horrors one should never have to encounter. And you would have surely died, both of you. That's a fact."

"We could have gone into hiding!" her mother protested, but Severus cut her off.

"And been discovered far too easily. Muggles are no match for the magic and power we possess, Mrs. Granger. We have very easy ways of uncovering people's whereabouts, especially of those who don't possess magic. You'd have been found. I guarantee it."

"But... But she could have said something—"

"Yes, she could have; Hermione could have told you she thought she should wipe all traces of herself from your minds. Pray tell, what would you have said to the prospect of losing Hermione? Of forgetting you ever had a daughter?"

"But I... I didn't forget."

Hermione peered up at her mother, her eyes brimming with tears. "What?" she inquired weakly, seeing a strange sort of wonderment take hold of Mrs. Granger's visage.

"I... I remember feeling some odd connection to _a_ child, I just didn't know it was mine; as if I were destined to_ have_ a child, or that perhaps my child was out there somewhere. I remember now, yes... We - We were considering adoption. I thought my child was out there; I just had this inkling. I can't explain it. Your father looked at me like I'd gone round the bend whenever I tried to describe it to him."

"You... You were going to adopt?"

It felt as though Hermione had received a severe blow to the chest. It was an excruciating piece of news she wasn't prepared for, and the brief sympathy that washed over her mother in that moment would have eased the pain if her face hadn't hardened immediately thereafter.

"Well, I didn't know I had a daughter anymore," she challenged through narrowed eyes. "I started a whole new life against my will, so, yes, your father and I have been considering the prospect of adoption. We were getting quite close to filling out the paperwork, actually."

Hermione was dumbstruck and didn't know what to say. A few tears escaped her eyes and fell down her cheeks. She quickly looked at the floor again, no longer able to maintain eye contact.

"Mrs. Granger, this whole ordeal was very trying on your daughter, too."

"_Oh?_"

"Yes," Severus replied. "It was terribly hard for her to reach the decision at all. I'm not sure even _I_ can imagine the weight of trying to reach such a decision, and all on my own. She spared your lives. She kept you safe. The alternative was death, Mrs. Granger. Take your pick. Which would you have preferred?"

Her mother didn't offer up any response to that. When Hermione glanced up again, her mother was staring down at her, her eyes still somewhat cold, only they had softened a little, too, slightly opening back up to her, and Hermione leaped at the opportunity.

"Mum, please... I didn't want to do it. I swear I didn't. I didn't feel like I had any choice. I could've just up and left you and Dad, but that wouldn't have been right. I didn't... I didn't want you to get hurt. If it meant you forgetting all about me, I'd rather you and Dad live and go about your lives than _not_ be alive at all. Can't you understand that, Mum? Please?"

"I... I don't know if I can, Hermione." Mrs. Granger crossed her arms, peering down at her sadly. "I just don't know..."

Hermione felt her emotional constraints tipping over the edge. "Well, can I..." She paused, her voice shaking marginally, "Can I at least hug you? I... I came all this way to see you, Mum. Pl - Please?"

Mrs. Granger's eyes fluttered at her daughter's request, and Hermione could see tears forming in her eyes as well. Her chin quivered as she unlocked her arms and, trembling, held them out for Hermione to jump into. She didn't hesitate. Half stumbling on her hands and knees, Hermione crawled her way into her mother's arms, holding onto the back of her clothing for dear life. There was much sobbing and tears and cries for forgiveness on Hermione's part, a child's desperate need to be consoled and forgiven.

They held onto each other for a long time, and it wasn't until Hermione finally pulled away—flushed and a mess—that she noticed Severus had quietly left the room to give them some personal space. She spotted his silhouette outside the front window, sitting on a bench on the front porch with his back turned away from them. Hermione sniveled and tried to get herself under some measure of control, just as her mother did the same.

"I'm so sorry, Mum," she repeated, staring up at her mother pleadingly. "Please forgive me? You - You don't have to now, but eventually... Could you? I didn't mean to betray you, _honest_. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you and Dad. I couldn't. _That's_ why I did it. Please forgive me? _Please?_"

"I'll... I'll try, sweetheart," Mrs. Granger offered, wiping at her tear-drenched eyes. "I can't make any guarantees, but I'll try to understand. I will."

"That's all I ask, Mum."

"Wha - What about your father?"

Hermione glanced at the back of Severus's head through the window. "Well, I would imagine once he gets home, Severus will try to reverse the spell on him, too."

"Severus?" Her mothered scrutinized the wizard through the glass, her mind turning over the name in her head. "Is he... Wasn't he your professor?"

Hermione was relieved to see her mother's memories coming back more and more. "Yes, he was. He taught Potions."

"Severus Snape," Mrs. Granger repeated the name, her eyes drawing a horrifying conclusion. "Wait, wasn't _he_ the one who gave you and your friends such a hard time, sweetheart?"

"Erm, yes, he did... At one time."

"'At one time'?"

"Yes... Not anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll explain it to you and Dad once he's himself again, too, all right? I really don't want to have this conversation more than once."

Mrs. Granger surveyed her daughter with apprehension at first but, thankfully, consented without further questioning. She and Hermione continued to mull things over in the sitting room for a time whilst Severus sat outside, listening to the silence and giving mother and daughter the much-needed time they required to reconnect.

He was supposed to offer his emotional support to Hermione throughout this trip. That was something he had intended upon since the beginning and could only hope things between his witch and her parents might improve.

Furthermore, there was no outlined timeframe of how long they would be here, but Severus was already anxious to get home. Melbourne was too sunny, too bright, too warm, and carried with it none of the comforts of home. Severus knew he had to get over that unfortunate reality though. Hermione _needed_ this time, and she wanted him here with her, so Severus would readily comply with that request; as long as she wanted him, she would have him.

About an hour or so later, Hermione stepped out onto the front porch alone, smiling at him from the doorway. "Mum's making tea. Want some?"

"Sure."

Hermione closed the door and plopped down beside him, finding herself instantly wrapped up safely in his arms. "Is everything all right?" he pressed after a few minutes of silence.

"I think so; or, at least, I hope it will be."

"Just explain it to your father the same way you did with your mother."

"Yes..."

"Your mother might be able to help, too."

"That's true."

"Are you all right?"

Hermione didn't answer. She peered up at him and her downcast expression turned upside down. She extended her neck to present him with a kiss, wanting to illustrating her appreciation before it echoed from her mouth.

"Thank you for being here."

"You're welcome."

"I know you're probably hating this whole trip already, but it means an awful lot to me."

"I owe you. It's no bother."

"Severus, you don't owe me anything."

"Yes, I do," he insisted, contented when she didn't seem fit to argue with him.

When Mrs. Granger emerged with a tray and three tea cups, she found her daughter seated unusually close to the peculiar gentleman, their bodies nearly touching. She couldn't help but sense that she might have interrupted a moment between them, or some very personal conversation between the two, but they both acted like nothing was wrong and quickly diverted her attention.

It wasn't long before Mr. Granger returned home from work, finding his wife seated with two strangers on the front porch, one of whom looked particularly unfriendly and not trustworthy whatsoever. Severus immediately noted the second family resemblance. The man had short, tightly woven chestnut curls—the source of Hermione's wild mane—and a similar nose and brow. Hermione's mouth was entirely her mothers, as was her petite stature and eyes, but the rest of her evidently came from her father.

Mr. Granger didn't have much time to react, however. When Severus went to stand and approach him, Hermione's father hastily reacted and tried to grab his wife by the arm and head inside the house. That wasn't going to happen, evidently.

Severus stunned Mr. Granger easily enough, shocking Hermione's mother, who immediately panicked and cried out. Hermione tried to calm her down and explain that Severus wasn't, in fact, harming her husband but trying to help. Levitating Mr. Granger to the couch just as he had done with Mrs. Granger, Severus proceeded to try to successfully reverse the Obliteration spell.

Mrs. Granger watched with a mixture of awe and horror as her husband's body lay still and helpless, his eyes murky as the stark stranger muttered all sorts of gibberish under his breath, none of which she could understand. Every so often, Hermione would try to explain what Severus was doing, but even she, herself, wasn't entirely aware.

_Something I'll have to ask him about later_, she figured.

To Hermione's dread, her father had the same skittish reaction as her mother had and proceeded to lash out at her and Severus for some time, only he was more abrasive than her mother had been. It was just like reliving the hurt and injury all over again, but at least her mother was able to get through to him much sooner than would have been the case otherwise.

"I still don't understand why you didn't just tell us more about what was going on, Hermione," her dad insisted more than once after he had calmed down.

"Because it was difficult for you both to understand. You wanted to take me out of Hogwarts altogether, remember?"

Severus arched an eyebrow, having taken a seat near Hermione. "They did?"

"Yes, after my fifth year," Hermione explained with a casual turn of her head. "When they saw the scar on my stomach and I told them what happened, they were livid."

Severus cast his reserved eyes upon Mr. and Mrs. Granger. "Dumbledore didn't inform you of what happened?"

"No, he didn't," Mr. Granger uttered with clear disapproval. "Professor... Oh, bugger, what was her name? You said she can turn into a cat or a bunny or something of that sort?"

Hermione snickered for the first time since arriving. "_A cat_, Dad. Professor McGonagall."

"That's it! She just told us about how Hermione and her friends had gotten into some trouble at the Ministry but that they weren't under any sort of punishment. It was a very vague letter, I thought."

"I see," Severus replied, falling silent again, just as he had most of their time there thus far.

"She's now Headmistress," Hermione piped up to keep the conversation going. She was grateful to see them starting to get off topic about what she had done, even if it was just temporarily.

"Really?" They were both appropriately surprised by the news. Mr. Granger leaned forward on the couch next to his wife. "Whatever happened to..."

"Dumbledore?" Hermione stiffened. She couldn't even bring herself to check out Severus, but could sense how still he was. "He... He died at the beginning of last summer, Dad, remember?"

"He did? Oh, dear... Oh, I'm sorry. We'd completely forgotten."

"Wish I could," Severus sputtered under his breath; no one heard, not even Hermione.

"Yes, um, well Lord Voldemort was defeated in May."

"By Harry, you said?"

"Yes."

"How are your friends?" her mother inquired after, trying to keep off the touchy subject of their daughter's action last year. "Harry? The Weasleys?"

"They're well. Harry's training to be an Auror."

"A what?" her father interjected, confused.

"Oh, sorry, an Auror. They're specialists that work in Law Enforcement."

Mrs. Granger's eyes lit up. "Oh, like policemen?"

"Erm, sort of. It's a bit more complicated than that... And the Weasleys are doing all right. They lost Fred in the final battle, one of the twins. I told you about them, remember?"

Mrs. Granger brought a hand to her mouth. "Oh, my... Their son was killed?"

"Yes. It's been very hard on all of them."

"Poor Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. I remember meeting them at Diagon Alley before you started your second year. They were so kind..."

Just as Hermione feared, her father brought up the one ginger she didn't really want to discuss. "What about Ron? You're still friends with him, aren't you? Is he all right?"

"Erm, yes, Ron's fine. He's training to be an Auror, too. We - We haven't spoken in a while. We've both been very busy."

Hermione was grateful that Severus didn't make any sort of grunt or noise. Knowing he was probably livid as it was at the mere mention of the prat's name was enough. They avoided discussing Ron, both of them, at all costs these days.

"Well, what have _you_ been doing with yourself, Hermione?" Mr. Granger cracked a smile and it brought a tremendous sense of relief to her to see. It was the first time he had smiled at her since their arrival. "Did you go back to Hogwarts this year?"

"No, I - I didn't..." She knew they would find that bit of news shocking, and it showed. "After everything that happened, I just couldn't bring myself to go back. We went through a lot; too much for me to tell you in one or two sittings. Those of us who didn't return—and most of us haven't—received early graduation certificates."

"Are - Are you sure you don't want to finish, Hermione? That seems very unlike you to not finish out your education." Mrs. Granger turned to the pale wizard with the hooked nose sitting across from her. "Surely, Professor Snape, you'd prefer to see Hermione complete her education, wouldn't you?"

Severus didn't address the topic right away but thoughtfully gazed at Hermione, though her parents wouldn't have noticed it as a kind expression. "I think, ultimately, that's for Hermione to decide, Mrs. Granger. I respect her decision not to return." Hermione's mother blinked several times, overtly taken aback.

"We all experienced the horrors of this war differently," he explained, choosing his words carefully, and Hermione was the only one in the room who understood why.

"For Hermione and her peers, who are far too young to experience such things, the emotional and physical scars of that war will be etched on their lives for years to come. I understand why Hermione and others don't wish to return to where they witnessed so much death and destruction. I see no reason why Hermione should subject herself to more post-traumatic stress by returning to the school where she witnessed more horrors than most will experience in a lifetime."

Severus's hard-hitting words stung everyone in the room, and the Grangers looked quite shaken and uncomfortable at being smacked with the severity of what their daughter had experienced without their knowledge. Severus, of course, sensed this, too, and added with far less crudeness, "Your daughter is immensely talented, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. You needn't worry about how she'll fair without finishing her education. She's sharp enough to secure any job position she sets her mind to. Hermione will be fine."

Hermione glanced over at Severus, returning his considerate remarks with a warm smile. It wasn't his high compliments that struck her as much as the underlying fondness he illustrated when speaking about her. Hermione wasn't sure if her parents could perceive that understated affection, but, to her, it was immensely clear, and she couldn't help but react to such visible appreciation.

"Thank you, Professor," Mr. Granger broke the short silence that followed. "We know our daughter is very bright. We just hope she understands the gravity of not finishing. We'd hate to see her education go to waste."

"I can assure you, her education hasn't been wasteful. She's a capable witch. She'll be fine."

Mr. Granger cleared his throat and Hermione could sense her father's mind spinning behind the eyes, now trying to figure out the mysterious figure sitting across from him. "Do you still teach at Hogwarts?"

"No," Severus responded with the slightest reluctance. "I'm taking the year off. I will be returning next fall."

"Oh... Needed some time away after everything that happened?"

To Hermione, this was treading into unwanted territory. The last thing she wanted was for her parents to touch upon a sensitive nerve without knowing it or have them force Severus (and she) into a compromising position with their invasive questions. She knew Severus wasn't the least bit interested in rehashing this past year and certainly not to folks he hardly knew.

"Yes," was all her lover came back with in an attempt to close the matter.

"I'm sure you both must be overloaded with everything right now," Hermione interrupted. "We should give you two some time to yourselves."

"Oh!" The Grangers exchanged confounded looks. Mrs. Granger appeared suddenly nervous about their departure, or, at least, her daughter's. "You don't want to stay, sweetheart?"

"Well, there's a lot to catch up on, and you both are just becoming reacquainted with yourselves and... Me. I think I should give you some space. We don't want to overwhelm you."

"You don't have to leave, Hermione," her father insisted. "You haven't been here long, and you haven't even eaten dinner yet."

"Yes, why don't you stay for supper and we'll talk more?" As Hermione somewhat resented, her mother shot Severus a nervous look over. "You're welcomed to stay, too, Professor, if you'd like?"

"No, thank you," Severus answered, before Hermione could get a word in. "I think this is a night for you and your daughter. I don't wish to impose upon that any more than I already have."

"Severus," Hermione whispered, reaching to grab his wrist but he instantly recoiled.

"I have my own accommodations," he continued, as if she hadn't said anything. "I'll leave you to it."

"But—"

"What about you, dear?" her mother urged, as if Severus hadn't spoken. It unnerved Hermione a fraction, even if her mother wasn't aware of being rude. "We really need some time together as a family to work through some things. You'll stay, won't you?"

Hermione was flustered and overwhelmed, and before she could give any sort of a response, Severus had already nodded his goodbyes to her parents and silently headed for the door. "Wait, Severus," Hermione called to him, just as he was about to exit.

Severus turned to her, his black eyes soft and understanding, though no one would notice but her. "I'll speak to you soon, Hermione. Have a good night."

With that, he exited the house, giving Hermione over to her parents for the time being. Hermione didn't like not knowing where Severus was headed but suspected he wouldn't venture far. Something inside reassured her that he wasn't about to just wander off somewhere without telling her. The poor man probably needed some time to himself after so many hours amongst strangers, rehashing old memories about the war and addressing their questions with scruple.

At her parents' nagging insistence, Hermione was warped into not only staying for dinner, but also staying the night, though she tried repeatedly to tell them it wasn't necessary. "I have my own accommodations, Mum," she asserted as her mother fussed over making up the guest quarters. "This really isn't necessary."

"Nonsense, dear. We haven't seen you in— Well, an awfully long time. Don't you want to spend some time with us?"

"_Of course I do._"

"Then stay and we'll talk tomorrow."

Hermione sighed and eventually gave in. Once she sensed that she was completely alone in her parents' extra room, however, she sent off a Patronus message to Severus straight away.

"Are you all right? Where are you?"

A few minutes later, Severus's black panther came leaping through the wall. That's _going to take some getting used to_, Hermione thought after clutching her chest at the unexpected sight of the magnificent wildcat.

"I'm fine," came Severus's monotone reply. "I found a small inn a couple miles away. Its quarters don't leave much to the imagination, but it'll do. How are you?"

"I'm fine. I've been forced into spending the night. I guess you probably figured that by now, but I wanted to let you know.

"They asked a lot more about the war, about my plans for the future and such. Telling them where I've been staying was a bit tricky. All I said was that I have a flat of my own." She paused to bite her lower lip. "I'd like to tell them about us, but only when you're here. It'll force them to behave and not flip their lids."

Severus's Patronus returned a minute later, laughing at her. "I don't think you should spring me on them too quickly, Hermione. Give it some time. They've only just gotten you back. No need to inform them that they've lost you to me in the very same breath."

"Oh, codswallop. They haven't lost me. They'll just have to share me now. They asked about you, too, you know..."

"Oh?" his dark purr provoked, bringing a smile to her lips. "Do tell."

"They asked if you'd brought me here, for starters. I explained how you located their address for me and helped me track them down. They think you appropriately reserved, too quiet, and Mum finds something about your eyes 'very unsettling.'" Hermione snickered. "They're going to take to you so well, I can already tell."

"Your sarcasm is getting out of hand," he reprimanded lightly. "I could have told you well beforehand that they wouldn't take a liking to my exceptional social skills and good graces."

"Rubbish. You _have_ graces, Severus, you just use them sparingly."

"This is true."

Hermione changed topics. There was another reason she had been adamant about connecting with Severus aside from the fact that she had been worried about where he was.

"I still have your tonics in my bag. Want me to bring them to you?"

A growl echoed from the cat's mouth that made Hermione titter, though only briefly. "No, _Mum_, stay where you are. I can get them tomorrow if need be."

"Severus, you really shouldn't be without them. It'll only take me a minute," she paused to curl her lips, "or two..."

"Ahhh, I see, so you _want_ something from me."

"I do not! I was just alluding to the fact that it wouldn't take long. So, where are you?"

"Not telling," he returned, aggravating Hermione to no end.

"Git! You enjoy tormenting me, don't you?"

"When I can, yes."

"Figures," she snorted, taking a moment to glance at the empty side of the bed beside her. "You know, this is the first time in I can't even remember how long that I won't be sleeping next to you."

"Are you teary-eyed?" he baited when his Patronus pounced through her window, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you need consoling or a hanky, perhaps?"

"You're such an arse! I don't want to talk to you anymore."

Hermione could detect the smile in Severus's reply when it came back to her, and it caused her to simper as well. "You know I'd rather have you here."

"So let me come."

"I'm not about to corrupt the Grangers' only daughter."

"Are you kidding? You already did that a long time ago, _Professor._"

"Point taken." The panther's ears perked up. "I could always come there?"

"Oh, nice one... Sneak into my bedroom window like some horny teenager?" Hermione laughed at the mere image it conjured up in her head when she sent her cougar off to him.

"You have to admit, it all sounds rather mischievous and fun."

"Who knew _you_ were capable of both?" she giggled, finding herself blushing. "Very tempting, scoundrel, but no. I'd rather introduce you to my parents _properly_. Not over an unwanted middle-of-the-night escapade in their guest bedroom."

"Point taken again." There was a considerable break in conversation before Severus's deep register switched, growing somber and quieter. "I miss you. Good luck tomorrow."

Hermione sighed heavily. "I miss you, too, you miserable louse. Send a message to me if you need anything, all right? Otherwise, I'll get your tonics to you tomorrow for sure. I'd like you to come over."

"Oh? Why?"

"Because I'd like to properly introduce you to my parents. That's what. Thought you could weasel your way out of it?"

"Already? What happened to my suggestion of introducing me slowly?"

"Better they know sooner than later. You know me. It'll slip out at the most inconvenient time otherwise. Besides, I... I want you with me. There's no reason for you to be off wandering around by yourself. We're together now, and my parents have the right to know."

Severus returned her burdensome sigh. "Very well. Whatever you say."

"That's right, you." Hermione's fetching smile returned, only the ache in her chest was bothersome. "I love you. Get some sleep."

"I love you, too," came his very endearing, much softer declaration a minute or two later.

As Hermione's head hit the pillow, she guided her hand along the opposite side of the bed. The sheets were cold and lifeless and right where Severus _should_ have been.

_I hope Mum and Dad will be more receptive than I'm imagining_, she reflected a little sorely as she closed her eyes, and, with some difficulty, drifted off to sleep alone for the first time in months.

* * *

Hermione hadn't really put much stock in her parents' forgiveness shortly after arriving but found them to be in much better spirits the following morning, even if they were still experiencing shock at having their world turned upside down. For the most part, however, they acted much like their old selves, which made Hermione more than happy to hang around. Perhaps it was their daughters' presence that was enough to put them in a good mood, she wasn't sure. Either way, she welcomed it.

Hermione hadn't slept well though, and although her mind probably should have been preoccupied with how to tell her parents about Severus, she was more concerned with his welfare at the moment. Not taking his tonics was troublesome, but not having him nearby where she could keep an eye on him should anything go wrong was worse.

Hermione found herself sneaking off multiple times that morning to send her Patronus to check in on how he was doing. Finally, after the sixth or seventh time, Severus's panther came pounding into her bathroom with a snarly glare that was reminiscent of his master.

"Hermione, for Merlin's sake, would you knock it off? I'm perfectly fine! Go and bond with Mummy and Daddy over a latte and leave me be for a while."

Hermione smirked and laughed to herself before sending off her reply. "Very well, you crab."

Severus's Patronus returned before she could exit the bathroom door, much to her surprise. "I'm sorry, I know you're just wanting to check up on me, but you're wasting time doing so instead of spending time with your parents. Go and have fun. If I need something, I'll let you know."

_Adorable man. Such progress._

She thought he sounded well enough, but the man was a master of disguise, so Hermione wasn't entirely convinced as she waltzed back downstairs to join her parents on their back screened-in porch. It was another sunny day with a light breeze and warm, comfortable weather.

"Where do you keep running off to?" her father inquired when she came out to join them, giving her a peculiar look when she went to sit down.

"Huh?"

Hermione wasn't sure what to make of her father's devious smile, but it was rather all-knowing, and much like hers. She didn't like it.

"Your mother and I know you have quick ways of communicating besides owls. Who were you talking to?"

Hermione jolted in her chair. "What? No one."

_That was far too hasty, Hermione..._

"A boy, perhaps?" Mr. Granger pursued, his grin extending. Even Mrs. Granger was eying her daughter with a funny smile over her morning newspaper.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Dad!" Hermione huffed and tried not to go beet red.

"Your Mum and I have been taking bets. Is it Harry?"

"_What?_"

"He seems like a really sweet boy," her mother started, sending a wave of animated expressions across Hermione's face.

"My god, Mother, _no!_"

"Oh... Well, what about Ron?" she pressed lightly, making Hermione's cheek burn. "I remember you being rather fond of him last year..."

"_That's_ why she was so mum about him before, dear," her dad chimed in, bringing his mug of coffee to his satisfied lips. "I think they've been dating and she isn't ready to tell us."

"_What?_ Merlin, no, Dad! That's _not_ it!"

"Oh?" he baited, flashing his perfect teeth at her.

Hermione crossed her arms. Her entire face felt like it was on fire.

"Really, Dad, you're not as charming as you think."

"I'd prefer to think so," he moped dramatically, egging her on.

"Dad, honestly, cut it out."

"Then who is it?" Mrs. Granger plopped her paper down in her lap and gave Hermione her full, undivided attention.

Hermione felt backed into a corner. There was no way her reaction wasn't giving her away, but this wasn't how she wanted to breach this sensitive subject. Not at all. She wanted to have Severus here with her, but it was looking like her perfect plan was being shot to hell.

"Honey, we _know_ there's someone. It's obvious. Why so secretive? Why can't you just tell us?"

"Be - Because," she stammered, squirming in her chair.

Mr. Granger's brown eyes danced. "Does he not brush his teeth?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Dad! _Yes_, he brushes his teeth! Good Lord!"

"Ahhh, so there_ is_ someone!"

"You're both infuriating," she grumbled, falling back in her chair and putting a hand to her head.

"Who is it, dear?" her mother pressed. "C'mon, out with it."

Hermione glanced from one parent to the other, skepticism mounting her brow. She inadvertently bit her lip as well, which both her parents already knew to be a sign of nerves. They exchanged curious glances with one another, their expressions no longer playful.

"Why are you so afraid to tell us?"

"Because you won't understand," came her strained reply that left them worried.

"How do you know unless you tell us?"

Hermione could hear the newfound concern in her mother's tone, and it did very little to encourage her to give up her secret. There was no way out of this one, save for running out of the house, something Hermione wasn't keen on. After all, hadn't she just been telling Severus the night before that they deserved to know the truth?

_It's either now or later, Hermione_, her mind reminded her. _Best get it over with._

"All right." She sat up straight in her chair. "If I tell you, I want you both to give me your word that you'll hear me out—_completely_—before bombarding me with questions. You have the right to know, but I also have the right to explain and defend my position."

"Merlin, Hermione," her father issued with obvious apprehension, "you make it sound like he's some sort of madman..."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to, only I know how you both get, and I have the right to express how I feel first before you both jump down my throat."

"We'll - We'll try not to, sweetheart." Her mother offered reassuringly, but she only looked more worried than ever. "We'll listen. Go ahead."

"Very well." Hermione brought her hands together in her lap, examining them sharply for a moment before she drew in a calculated breath and met her parents' scrutinizing stares. "It's Severus Snape."


	58. Explanations Out the Arse

**A/N: Sorry, it wasn't my intention to keep you waiting a little while longer for this update (_honest!_) **

**Anyhow, meaningful conversations abound in this chapter. I welcome (and greatly appreciate!) your feedback, as ever. _Thanks, guys! _  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 58: Explanations Out the Arse**

Hermione studied her parents' individual reactions. Her father's features had pulled tight, his mouth cast into a frown of judgment and uncertainty. He looked more cross than shocked, whereas her mother was staring at her wide-eyed and a shade whiter than before. Neither of their expressions was enthusiastic, encouraging, or the least bit understanding, and Hermione did her best not to squirm in her chair and back down.

"Wha - What?" her mother trembled slightly in response after a minute or two.

"Mum..."

"_Professor Snape?_"

"Severus, Mum. He has a name."

"Are you joking?" her father surprised her by blurting out, his pupils dilated.

"Of course not!" came her testy reply with a sour look that matched his own.

"Hermione..." Her mother shook her head a little, stricken by the news. "He... He's your _professor._"

"_Was_ my professor, Mum, and well before anything happened between us."

"What?"

"Are you going to let me explain or sit there and judge me the whole time?"

"Now, just a moment." Her father threw up a hand, demanding that she back off. "You threw us an unexpected curveball, Hermione. You just told us that you've been seeing your professor, the man who was just inside our home less than twenty-four hours ago. How would you like us to react? With immediate understanding?"

"I'm sorry." Hermione rubbed her temples. "Look, I've had to explain this multiple times already and I'm getting rather sick of it."

"You - You have?" her mother breathed, to which Hermione nodded.

"Yes. Most everyone knows."

"Then how... How long have you been with this man?"

Hermione arched an eyebrow. _'This man'? Merlin, Mum, he's not inhuman._

"Almost two years."

Mr. Granger flinched, and Mrs. Granger turned to her husband in shock. "You mean to tell me you've been dating this man since you were sixteen? _In school?_"

"_Seventeen._ And it's not what you're thinking, Dad."

"What do you know what I'm thinking!" he snapped.

"Dad," Hermione mustered calmness to keep going, "he never took advantage of me. He didn't even like me. _I_ pursued _him._"

That seemed to stun them even more, to the point that they both reared back from her. "What on earth, Hermione?" Mrs. Granger whispered, staring at her daughter anew. "What would possess you to pursue a teacher?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, it's _not_ like that!"

"Then _how_ is it exactly?" Mr. Granger crossed his arms and scrutinized her sharply from across the room. "Start explaining."

Hermione let out a prolonged sigh. "It started in my sixth year, like I said: two years ago. I was given detention for... For drawing my wand on him." She caught the flash of rebuke in their eyes. "He had said some things to me in the library one evening that angered me enough that I reacted. I wanted to prove him wrong. He slapped me with detention three nights a week 'till Christmas, and—"

"Prague..." her mother interrupted, her mouth hanging open. "Is that why you insisted that your father and I stay for the holiday? So that you...and the professor could..."

Hermione blinked hard. "Of course not, Mum! It had nothing to do with that. I just didn't want you to cut your vacation short on my behalf. Good Lord!" She quickly moved on, not at all appreciating the fresh scrutiny her parents were giving her. "_Anyway_, I ended up helping him with some of his Potions research, and over the course of the term we became friends. _And we were strictly friends for several months._

"During that time, I came to really see a side to Severus no one else sees. He opened up to me in a way he never has to anyone. He... He's had a very rough life. He didn't have the happy childhood or magical Hogwarts experience I've had. He didn't have parents who loved and appreciated and encouraged him. He didn't have friends growing up either, save one, and she ended up abandoning him, too."

Hermione could tell her mother was listening more thoughtfully now. Her father, however, was evidently going to take _a lot_ more convincing. His stone cold expression hadn't altered.

"I know I've complained to you both in the past about how Severus was bitter, crude, cold... In many ways, I suppose, he'll always be that way. If I had had the kind of life he's had, I'd be highly mistrustful and angry, too. The difference for me was that, after getting to know him, I finally understood where it all stems from. I also saw the real man beneath all that aloofness. He's actually quite gentle—at least, to _me_ he is—and he has a sense of humor and he makes me laugh and he's considerate and means well and... And to his credit, he's changed _a lot_. He's made so much progress. I'm really proud of him.

"Anyway, we were just friends for a while, and we were spending a lot of time together because of my detentions. I started stopping by his office virtually every evening just to chat and work on homework. It was all really innocent. At first, I thought perhaps I was just lonely. Harry and Ron are good mates, but they can't have the stimulating conversations with me I'd like to have. You know me...

"With Severus though, _I can_. We feed off each other really well. I can keep up with him and he keeps up with me. I haven't found _anyone_ like that before, and you both know I've expressed to you in the past how much of an outsider I've felt for being an intellectual. With Severus, I... I don't have to justify myself. I don't have to put on a front. _I can simply be myself._ You have no idea how great that feels..."

"So, you were friends," Mr. Granger reiterated, his expression changing only slightly because of what Hermione had just expressed, "until _when?_"

"Until near the end of term that year. Then it turned romantic, and it wasn't something either of us anticipated. I can't tell you how many times Severus pushed my efforts away just to become his friend—"

"It - It became romantic while you were at _school?_"

"Mum, nothing bad happened. Only kissing and hugging; nothing more."

"But he was your professor!" she insisted, speaking in a hushed voice, as if she expected the neighbors to overhear.

"Yes, he was, Mum, and he tried to keep the atmosphere between us professional. He certainly tried a lot harder than I did. He fought me on his feelings for a long time. He tried to dissuade me from caring for him in the slightest. He's used to being left alone and not thought of at all, Mum. Have you any idea what that feels like?"

"Hermione..."

"Listen, let me get through this. The way we left things over the summer that I...did what I did to you...was bad. War had broken out, we were all trying to protect Harry, and Severus wasn't... He wasn't on our side; or so we all thought at the time, including me."

"What do you mean?" Mr. Granger eye's had turned into slits at that remark.

"Severus was a double agent, Dad. He spied for the Order—you both remember the Order, yes?—and for Lord Voldemort. Voldemort never suspected him of any wrongdoing, but he would relay information to Dumbledore and to the Order of whatever he found out. He had been branded into Voldemort's circle early in life and was considered a trustworthy follower. I explained the Death Eaters to you before, remember?"

"Yes..." came her mother's soft-spoken response. An eerie chill crept over the atmosphere. "So, Professor Snape was one of them?"

"He was but his allegiance was always to Harry, Dumbledore, me... Everyone on our side. We just didn't know it; I understand now that was how it had to be at the time. If anyone knew, if anyone slipped up saying something about Severus's allegiance, his role could have been severely compromised. He could've died. He went through an awful lot for us, for me... And he's never gotten so much as a 'thank you' from the wizarding world for his efforts."

"Why not?" There was nothing accusatory in her father's question, only mere curiosity.

"Because of who he is, Dad. Severus is removed; he keeps to himself, he doesn't communicate well, and he hasn't offered up anything to anyone outside of me, and, even then, only selectively.

"Everyone knows Severus to be hard and verbally cruel, but it's only because none of them have bothered to understand him at all. There were many members in the Order who outright ignored him and what he did. Many of them bullied him when they were at school together and continued to get their digs in at him at meetings and the like, making snide remarks that Severus matched.

"Severus has never been well liked... The only person who ever really stood up for him at all or trusted him worth a damn was Dumbledore, and that's because the Headmaster was the only person who knew what Severus was doing; who was truly abreast of the risks he was taking every day, of what he endured mentally, physically, emotionally. And Severus wanted it that way."

Hermione went into Severus's war efforts, though she purposely left Dumbledore's death out of the equation. She knew that was a conversation in itself worth having, but she would need an entire time set aside to answer their questions and worries and trepidations about _that_. She explained how they came back together during the war, even of Malfoy Manor and what she endured for his sake, of the final battle and how Severus was bitten and her efforts to save his life, of his wrongful stint in Azkaban prison, of his testimonies against his fellow Death Eaters, and of his looming health problems.

By the time she was through relaying everything she could think of—minus Dumbledore and the fact that they had been living together for six months, not to mention having regular sex—it was almost noon. Her parents relayed various questions and concerns, and Hermione answered with as much clarity as possible. She could still see the apprehensions marring their faces, but it didn't matter to her anymore. They knew the truth about the man she loved—for the most part—and her strong sentiments in return.

"Hermione," her mother spoke slowly, "he's considerably older than you, isn't he? I mean, he... He certainly_ looks_ much older than you."

"Yes, he is."

"_How_ old, exactly?"

"He'll be thirty nine next month."

"_Thirty-nine?_" Mr. Granger repeated, raising a judgemental eyebrow.

"Yes." Hermione stood her ground, never backing down from their inquiries or often prejudice remarks. "I think you've both figured that I wouldn't end up with someone my age, haven't you? I never really thought about it until I met Severus, but I really can't relate to boys my age. I tried with Ron, and that was the biggest headache of my life.

"It... It feels right, Dad. I know _you_ don't think so, but it works for _us_. The age difference really doesn't factor into our relationship much at all. We're comfortable with each other, and it isn't something we regularly think about."

"But what about your friends? Don't they think it—"

"They're slowly coming around. I don't think they'll ever be completely comfortable or understand our attraction. I don't think anyone truly 'gets us,' not even Harry.

"Severus keeps to himself when he wants to, so, if I want to see Harry or Ginny or anyone else, I'll go out with them on my own and Severus will do his thing. It really doesn't bother either one of us. He'll come around more once he gets more at ease with my friends."

"Well, what about this situation at Hogwarts?" Mrs. Granger scooted forward in her chair. "You really want to do a long distance relationship, Hermione? That's awfully hard."

Hermione knew it was all in an effort to dissuade her, and she wouldn't have it. "It's not ideal, but we'll make it work. I don't like the idea at all, but I understand. And anyway, I'm happy for him. He's been looking for a job for a while, Mum, and I know being employed and having something to occupy his time again means a lot to him."

"You seem to be sacrificing an awful lot to be with this man, Hermione." She eyed her father cautiously, as he did her. "I hope he realizes everything you're giving up for him..."

"Dad..." She tried to reproach him silently, but he, too, inched forward in his chair and displayed his reservations candidly.

"I mean it, Hermione. Your reputation, your future, a life with a man who won't have as many years as you—"

"Dad!"

"You _are_ sacrificing for him, and he had better bloody well appreciate it!"

"_He does_, Dad! He's as skeptical as you are, believe me. He loves me, but he'd rather see me with someone else, as ridiculous as that is, because he's just as convinced as you that someone younger could make me happier. It upsets me, but I try to be reassuring."

"Yes, well, just so long as he's grateful," Mr. Granger mumbled under his breath.

"Will you both at least give him the chance and the benefit of the doubt? You don't know him, and he's not sitting here to defend himself. Your prejudgments aren't helping."

"Hermione, you sprung this on us," her mother insisted, trying to keep everyone's tempers under wraps. "We _are_ trying to understand, dear, and we... We'll do our best to give him, as you said, the 'benefit of the doubt.'"

_Yeah, right_, she wanted to snort but refrained. It was all a forced effort on her mother's part. She was clearly just as ill-receptive towards Severus as her father. _Did you expect anything different, Hermione?_ her conscience reminded her.

"Well, I'd like to invite him over for dinner tonight, if that's all right with you?"

"Oh!" Mrs. Granger startled, unprepared. She turned to her husband for support. "Well, erm, sure, I suppose that would be fine."

Hermione couldn't stop herself from glaring. "Just don't give him a hard time while he's here. I've told you what I feel comfortable sharing, and the war especially is a highly sensitive topic for him. There's things_ I_ don't even know about what he went through, and I've learned not to push him, so please don't press him on any of it, will you?"

"Very well," Mrs. Granger acknowledged with a curt bow.

"And don't ask about his health either, all right? That will mortify him. He feels debilitated enough as it is."

"All right..."

"Approach him cautiously and delicately about things and he just might give you more than a 'yes' or 'no' answer; but don't expect anything more. I'm the only person he's ever been himself around and probably ever will be. Don't take it personally if he's short and direct with you. It's the way he is with everyone. It's not something he can help."

Mr. Granger shifted one leg over the other and shot his wife a dose of their unanimous skepticism before returning his attention to his daughter. "Is there anything we _can_ discuss openly with him?"

To this, Hermione cracked a sincere smile for the first time in hours. "Me," she assured them happily. "Ask him anything you want about me, and he'll be quite candid with you."

* * *

Severus made the long—well, short—walk up to the front door of the Grangers' home, having no idea what to expect this time around. He wasn't nervous, but was more irritated than anything else, particularly at having to attempt to be on his best behavior. He certainly wasn't accustomed to watching what he said or the manner with which he stood or how he took to someone else's hospitality. Having to do so now at this stage in his life would have been entirely ridiculous, if not for her.

_Hermione..._

She had told them all about him at this point, much to his personal dissatisfaction, and now he would be forced to 'face the music,' as it were. Being judged without others knowing much about him was annoying enough. Now, Hermione wasn't the only one who knew quite a bit more than left him comfortable with—about his past, his experiences, his darkness, his irrevocable flaws...

How much exactly had Hermione, in fact, shared with them? She had informed him that she didn't mention Dumbledore, or the fact that they had been living together for half a year now. The latter he would gladly leave to Hermione's discretion as to when to drop _that_ bombshell. As to the former, well, he would gladly avoid that subject forever if granted the opportunity.

They were Muggles, for starters. It was difficult enough for people in the wizarding community to accept that Severus Snape's crime had, in actuality, been a final act of good will, and only at the old man's request. Most still didn't trust or believe that reality to be the truth. To expect the Grangers to understand his abominable actions would be even more trying, and, frankly, Severus didn't possess the patience for it.

_They won't understand. Period. End of story._

Severus was simply determined to get through this evening without making a real mess of things. The only thought that propelled him forward was the witch he loved and desperately wanted to hold onto. It was strictly for her that he was putting himself under such unnecessary scrutiny. He didn't so much care whether her parents accepted him or not, just as long as _Hermione_ didn't come to the abrupt decision by the end of the night that she didn't want him after all. He wasn't going to disappoint her if it could be helped.

_Don't you dare screw this up, Severus._

Severus took a calculated breath as he climbed three steps to the front porch, when the door suddenly swung open, halting him in his tracks. There stood Hermione, in a pretty, periwinkle blue top and khaki shorts, her wild hair half pulled back whilst the remaining curls fell effortlessly around her shoulders. She was casually dressed but, to him, beautiful, nonetheless.

Severus had wanted to sink into the wooden floorboards and disappear until this very moment. Seeing her after spending the night alone confirmed all over again _why_ he was willing to do this. It was for _her_. It was all in an effort _to keep her_.

Unaware of his resolve, Hermione rushed towards him and flung her arms around his cravat, throwing him slightly off kilter. "Hey, you," she whispered, pecking his cheek before he could reply back.

"Hi."

Hermione's pink lips smiled against his skin. "You ready for this?"

"Do I have a choice?" he muttered, sending her into fits of giggles, as she led him by the hand into the house for the second time.

The Grangers were out on their back porch, sitting side by side with their heads huddled close together. Severus knew what they were so anxiously jabbering on about in their hushed, excited voices: _him_. The man they didn't approve of. The wizard who was far too old to be courting their only daughter.

Severus tried not to cringe as he followed Hermione out onto the porch. When the Grangers lifted their eyes to meet his, Severus swiftly slipped his hand out of Hermione's and placed it, along with the other, firmly behind his back. Hermione surveyed him questioningly at first but let it go. He _had_ to be nervous now that her parents knew nearly all, and she wasn't about to make things more awkward than they had to be.

"Good evening, Professor," Mrs. Granger timidly greeted him.

The woman quickly jumped to her feet and extended her arm out to shake his hand. Mr. Granger hovered behind his wife, staring at Severus with fairly obvious discouragement. Hermione could only hope he wasn't inspecting Severus's teeth. It was clear that they were both disapproving of Severus as their daughter's suitor, even if, at the very least, Mrs. Granger was attempting some good manners.

_Did you really expect anything more?_ Severus barraged himself, hesitantly accepting Mrs. Granger's handshake, then her husband's, which was much quicker and colder to the touch.

Hermione saw her parents' bafflement at Severus's long, black robes and frock coat, which they inspected outright. She almost wanted to laugh but refrained; they had seen it all before, but apparently they were now taking him in anew. Her lover didn't seem to have noticed anything to be out of synch, or perhaps he was merely choosing not to.

_Much more likely_, Hermione mused to herself.

"Dad was just about to fix us some drinks," she piped up after an uneasy silence lurked following their formal handshakes. "I think the general consensus is white wine. What would you like, Severus?"

"Nothing for me, thank you."

Mrs. Granger's eyebrows rose. "Would you like some tea, perhaps? We have several flavors. Or coffee?"

"I'll take some water, thank you."

"Very well." Mr. Granger hurried out of the room, as if he couldn't wait to get away from the dark presence standing too close to his daughter, whilst those remaining took a seat, Severus and Hermione in chairs directly across from her fidgeting mother.

"Aren't you hot, Professor?" her mother inquired, scanning his clothes more thoroughly.

"Not really, no." His reply was low, monotone, and Hermione could tell it was throwing off her overly attentive mother.

"It's his signature look," Hermione offered with a smile; Severus said nothing.

"Oh, well, I keep forgetting you both just came over from England, where the weather would be quite nippy right now."

Hating feeling compelled to say something where he didn't feel it was warranted, Severus merely nodded a compliant "Indeed," and tried not to make a disgruntled face.

Mrs. Granger toyed with her hands as Hermione watched her closely. She didn't like her parents making such a blatant display of how ill-at-ease they were, but there wasn't anything she could do except keep an eye on Severus and hope that he wouldn't take to her parents too badly. She had to give him credit. He was sincerely trying for her sake.

"I don't believe we properly introduced ourselves yesterday when you were here."

At that moment, Mr. Granger came stalking in with everyone's refreshments. Hermione had an innate urge to levitate the tray and disperse everyone's cups; it would have been a hell of a lot faster, but it was also a morose reminder of the very different life she led from her family.

Mr. Granger handed Severus his glass of water, which he accepted graciously but without much expression. He took the smallest sip and placed it delicately on his thigh.

"My name's Elizabeth," Hermione's mother continued once her husband took a seat by her side, "and this is George. We're dentists. We used to own a practice back home, but evidently we sold that and moved here, so..."

"I've been continuing to practice since we arrived," George finished.

Severus nodded solemnly but offered up nothing in return, causing Elizabeth to lean forward and eye him, unsure. "Do you know what dentistry is?"

"_Mum!_" Hermione hissed.

Elizabeth glanced back at her daughter, bewildered. "What? I'm just asking! He's a wizard, so I - I wasn't sure—"

"Yes, I'm aware of what a dentist does," Severus interrupted, calm and collected. "I grew up as a Muggle, much like Hermione. I'm familiar with your world."

"Oh, yes, of course. Hermione told us a little about your background. You attended Hogwarts as well?"

"Yes, I did."

"Was the education very different then from now?"

"No, hardly at all. The curriculum's been reorganized, but it's virtually the same as when I was there."

"And you're a Potions-maker?"

"Correct."

"What exactly does that entail?"

"I brew medicines to combat ailments and accidents."

"That's an understatement," Hermione piped up, giving him an encouraging smile. She could see the softer reaction in his eyes, but her parents wouldn't have. His face, to them, was as hard and unmoving as stone.

"Oh... That sounds interesting."

To this, Severus_ did_ crack a small smile, but it was of a sarcastic nature, and only Hermione caught the meaning behind it. "Yes, it is quite interesting. I enjoy it."

"But you didn't teach last year? Or, oh, I'm sorry, the year before."

"No, I taught Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Hermione tells me that's always been your favorite subject?"

"Indeed, yes. It's very fascinating."

"It... It sounds a bit frightening to me. I remember glancing through one of Hermione's books on the subject one time."

"Most of it is frightening, yes, but necessary if one is to understand magic's darker capabilities."

"That's something you know and saw a lot of, isn't it?"

It was George who entered the conversation now, sitting back with his wine in his lap and a daring sort of gleam in his eyes that made Hermione lean forward. Severus went a little stiff in the shoulders but didn't appear dismayed by the question.

"Yes, it is," was all he replied with.

"Why aren't you the Headmaster anymore?"

Hermione jerked and was about to interject but lost the opportunity to Severus. "By all intents and purposes, I should still be Headmaster, but considering my brush with death," he paused, drawing out every word, "and that my stint was highly unpopular, I relinquished it to Professor McGonagall. She's far more suited to that position and will do very well."

Hermione let out the breath she had been holding. He responded much better to her father's inquiry than she anticipated, which was encouraging for all of two seconds, until her father spoke again.

"Why'd you become a Death Eater?"

"_Dad!_" Hermione angrily implored.

Elizabeth quickly interrupted to alleviate the overt tension in the room. "I - I apologize, Professor. I think what my husband's trying to ask is how you became drawn to the Dark Arts? We understand your upbringing wasn't a very loving one—"

Hermione threw up her arms. "All right, enough."

"That's not what I was asking at all, Liz," George told his wife with an affirmative air, still eying Severus up and down.

"Sweetheart—"

"I wish to know how my daughter came to be involved with someone who takes pride in torture and inflicting harm upon others. It's a legitimate question."

"Dad, don't be a tosser!"

Hermione scuffed her feet on the floor, but her father didn't desist. Severus said nothing, nor did he remove his steadfast stare. Finally, he blinked, his long eyelashes catching a flicker of the setting sun that trickled onto the porch.

"I became drawn to the Dark Arts at an early age because of my upbringing," he answered without feeling; it was mechanical and of a tone Hermione's parents weren't accustomed to, "and also due to an unnatural fascination with the subject matter. I became a Death Eater because I was naïve and misguided and thought it would be some sort of step towards greatness.

"When my best fr—former best friend's life was threatened, I switched sides to protect her, of which I failed, as did the wizard who gave me his word that he'd do everything within his power to help. I remained a Death Eater to spy against Lord Voldemort in the hopes of aiding Hermione's good friend, Harry Potter, to one day defeat him. I will forever be tainted as a member of that harrowing group in our history, but you're correct, Dr. Granger: torture and inflicting harm are attributes the Death Eaters pride themselves on. I only briefly, in my youth and in my ignorance, believed in their dark philosophies. That is not who I am, but I was a Death Eater, and I will forever hold the bearings of the Mark and the gravity of what that entails."

Severus crept back into silence, not breaking eye contact all the while with George who, by the end of the wizard's explanation, was recoiling a little. "The Mark?" his wife asked curiously, diverting the conversation somewhat.

Hermione started to explain but Severus was already unbuttoning the clasps along his left wrist. "Severus, you don't have to—" she tried to stop him, but Severus clearly wasn't going to listen. She shook her head, annoyed with her parents to no end, as Severus rolled back his sleeves and extended his left arm out for them to observe.

"The Dark Mark," he clarified. "The marking of a Death Eater."

"It - It looks like a tattoo," said Elizabeth, examining the skull and snake with a mixture of intrigue and abhorrence.

"It is, but it's also a curse. A permanent one. Nothing can erradicate it."

With that, Severus withdrew his arm and began fastening up his buttons again, just as quickly as he had undone them. Hermione sat back in her chair, one hand to her head, gazing over at him with a most apologetic look that he merely shrugged off.

"Don't Death Eaters hate Muggles like us?" George was evidently hung up on the subject, and when his eyes met his daughter's, hers were cold and unforgiving. "Like Hermione?"

"Yes, they do," Severus didn't hesitate to answer. "It's one of many philosophies of theirs that I don't share."

"So, you never hated Muggle-borns ever?"

"The only Muggle I've ever hated was a male, and it wasn't because he was a Muggle but because he was, simply put, an arse."

Hermione nearly choked on her wine and suppressed her smile behind the glass. She knew, of course, who Severus was referring to, which wasn't all that funny, but the fact that he hadn't even hesitated to watch his mouth was, to her, comical. Severus's eyes blinked in her direction for a moment before returning to her parents. Hermione's mother was staring, still wide-eyed and uneasy, whilst her father merely scowled.

"Did you take advantage of my daughter whilst she was at school?"

Hermione startled in her seat. "Dad, what the—"

"George," Elizabeth additionally chided him, but he didn't so much as flinch, and neither did Severus.

"I took advantage of her, yes," he shocked them all by answering.

Hermione all but jumped out of her chair, staring at him pleadingly. "_Severus—_"

"I took advantage of her friendship, for one," Severus ignored her completely. "Your daughter was kind and understanding and exceedingly patient with me, and I abused my professional relationship with her because I was isolated and alone. Mind you, Dr. Granger, I attempted to put a stop to it several times, but Hermione is a persistent nagger and doesn't stop in trying to get what she wants. It's both a hindrance and an annoyingly admirable quality in her."

At least_ that_ brought a smile to her face, one that Severus caught out of the corner of his eye. "Ultimately, I allowed my heart to overrule my intellect, something I don't normally allow. I never expected, nor initially wished, for things to progress to this point, but there was a connection we both felt very strongly about, and, by the time we acknowledged its existence, I was unwilling to go back. That fault—if you wish to view it as such—is my own.

"I never took advantage of your daughter outside of kissing her or embracing her. By all accounts, as her instructor, that's_ still_ overstepping my bounds. I'm aware of that, as I was at the time. You're within your rights to degrade my behavior as you see fit. It was unprofessional, and very untoward of me, for that matter."

"Severus," Hermione tried again, reaching out to touch his arm, but he kept talking.

"I abused our relationship, Dr. Granger, yes. I acknowledged my feelings for your daughter and accepted the possibility of something more. I wish the circumstances would have been different. There are a lot of things I wish better for Hermione—"

"_Oh?_" George challenged, tilting his head.

Severus, however, remained steadfast and unfazed. "Indeed. I wish I were younger. I wish I were kinder, more social, more gracious, and less bitter about the world. I wish I could provide well for her. I wish I were healthier, able to keep up with her, and know in the back of my mind that I'll be able to take care of her for many years to come."

"Severus, _please—_" Hermione begged, now desperate to put a stop to things.

"But I'm afraid I can't. I don't have much to offer Hermione outside of what I already _can_ give, and I'm aware that that isn't much."

Listening to his self-deprecation was devastating. Hermione massaged his arm to get his attention and tried to smile, but his frown and the black depths of his eyes were nearly lifeless when he met her softened gaze. She could perceive the shame creeping onto his face—an understated, heart-wrenching expression she knew her parents wouldn't be able to decipher—and turned to her father, resolute.

"All right, Dad. Enough."

"We're just talking, sweetheart," came his harsh reply. He didn't appear at all moved by Severus's sentiments, much to her disappointment. "I'm trying to understand this man's intentions."

Hermione narrowed her now fiery, caramel eyes. "He has a name, Dad."

"Hermione—" Severus tried to dissuade her from provoking him further, but it was proving a wastful effort.

"What do you go by?" Elizabeth tried to ease the strain by asking another question. "Do you prefer 'Professor' or..."

"I normally prefer Professor but, seeing as these circumstances are different, you may call me Severus, if you wish."

"And what are your intentions with my daughter, _Severus?_" George shot his wife's peace offering right in the foot by inserting another challenging question, and one that was abrasively asked.

Severus blinked. "To make Hermione happy."

"That's not enough."

"_Dad!_" Hermione huffed. "Enough!"

"No, you're right, it isn't, but, as I've already informed you, Dr. Granger, I have very little to offer Hermione—"

"That's not true, Sev—"

"—and, thus, would like to do whatever I can to ensure that she's happy and well looked after."

George shook his head. "Lots of men make such unfulfilled promises."

"George," Elizabeth tried once more to reach her husband but to little avail.

"Indeed, they do," Severus agreed without hesitation, "but as someone who's been alone most of his life, I can assure you that it's not a promise I, myself, take lightly."

"_Is that so?_"

"Yes." Severus paused, his hands clamping tighter around his unconsumed glass of water. "I love Hermione."

The words were literally torn from his throat, as if it took everything he had to publicly declare so to the strangers sitting across from him, and Hermione's shock was appropriately dramatic. She stared long and hard, both moved and proud, and slid her hand down Severus's arm to take him by the hand, expecting him to brush her away, but he didn't. He readily allowed her to intertwine her fingers through his.

"You had best make her happy, Severus," was all George could say back, his voice quivering slightly when he caught sight of their intimate handholding. "My daughter deserves to be loved and respected."

Severus gave a respectable bow. "I know."

"Yes, well, knowing and doing so are two different things!"

Severus's raven irises constricted. "I'm well aware of that, too."

"_Are you?_"

This time, Severus's tone carried more feeling behind it, along with a twinge of his ill temper that he hadn't displayed thus far. "I'm not a delinquent, Dr. Granger. I _can_ tell the difference."

"If that's the case, why would you take up with someone half your age? She's barely a woman!"

"_Dad!_"

"With all due respect, Dr. Granger, I've already explained that to you. I see no reason to beat a dead horse."

"Dad, please," Hermione implored, this time trying to illustrate more patience.

"We're having a discussion here, Hermione!"

"No, you're trying to provoke an argument."

"Hermione, it's all right," Severus tried to interject, giving her a small smile no one else saw.

"No, _it isn't_, Severus." She squeezed his hand and met her parents' abrasive stare. "Look, I've told you both enough about the war, I've painted you a general picture of what Severus has gone through, and I've explained to you both—_multiple times_—who Severus is. I understand you both want the best for me—I really do—but I'm an adult now, Dad! I can make these decisions on my own, and you're just going to have to either accept my decision or reject it; but I _won't_ sit here and let you patronize him, and I won't let Severus go through this for my sake either. We've both been through too much this past year. I don't need this from you, too, and neither does he."

Severus was speechless. His expression was guarded as he scrutinized the witch to his left, but he had barely time to read her wounded expression. Hermione shot to her feet and tugged on his hand.

"C'mon, Severus, we're leaving."

"Hermione..." he tried to caution her, remaining seated just long enough for her parents to object.

"Hermione, love, don't!" Elizabeth sprang to her feet, too, but George stayed put, staring from Severus to his daughter and back again with nothing but criticism and a miserable disposition.

"Hermione," George began through gritted teeth, interrupting his wife, "you wiped our memories, you gave them back, you tell us you've been dating a man more than half your age, who also happened to be your instructor, and you expect us to just accept this breaking news and make a toast out of it?"

He peered up at his daughter, the hurt and fury of a wrongly forsaken father decipherable all over his face. Hermione swallowed hard and stepped back.

"You mistake yourself, child. Your mother and I have been through Hell, too, and only recently on account of_ your_ actions! How dare you just get up and leave us after the magnitude of what you did! How dare you be so blatantly disrespectful by walking out on us—your parents—shortly after throwing all of this in our laps!"

"I... I'm not _trying_ to be disrespectful, Dad. I've been trying to make you understand my position."

"And we may well never understand it, Hermione! You told us only just this morning. What the hell do you expect?"

"I..."

"George, stop it! Don't push her away."

"_Push her away?_" He scrutinized his wife anew, and then pointed an accusatory finger at Hermione. "She pushed us right out of her life!"

"Dad, _please_, we've been through this—"

"And now she's gone off the deep end, falling in love with her bloody teacher! The man's only a little more than a decade younger than _me_, for Christ's sake!"

Severus's dark eyes flickered, but he said nothing. He gracefully rose from his chair and placed his glass of water on an end table, bowing to George and then to Elizabeth.

"My apologies. Excuse me."

"Wait!" Hermione called after Severus, but he was already out of the room by the time she trekked after him. "I'm coming, too!"

Severus whipped his billowing cloak around and held her back before they reached the front door. "No. Stay, Hermione. Hear your parents out. You need to fix this."

"_What?_ No, I'm coming with you!"

"Don't leave things this way. You'll regret it."

"No, I _won't_ listen to this bloody rubbish—"

"Hermione, they're entitled to have an opinion, too. Just because it doesn't match yours or mine doesn't mean you shouldn't hear them out."

"Sev—"

"Hermione, wait!" Elizabeth came rushing into the sitting room, apologizing profusely the whole way. "I'm terribly sorry, Severus. Please try to understand, this is all very shocking and new to us. Hermione's never brought a man around before, and George is," she lowered her voice, "not taking it very well."

"No, he has his reasons, Dr. Granger, and I can respect that. I don't have to agree with them, however."

"But Severus—" Hermione pleaded.

"Hermione, don't leave," came her father's additional soft plea, startling them all. He emerged from the porch with a slightly gentler countenance but held back coming any closer. "I overreacted."

"Are you quite finished?" she prodded through clenched teeth, to which Severus pinched her arm.

"For now, yes."

Hermione couldn't refrain from rolling her eyes. Severus excused himself a second time, prompting everyone to react.

"No, Severus, please stay?" Elizabeth said as kindly as she could muster.

"No, thank you, but I should leave you and Hermione to sort things out—"

"You're welcome to stay, Severus." Hermione's head spun around, and she snatched at Severus's hand encouragingly as a result of her father's newfound hospitality. "My apologies. Some of what I said was less than cordial. Do forgive me."

Severus wanted to protest, more than prepared to get the hell out of there, and fast, but seeing Hermione's hopefulness was enough to tear down his determination. Caving his shoulders, he consented with quiet reluctance. There would be no getting out of this uncomfortable situation. Not for the next few hours, anyhow.

What turned into a very late dinner turned into another surprise that Severus couldn't weasel himself out of. Severus was encouraged to stay the night, something that nearly toppled Hermione out of her chair and right onto the floor. There would, of course, be no sharing quarters with her in the guest room—that offer wasn't even on the table—but Severus was given a pull out couch in the sitting room, fresh sheets, and a surprisingly attentive Elizabeth, who fussed over seeing that he had everything he needed to "tuck in" for the night.

"Your mother's about as horrid as Mrs. Weasley," Severus griped under his breath after she and George said their formal goodnights, which sent Hermione into fits of giggles.

Severus sighed heavily and plopped down on the bed; she could tell he was exhausted and would make a point of seeing that he took his tonics tonight for sure.

"Are you really going to make me stay here?" he moped.

"Yes," Hermione smacked him on the shoulder. "And you're going to love it and continue to play nice, because it's ridiculously charming seeing you force such cordiality."

"I really_ should_ put a muffling charm on your mouth," he threatened, which only made her laugh harder. "Perhaps when you're asleep."

"Watch it, you." She leaned down to kiss him goodnight, grateful that they at least had these few minutes alone at last, and that one kiss turned into several more minutes of much-needed snogging, particularly after such a tense evening. "Thank you," she whispered tenderly against his lips, kissing him another time.

"You owe me," he hissed back.

"You're right. I do. I'll make it up to you." She pecked him long and hard on the mouth before adding, "Once we leave _here_, that is..."

* * *

Hermione and Severus stayed for two more nights, and even without him saying so out loud, Hermione knew it was the most socially awkward and debilitating seventy-two hours of Severus's life. _Poor man_, she reflected on several occasions. She couldn't have been prouder with how hard he was trying; well, for _him_.

By the third day, the tension had lessened, though it hardly disappeared. Her parents still weren't too keen on the idea of Hermione being with a much older man. Then again, another thought had entered Hermione's mind that third morning as she sat drinking coffee with her mother on the back porch.

"Would it have mattered if it was a different older man? A man who _wasn't_ Severus?"

Elizabeth eyed her daughter over with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Look, I know you and Dad don't like him, but is it really all about the age factor and that he was once my instructor, or is it actually _him?_ I know you think he's dark, brooding, mysterious... A 'bad boy,' right?"

"Well, um," Elizabeth twisted her mug in hand, thinking hard, "he's not exactly the easiest person to decipher, sweetheart. Your father and I are a bit stumped is all. It's extremely hard to figure out his intentions, or who he is, for that matter. He expresses himself very eloquently, but his face... His vacant expressions... He comes across as almost..."

"What, Mum?"

Elizabeth shot her a small, apologetic smile. "Soulless."

"_Soulless?_" Hermione burst into laughter, which seemed to relieve her mother's anxiety some.

"Well, he _does!_ How can you tell what he's feeling, Hermione? What he's thinking?"

"I've learned how, Mum. That's all there is to it."

"I would imagine you'd have to... That would drive me bonkers though, trying to figure out what your father was feeling or thinking at any given moment. It's like he purposely keeps you from knowing. Doesn't that bother you?"

"It's actually not that hard, Mum." Hermione smiled, staring off at the lush landscape just beyond her parents' house. The overcast skies were a welcome change from the bright sun that she wasn't accustomed to seeing so much of. "Actually, it's quite easy now. You're only seeing his façade; his walls are up around you guys. I imagine they'll always be that way, but maybe he'll surprise me. You'll come to read him better, I think. That's what it took for me: time. When it's just him and I, the walls come down. What _I_ see is quite different from what he shows you."

"It... It doesn't frighten you, even a little?"

Hermione snorted her coffee, wincing at burning the roof of her mouth. She gave her mother a befuddled look.

"Mum, he's really not_ that_ scary to you, is he?"

"No," she answered a little too quickly. "It's just that... Well, why on earth does he only wear black, for starters? Does he have a fetish or something?"

Hermione shrugged, still smiling. "Perhaps. I never really thought about it before."

"And that attire, Hermione... Merlin, I'll admit, it's very elegant and attractive-looking, but does he wear anything else? That's all I've seen him in since he arrived."

Hermione snickered. "Yes, Mum, he has a few other items he wears, though never out in public. Is that why he frightens you? Because he wears black?" she snickered, sending her mother into a fit of furious blushing.

"No! That's just..._strange_, dear. And his eyes... They're so dark. I've never seen eyes that dark before, Hermione. It's... Well, I'm sorry, it's just unnerving. I don't know how you can be so comfortable with him staring at you all the time; I find it fairly intimidating. It doesn't ever seem soft or gentle."

Hermione scrunched up her nose. "What?"

"_His stare._ It feels awfully intrusive, like he's..."

"Staring right through to your soul?" Hermione finished, her smile extending across her rose-colored cheeks.

Elizabeth nodded emphatically. "Yes! Exactly!"

"Oh, Mum, that's just his 'look.' Merlin, you're critical. He can't help the color of his eyes or how he glances at you. He doesn't _mean_ to 'look' intrusive."

"I - I know, dear, I'm just never sure of it, that's all. The way he stares at you, for instance, is certainly... Interesting."

Hermione was intrigued. "What do you mean?"

"Well, even when you aren't speaking, or even if you're on the opposite end of the room, I've noticed he's _always_ watching you. I'm not saying that it's creepy or anything, but it feels slightly possessive. Protective, too. The way he eyes you is very... Intense."

"Really?" Hermione paused to think it over; she had never realized that before, but she admittedly enjoyed hearing it. "Well, that's definitely one of Severus's main attributes: protectiveness. He was a spy for a long time, Mum, so I'm sure that's where a lot of it comes from. He never had anyone to look after him, and he was constantly looking over his shoulder, too, even when he was young, so I'm sure that has something to do with it, too."

After a drawn out pause in which the two women sipped their coffees in relaxation and silence, Elizabeth presented Hermione with another question, surveying her daughter thoughtfully over her mug. "What is it, Hermione?"

"Hmm? What?"

"What is it about him that you love? I... I'd like you to explain it to me. You've described how you met, how you came together, what you've both been through, but I've heard very little about how you actually _feel_ about him—outside of being able to be yourself and that he's smart like you and makes you laugh."

Hermione took considerable time to formulate that answer. It wasn't an easy one to give. When she was ready, her face bore a very different smile that made Elizabeth blink hard at its discovery. There would be no refuting the matter for her, nor her husband, now: _their daughter was in love._ Not head-over-heels in love, or the kind of attachment of a young crush that's intensely passionate before it dwindles nearly as quickly and unforgivingly can be. Hermione's smile was of a maturer affection, the kind that comes with time—_years_—that's set and concrete and unyielding.

"He makes me feel beautiful, Mum," she whispered, stuck on the words, as if in awe. "Like Dad makes you feel... It doesn't have to be intimate. We can be sitting on opposite ends of the room, and he'll look at me. It's not smoldering, it doesn't even have to be passionate or craving. The way he looks at me... He makes me _feel_ beautiful, sexy, accepted.

"I keep thinking it might go away; I actually fear sometimes when we argue that it won't come back, but it always does. I... I've never felt that way before, Mum. No guy—and we both know I haven't had a lot of experience in that department—or friend, for that matter, has ever made feel so wholly accepted. That's something I've always struggled to find: someone who will take me for _me_. Not even my best friends accept me wholeheartedly, but _Severus does._

"But that's a purely selfish answer, and that's not even the half of it. There are so many other things about him; things you wouldn't understand because you haven't seen them. I'm not sure if you ever will. Maybe, in time, you will, I'm not sure...

"Severus has this quirk where he'll pull his hair forward to cover his face when he's embarrassed or shy, and it's about the single, most ridiculously adorable thing I've ever seen. His laughter is... Merlin, it's lovely. He really doesn't laugh often enough, but when he actually lets himself go, _it's wonderful_. When he sleeps, it's about the only time I see him entirely relaxed and out of his depth, and you may think I'm crazy, but it's fascinating to watch him sleep. _He's beautiful..._ There's none of that harshness or rigidness about him that you and Dad have been talking about. It's total serenity, peacefulness... And he lets _me_ see that; that's what's so powerful about it. Severus has never let anyone see his insecurities before, or let himself be so utterly exposed from all angles, but with me, he does. He nearly lets all of the mask go. He's still a work-in-progress, I know, but he'll get there...

"I have access to nearly all of him, Mum,_ the real him._ And I consider that a privilege. I know that may sound really strange to you, but I feel lucky to know the real Severus, because I love_ that_ side to him. The true Severus Snape would be a hell of _a lot_ more tolerable and accepting if he just allowed that part of himself to shine, but he never will. He reserves that part of himself exclusively for me, and I... I rather love that, too."

By the time she was through trying to explain her strong sentiments, she was glowing and turning bright red. When she met her mother's gaze, it was surprisingly gentle—aware and understanding, even, if she dared to let herself believe it. There was also a knowing smile in place that comforted Hermione to see. She wanted to believe her mother just might be coming to terms with her choice; that seemed a little far-fetched yet, but she was smiling and that was encouraging, nonetheless.

"Do you two talk about the future much?" Elizabeth asked, continuing to eye Hermione considerately.

"Sure, we do. Actually..."

"Yes?"

"Well, I have something for you and Dad that I bought before Christmas. Severus came with me and while we were out, he sort of made a promise to me."

"A promise?" Elizabeth's eyes glimmered with curiosity.

"Well, he sort of asked me in a roundabout way if I would stay with him if he proposed to me..."

Hermione studied her mother's reaction, one of shock and then ambiguity. "Oh... Really?" she whispered, after finding her voice.

"Mum, we've been together for two years."

"Yes, I - I know, sweetheart, but... But you're still young."

"Mum, it wasn't an actual proposal—"

"But if he's planning on it—"

"_Mum, please._" Hermione calmly put down her cup on the coffee table. "I know you think I'm too young, too inexperienced, not ready... All of those things are probably true, but I know what I want. I'm sure of it. If I had the slightest misgiving, that conversation would've gone quite differently.

"My life fits with him. It just does. I know it isn't ideal or what you and Dad were hoping for, but it's _my_ life, Mum. You want the best for me, but shouldn't _I_ have some say in what's best for me, too?"

Before Elizabeth could answer, Hermione added, "There was a time I wasn't sure if Severus was 'the one,' but now... I really think he _is_. I'm sure of it, actually. I've had two whole years to figure it out. How long were you dating Dad before you realized he was the one?"

"I..." Elizabeth fell silent, her matching caramel irises searching her daughter's face. After a moment, she let out a weighty sigh and put down her own cup as well. "After about a year, probably sooner than that." She reached out and whisked a few curls off of Hermione's shoulder. "But, sweetheart, you were saying about his health the other day... That he may never be cured from those bites. What about that? Aren't you worried about planning your life out with someone who may very well _not_ be there with you in the years to come? Think about it, Hermione. Really stop and reflect on the idea..."

"Mum, _I have._ If Dad was sick while you were dating him, would you have given up on a possible future with him simply because of something he couldn't help? That was outside of his control? Would you give up on him because of that?"

"I... No, of course I wouldn't, but..."

"Then you can't expect that of me, Mum, because I wouldn't do it. It may be silly to hold out hope that we'll find a cure and Severus will miraculously get better, but it's a possibility I'm willing to bet our future on. _I want to be with him, Mum._ That's it. Our future together has a lot of loopholes and uncertainties, but doesn't everyone's? There are no guarantees that two people will live out the entire length of their lives together. We hope to, and I'm certainly going to cling to that hope, but I'm not stupid. I know what might happen; but I... I still love him, Mum. That doesn't scare me away from having whatever time with him I _can_ have..."

Elizabeth sighed dejectedly and brushed her daughter's cheek. "I suppose there's no dissuading you."

"No, Mum, there isn't."

"Well, your father and I didn't expect it to happen. I hate admitting that it does sound like you've thought this through, I just... I hope you know what you're doing, Hermione. That's all."

Hermione's smile returned. "I _do_, Mum. I promise."

"Very well..."

"Will you and Dad give him a chance? Please?"

"I'm afraid we're going to have to."

"Mum!"

The two shared a laugh together, and Elizabeth brought her daughter into a tight hug, one that was reminiscent of the kind they used to share. Hermione was happy being enclosed in her mother's warming embrace when her father suddenly emerged, and he wasn't alone. Severus came following in behind him and both men's muffled voices could be heard conversing before they entered.

Hermione and Elizabeth broke apart, eying them both curiously. Though George and Severus were at least attempting to be cordial to one another, it was nearly always in the presence of the women and never alone. Hermione searched Severus's idle expression, not sure what to make of his silence. She could only pray they weren't exchanging heated words, and Elizabeth seemed to be wondering the same.

"What were you two talking about?" her mother inquired, narrowing her eyes at her husband when he came to sit next to her.

"Just making small talk. Am I allowed, or am I still being reprimanded for the other night?"

Elizabeth slapped his arm and rolled her eyes. Hermione seized the opportunity and hopped up to take Severus by the hand. Without a word, she led him back inside the house, leaving her parents to themselves as they watched their daughter and the mysterious man disappear.

"All right, George, what were you two talking about?"

"Nothing," he assured her with a smirk. "Why are you pestering me?"

"Because just two days ago you were ready to rip the poor man's head off. I hope you behaved yourself."

"I did, Liz! Honest." The deadly glare she displayed told him she wasn't persuaded. "I decided to speak with him alone, trying to understand his position better and Hermione's as well."

"And?"

Mr. Granger regarded his wife seriously. "I think he's being sincere. It's still hard to tell, I suppose, but it sounds like he really does want to make her happy."

"Yes, well, your daughter's very much in love with this man, so you'd best behave yourself from now on."

She ceased talking, glancing at something she had caught just over his shoulder. George traced her stare to the large glass window behind them. Inside, just beyond, stood Hermione. Severus's back was turned, but they could clearly make out their daughter's lively expression. She was talking animatedly and smiling from ear to ear; a kind of simper that seemed to be reserved just for the man in question, and it made both their breaths stall.

Then Hermione leaned in to kiss him on the mouth—something neither one of them was prepared for—and Severus, in turn, scooped her up in his arms, hugging her tight to his chest. They continued to earnestly snog one another, clasping onto each other's garments, hair, or face. When their passionate lip-locking was through, the ill-appreciated, older wizard pecked their daughter's forehead a few times, which Hermione seemingly loved. She had closed her eyes and was leaning into the man's caress before he wrapped her up in another embrace.

George cleared his throat, turned away abruptly, and was met with Elizabeth's softened smile. The two stared at each other without speaking, a silent awareness falling upon them like an overcast cloud.

"I told you," Elizabeth whispered.

"Yes..."

Elizabeth weaved her hand through her husband's, and neither of them spoke again for a while, taking in the gravity of their changed lives. Their daughter was most definitely in love, and he with her. He was far from perfect, and not the sort of man they had hoped for Hermione, but there was no denying her happiness, and that was something the Grangers would have to contend with in their own time.

"Let's hope he doesn't break her heart," George sputtered to Elizabeth with a burdensome frown, his unmistakable pain evident and painted all over his face.

"Somehow I don't think we'll have to worry about that, love..."

Seeing George's apprehension and alarm at such a statement, Elizabeth nodded towards the window. Her husband reluctantly gave it a second look through and found the man he disliked, though not as severely as before, still hugging his daughter close to his chest, his head reclined against hers, the unconventional pair swaying back and forth ever so slightly, their bodies perfectly in synch with one another.

George's shoulders slumped. He turned back to his wife, his frown still in place.

"I don't like to admit it," he consented with a stubborn air, as well as a growing despondency, "but you may be right."


	59. Starting Anew

**A/N: I got caught up in the election coverage. That's the only excuse I have for my tardiness but hopefully a sufficient one.  
**

**This chapter contains some angst and then a lot of fluff. After the hell they've been through, we all deserve a little fluffiness, yes? Hope you enjoy it!  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 59: Starting Anew**

Getting back to Spinner's End took longer than expected. After leaving her parents on good terms, and with the promise of owl correspondence once she was back home safely, Hermione and Severus set off for the same Apparation path as before, only Severus was more agitated than ever, and pushed their efforts along far more aggressively than Hermione cared for, or thought necessary.

"Severus, enough!" she emphasized after several hours, grabbing him forcefully by the arm. "We've done eight or nine rounds now. We need to stop and rest."

"Don't be ridiculous," he snarled back, wrenching his arm free of her grasp. "If we keep going several more hours, we'll be nearly there."

"Severus, you _can't_ push yourself like this. You know what will happen if you do."

"Stop talking to me like I'm a bird-brained adolescent."

"I'm not! But this isn't good for you. Do you _want_ to make yourself worse?"

"I'm perfectly fine!"

Hermione bit back her tongue, but she was absolutely livid six more Apparations later. She could see him pushing himself far too hard, and he outright ignored her like a stubborn mule about taking his tonics when it came time for those as well.

Severus was finally forced to delay their progress two or three Apparations away from home. His body simply ran out of energy and couldn't withstand any more Apparation attempts. When they arrived on the outskirts of Marseille, after nearly traveling an entire day, Severus all but collapsed on the sidewalk in a dead heap.

"When are you_ ever_ going to start listening to me?" she reprimanded him quietly; she didn't have the stomach to shout at him anymore. Surveying his slouched form, heavy breathing and fluttering eyelids, she tried instead to help him to his feet, with some difficulty.

"I just want to get home," he wearily muttered, shifting his attention away from her.

Hermione sighed and found a nearby inn on the map, where they would end up spending the next several days. Apparating had apparently taken a greater toll on Severus than either of them predicted, however. By the end of the second day, Hermione had sent off an urgent Patronus message to Augustus, seeing as they were without an owl, hoping the Healer might have some solution or be able to send along a tonic or two to help combat his symptoms. Severus, curled up in bed with a pile of blankets, shivered nonstop all the while and hardly slept.

"It's a good thing this happened here and not at your parents'."

"Oh, rubbish," Hermione whispered, perched against his back, allowing him to sink his weight into her chest. She pressed a cold compress to his forehead. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Severus."

"How much did you tell them?" he managed through chattered teeth.

"Enough to give them an impression. They know what happened to you, how long you were in hospital, about your symptoms and the amount of tonics you're taking..."

"Wonderful," he growled, pinching his eyes shut amidst a low moan. "In other words, _everything_."

Hermione watched him hopelessly shiver for several more minutes. It had become her routine to be rendered useless whenever it came to Severus's poor health. Episodes were frequent enough and each time just as nerve-racking as the last.

"Your limbs still ache?" she inquired after him softly, rubbing his back as he continued to shake.

"Yes..."

"How about I run a bath for you? That might help."

"I can't move." He buried his head further into his pillows in protest.

"I can levitate you easily enough."

"No!"

It was a weak command, but it still held some bite. Hermione, however, stayed calm, well attuned to how incapacitated and humiliated her wizard was feeling, even if it was only she who saw him in such a state. He never had to spell it out for her; she could read his body language and facial expressions easily enough by now.

"Severus, really, it's just me. You_ have_ to get used to this... You _have_ to let me help you." Bending over to kiss his cheek, his head rolled back into her shoulder, but he kept his eyes shut, as if in compliance to her wishes. "I'm going to run that bath. I'll be right back, love."

A few minutes later, Hermione levitated Severus into the bathroom, where she quickly threw off his pajamas, dampened and laden with sweat, and eased him into the steaming tub to lie down. Severus almost immediately shut his eyes, curled up on his side, with the scorching hot water lapping at the aches all over his trembling, naked body. It wasn't long before he went slack and completely effaced of pain, all but falling asleep right there in the bath as Hermione looked on, every so often reheating the water with her wand.

"Is it helping?" she inquired after a while, leaning over the side to whisk a few wet hairs behind his ear.

"Mmm, yes..." he mumbled. "Thank you..."

"You're going to be a prune when you get out of here," she teased in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Severus's bloodshot eyes opened half way. "You'd best look away then." Groaning at a throttle of pain that shot up his legs, his body shook violently and went stiff, though he continued trying to speak all the while. "Or the sight may put you off sex with me for life."

"You've got to be kidding."

He chuckled once the episode passed, his voice rougher and sluggish. "It's not a pretty sight, trust me." His black eyes flickered, fighting to meet hers as she sat on the toilet seat next to the tub, eying him intently. "Care to join me?"

Hermione shot him a playful smirk. "Sneaky git."

"No?"

"Very tempting, scoundrel, but I'm supposed to _watch_ you, not indulge you."

"Says who?"

"Says Augustus."

"What?" His eyes flashed, uncertain, causing Hermione to snicker lightly and brush at his damp locks; he immediately eased into her touch, fighting the urge to sleep.

"His owl came earlier while you were sleeping. No exerting yourself—obviously—and he sent along a strong Draught of the Living Dead that should knock you out for about a day."

"A day? But... We have to get home."

"We're in no rush, Severus. I wrote to my boss; it's fine. Augustus would like to see you when we get back."

Severus groused defiantly and shut his eyes again. "Get in this bloody tub with me, would you?" He shivered a little, and Hermione instantly reheated the water. "Live a little."

Hermione couldn't help but encourage him with a sly smile, blushing at his insistence. Making the fleeting decision to accompany him, she whipped off her clothes and tossed them into a pile on the floor. Severus scooted backward to make room and Hermione curled up in front of him, sighing weightily at the wonderful warmth of the water that soaked up every inch of her from the neck down and Severus's snug embrace.

"You get your way far too often, Mister," she chimed, turning her neck to peck his nose.

"I'm sorry, is this terribly burdensome for you?" he returned, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Hermione tittered some more and placed a gentle kiss on his limp mouth. "Not in the least," she assured with a quiet smile.

The tired wizard tucked his face into the nape of Hermione's neck. Soon enough, Severus was dozing in the bath, snoring rather loudly for lack of sleep the past several days; but Hermione lay awake, feeling his even breaths expanding and contracting against her back. A mere doze turned into two or three hours of peaceful alone time with her thoughts, as well as the intertwine of her wizard hugging her close as he dozed.

Finally, Hermione willed herself to move out of the bath that she had warmed more than a handful of times and helped Severus back into bed, where she administered his Draught of the Living Dead. Severus instantly succumbed to sleep again, griping a little before passing out, for the next twenty-four hours, hardly ever moving from his fetal position beneath the covers, his hair swept across his face to mask every harsh feature but his protruding nose.

_What if this really will be the rest of our lives?_ her mind considered more than once as she looked after Severus during his rest and recoup. She quickly shook off her worries as she intently stared at him, brushing the straggly hairs away from his eyes or stroking his cheek with the back of her hand. _If it is, we'll make the most of it. Severus will be fine. He _has_ to be fine..._

* * *

Hermione hadn't even realized until the following day that Severus had slept right through the New Year, and Hermione had been too preoccupied with him to even think on what day it was. January 1, 1999.

_Another year..._

It was only a matter of months before the first anniversary of the end of the Second War, which was hard to fathom for either of them. It had only recently been announced in _The Daily Prophet_ right before the holidays that a memorial statue would be erected to commemorate all those in the Order who fought in the final battle, the living on the one side and the lives of those who were lost on the other. Hermione hadn't heard much more about it in the interim. Harry was supposedly one of the members working on the details, along with Headmistress McGonagall, Kingsley, and a few others.

_Severus would surely be included, wouldn't he?_

Upon their return, whenever Hermione brought it up, Severus immediately withdrew and made excuses for going to the lab or off to read. Hermione knew why. Not only did the wizard not expect to be included, but he probably didn't_ want_ to be. Any time over the next week of being home that Hermione risked breaching the touchy topic, it turned out for naught. Severus clammed up or simply walked away.

Hermione quickly decided to focus on other matters that, to her, were equally important. Severus's birthday was coming up, and, though she suspected he probably thought she had forgotten all about it, she was determined to make it as special as he had made hers. The problem was she was actually stumped with what to buy, and she wasn't about to ask him outright, no matter how much the difficult wizard detested surprises.

"Well, he's a big reader like you," Luna offered one afternoon over a coffee during their lunch breaks. Luna had, again, joined Harry and Hermione at the Ministry for a light catch-up conversation. "Perhaps you could get him that new Potions text by—"

"Briar Scroggs?" Hermione shook her head. "Already has a copy; said it was a bunch of 'haughty hogwash' and that the man 'doesn't know his basic ingredients from his shriveled up, old arse.'"

Harry snorted on his coffee, cursing at burning his tongue, but Luna cocked her head without reaction, her dreamy blue eyes regarding Hermione as seriously as could be described for the strange witch. "Really? I thought his bit on how to combat the Dugbogs' eating on the Mandrake root with that new fertilizer potion was quite effective. My father tried it out and has had tremendous success."

Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? I'll have to tell Severus. You've read it then?"

"Yes, and I found it immensely instructive."

"Oh, dear..." Harry murmured under his breath, hoping it was only Hermione that caught his remark.

"I haven't read it yet. I have a feeling Severus may have already tossed it before I could get my hands on it."

"Don't they have some sort of rivalry, those two?" Luna casually inserted, taking a brief moment to sip her tea.

That was news to Hermione. "I - I'm not sure, maybe? I haven't asked. He's given Severus a hard time in his editorials in _Potions Weekly_, trying to put his name as a Potions-maker into disrepute. The man really needn't bother. Severus's name is already tarnished."

"Beyond repair?"

"Perhaps..." Hermione's mouth drooped into a glum frown. "I hope not."

"Well, you could always go away somewhere for the weekend, couldn't you?" Luna suggested, either ignoring or completely unaware of Hermione's downtrodden demeanor; Hermione and Harry suspected the latter. "Although, I'm not sure Neville would like that unless it was some foreign greenhouse. Perhaps Snape's more open to being away than Neville is."

"Yes and no. He prefers the comforts of home, but a weekend away might not be such a bad idea. I'll have to think of where he might like to go..."

Harry sipped his coffee and placed his chin in his hand, entirely bored with their chatty conversation. "What about the Cotswolds?" he piped in, causing them both to blink in his direction.

"What?"

"Didn't you say he seemed to rather enjoy your shopping trip before Christmas?"

"He despises shopping, Harry," Hermione corrected him with a shrill of giggles. "Although, you're right... He did express to me that he liked the area, probably more than I thought at the time." Her caramel irises lit up and her frown flipped into an upbeat smile. "That's a brilliant idea, Harry! Thanks!"

"Sure thing. Now can we _please_ talk about something else besides shopping for birthday presents? Preferably _before_ I have to go back to work in ten minutes?"

The girls laughed unanimously and agreed, though the conversation turned to a sensitive topic Hermione really didn't want to tread on: Ron. When Luna, nonchalant, asked after the temperamental ginger, Hermione all but wanted to scoot out of her chair and walk away. Apparently, he was still struggling more than anyone else in the Aurors program and wasn't at all happy these days.

"He's miserable, as a matter of fact," Harry explained, his green eyes darkening; Hermione thought she detected a mixture of anger and resentment behind the man's glasses. "I can't stand to be around him right now, to be honest. He's snapping at every whim. Ginny doesn't know how lucky she is to be back at school where she can avoid his moping and whining. I'm half tempted to start looking for my own flat. I love Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and George, Percy and the rest of them are great, but Ron's working my last nerve. It's like when we were on the run looking for Horcruxes. Every two minutes he's turning around and picking a row."

Hermione didn't like the sound of that at all. Try as she might, she _did_ feel a little bad for the guy. The poor chap had gone so far off the deep end that he was isolating himself from everyone, including Harry, his closest friend.

The conversation ended on that sour note, and Hermione trailed back to the Department of Magical Creatures with lingering trepidations—and worry—for Ron in her mind. Should she reach out to him one last time in the hopes of possibly repairing their broken friendship?

_Or will he just bite my head off like all the times before?_

* * *

"I hope you don't have plans tomorrow."

"Plans?"

Severus glanced up from his latest venture in finding a new combination for one of his tonics. The cauldron was already simmering, and as the Potions Master sliced herbs in perfectly equal cuts at his work bench, Hermione approached him and leaned against the table, eying him eagerly.

"Tomorrow's your birthday, you know."

Severus's face slumped. "Lucky me," he droned, a bit ruffled that the bright witch remembered the date; he would be perfectly fine to pass by his birthday without mention, but it seemed Hermione had other ideas in mind. "Do I need the reminder?" he hissed, throwing the herbs into the potion with more flair than he had meant.

"Oh, please, don't be so dramatic. You're not dying. You're turning thirty-nine, you old sod."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "'Is all'? And how old are _you?_"

Hermione reached across the small, wooden table and pinched one of his cheeks, earning an appropriate growl of annoyance for her efforts; that only made Hermione laugh harder, seeing him blush endearingly and quickly return to his work without a fleeting word to cut her down. He attempted to keep slicing, but Hermione's unwavering stare was proving an unnerving distraction, as was the all-knowing smile she wore.

Severus finally slammed down his knife and caved his shoulders, defeated. "All right, what is it? What am I to endure tomorrow on _your_ behalf?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Hermione skipped around the table and drew onto her tip toes for a long, drawn out kiss, pulling away to find Severus just as befuddled as before. She snickered and rubbed her thumb along his moistened, bottom lip.

"Be ready to leave early tomorrow."

"What?"

"Just do as I say, silly."

Severus's eyes gleamed down at her. "I'm always up early, so that isn't a problem."

"Good!"

"Hermione, please tell me what's—"

"Oh, no you don't. It's a surprise."

Severus angled his neck until their noses practically touched. "I don't like surprises."

"I know," she giggled wholeheartedly, unreactive to his eminent threat. "Which is all the more reason for it."

"Insufferable."

"Snarky sod." She gingerly reached her arms up his chest and folded them loosely around his neck. "How did you celebrate past birthdays?" She was almost afraid to ask, suspecting his special day was probably lonesome and dreadful, without much thought or company, but curiosity got the better of her.

Severus wrapped his arms around the curve of her back before answering, in a solemn voice, "I didn't celebrate. And it's just as well. You reach a certain age in which birthdays aren't worth noting anymore."

"Rubbish," she pouted, unable to help herself. She extended onto her toes again for another heartfelt kiss. "Not anymore," she whispered, her supple lips gently pressing his. "We're going to celebrate it properly from now on."

"Hermione—"

"Whether you like it or not."

"Don't _I_ get a say in the matter?"

"No."

"It is _my_ birthday, after all."

"And I don't intend to let you forget it."

Severus sighed, aggrieved. "Can I ask you one thing?"

"Depends." She shot him a sly, lively grin that _almost_ brought a smile of his own to the surface.

"It isn't... It's not anything over-the-top, is it?"

Hermione caught the nervous twitch beneath his quiet reserve; it was subtle, yet captivating. She placed her hands on his shoulders and stared deep into his eyes.

"No, I promise, it's nothing too overdone."

That seemed to alleviate some of the man's lingering apprehensions. "All right..." he breathed some relief.

Hermione had never seen anyone so set against having any sort of celebration before that it nearly rattled her senses. "And it'll just be you and me," she added as another measure of certitude. That fact also appeared to aid his face in de-stressing.

"All right, then."

"You sure?" Hermione reared back. He still looked put out for some unknown reason, even with the tension having lifted.

"Yes, it - it's fine."

"Wow, you really don't like surprises at all, do you?"

"No," he grumbled, causing her to laugh softly, "and I really wish you'd tell me what the bloody hell's going on."

"Nice try, you. Moping won't get you my secret."

Ignoring his deep growl of a retort, Hermione gave him another quick kiss and filed out of the room. _I hope he doesn't think this all a bit much?_ Hermione considered as she climbed the stairs. _What were the nerves all about?_

* * *

Severus was already up and in the shower by the time Hermione crawled out of bed and set about getting ready that Saturday morning. She had arranged a rather extravagant place to stay for the evening, along with a quiet birthday dinner, suspecting anything beyond would be pushing the private wizard's stiff comfort level; she hoped that Severus would be pleased with the place she had in mind. She had done more than enough research on the Cotswolds over the past week and suspected Severus had probably never set foot in the place she would be taking them to, and that greatly excited her.

When they Disapparated to a part of the Cotswolds—South Gloucestershire, more specifically—a yard or so away from the entrance to a vast estate, Hermione turned to soak in Severus's reaction to their location. The grounds were covered in snow and the weather was quite nippy, but Hermione was preoccupied with seeing how Severus took to her birthday surprise and ignored the cold altogether.

A magnificent, yellow, stone structure—a Tudor-style castle—loomed in the distance with several triangular windows and corner towers, its rooftops blanketed by white sheets of snow. Severus's black irises stared at the place for nearly half a minute, soaking it in with silent consideration.

"What do you think?" Hermione found herself anxiously inquiring, searching his features for any signs of disappointment.

"So far, so good," he returned with an understated smirk; to Hermione, it was all the encouragement she had been hoping to garner.

The unconventional couple trod to the front entrance and waltzed inside, their boots wet to their ankles, along with the bottom of Severus's trailing cloak. They were instantly greeted by a Muggle manager and several cordial staff members. Their curious eyes scanned Severus up and down repeatedly with interest, much to Hermione's personal amusement; to them, he had to resemble something straight out of an Edwardian novel. She did her best not to laugh at their highly curious expressions, particularly the female staff members. After all, this wasn't a wizarding accommodation they were spending the night in.

Hermione and Severus received a quick tour of the castle before being led to the North Wing, where they climbed a spiral staircase to the room Hermione had booked for the weekend. Known as the Howard Deluxe, Hermione was more than pleased with the result that met her eyes, ecstatic to find the same satisfied impression from Severus as well.

It was just as had been described to her: a four-poster bedchamber carved in the Tudor style sat against a stone wall, overlooking an inner courtyard on the opposite end. An ornate plaster ceiling and mixture of red and golden furnishings, including several Tudor-style rugs, gave the place a regal air, yet cozy and intimate. It boasted two fireplaces, one of which, also opposite the bed, was currently burning and penetrating the room with a toasty warmth that made one drowsy if idling too long.

Hermione felt right at home and could tell Severus was, too, once their tour guide took her leave. "Impressive," he offered. At first, Hermione wasn't sure, until she detected the glimmer behind his dark eyes that told her he was_ more_ than inspired by her plans. "Thornbury Castle. You certainly outdid me on _your_ birthday..."

"Oh, bollocks!" Hermione stalked away from the beautiful view to stand next to Severus by the bed, weaving her arms possessively around his waist. "I wasn't aware we were comparing notes."

"Well, _I_ am."

"Well, you shouldn't. I _wanted_ to do this for you."

"It isn't fair that you already had an advantage over me."

"And what is that exactly?"

"You already knew when my birthday was."

Hermione's head fell back, herself erupting into laughter. "All right, fair enough, I did know; but you did pretty good thinking on the fly, Mister."

"Oh?" Severus eyed her hopefully, which only made her shake her head with a warm smile. "Did I?"

"_Yes._ You did wonderfully."

"I'm not quite sure it tops this, I'm afraid."

Hermione was quite elated to hear it. Her smile spread even wider, her cheeks glowing red against the comforting heat trickling into the room from the burning logs; but it wasn't really the logs at all. It was him.

"Happy birthday, love," she stated quietly, willingly allowing Severus to slip his tongue into her mouth in a display of his appreciation.

"Thank you," he returned her good wishes in a low murmur.

"You like it?" She eyed him with a hopefulness of her own this time, and he cracked a smile in response, taking her chin in his hand.

"I do, very much. What gave you the idea?"

"Christmas shopping," Hermione chose to disclose that bit carefully, knowing the mention of Harry's name would probably ruin the moment completely.

Severus's befuddled eyebrows came together. "Christmas shopping?"

"Yes. You mentioned that you liked the Cotswolds. Remember?"

"You remembered that?"

"Of course I did, you silly sod!" she giggled, reaching up for another short, but warm, kiss. "You seriously don't think I pay attention to anything you say, do you?"

"No, I just..."

"What?"

Severus's hair fell forward, his pallid cheeks gaining some unnatural color. "I'm just surprised is all. My apologies." His thumb brushed her chin lightly, his eyes surveying hers with a thoughtfulness and regard that took her breath away. "Thank you... No one's ever done something like this for me before. It... It's probably the most generous thing I've ever received..."

_That_ delicate statement, framed so carefully, made Hermione's heart sink a ways, but she didn't showcase her heartache. "It hasn't even started yet, Severus," she tried to gently prod him with an affectionate smile, but her voice still caught at the back of her throat.

"That doesn't matter. It's still far more than what I... I'm accustomed to."

Hermione felt the lump in her throat expanding but tried to suppress it. Her hands glided up his coat to frame his face, her nose brushing his with a sweet nudge.

"I understand," she breathed, her tone as soothing as she could make it, "but I intend to change that for the better, all right?"

Slowly, Severus nodded his consent, keeping mum all the while, and his vulnerable gaze was nearly enough to shatter Hermione's resolve not to have a moment. Leaning against him, she encouraged him quietly to wrap his arms around her, which he did, and brought him into another drawn out, passionate kiss.

"Well," she managed, breathless and excited, her hand rubbing his cheek, "what would you like to do? I have dinner reservations for us later on, but other than that, this day is entirely yours."

The dancing flames caught a flicker in Severus's obsidian eyes that did not go unnoticed by her. "Really?" He seemed shocked that she would put him in control of his day. It was just the sort of thing she figured he would secretly appreciate, and she was right, judging by his understated response.

"_Really._"

With that, Severus picked her up and, in one fell swoop, eased her onto the bed, towering over her with his hair draped all around his ashen face. Hermione suppressed her laughs and drew him into several more minutes of blissful snogging, without coming up for air. Finally, their swollen lips parted, and Hermione reached up to curl his loose hairs behind his ears.

"You don't waste anytime do you?"

"My day, my rules," he challenged through a rumbling, low growl.

"But of course." Hermione paused, giving him her serious, loving regard this time. "Thank you for being born," she professed unexpectedly, catching the whiff of shock that surfaced behind the wizard's eyes.

Severus froze, his mouth incapable of forming any sort of reply. Hermione waited another moment and then brushed his cheekbones with her thumbs, offering in an close whisper, "It's all right, Severus. I'm grateful that you're here, with me, and I just want you to know it."

Severus was still bereft of speech, so Hermione inclined her neck to peck the tip of his hooked nose, then the dip in his lips, then his heated mouth itself. Severus, in the interim, had wrapped his arms beneath her, pressing his weight slightly into her in an all-consuming embrace that illustrated his response to her innocent remarks of goodwill. It was a hug of the deepest gratitude, speaking for the reserved man who was, for the time being, rendered speechless; Hermione understood and kissed him back with tenderness, her mouth sweeping across his face, letting him know just how much she meant what she said.

"Thank you," he managed to express after several minutes had passed. "No one's ever told me that before..."

Suddenly, Severus found the simple act of looking into Hermione's open, accepting gaze difficult, and the young, smitten witch couldn't make sense of it until she eyed him more closely. There were actual tears forming in his eyes, and he was suppressing them by clamping up his entire face. His long eyelashes fluttered, his mouth was shut tight, and his nostrils were flaring, a muscle in his cheek twitching every so often to keep his emotions in check.

"Well, you _should_ hear it," Hermione found herself responding, cradling his face between her palms. "You should have heard it far more often than you ever did. It was cruel that they didn't tell you so. I'm glad that you were born, Severus... Please know that. _I'm so glad that you're here with me_."

With that, Hermione carefully eased Severus onto his back and rolled over top of him, surprised when he allowed it, following her lead without so much as a grunt. He stared up at the woman he loved anew, speechless and in awe. He wanted to thank her, to express how much her wanting him to be around—to be alive—meant to such a miserable, lonely louse as he, but it wasn't his forte. If he did, he would risk his voice breaking, and that wasn't something Severus Snape _ever_ did.

So, instead, he and Hermione made love, and Severus made sure to let her know with several rounds how much she meant to him, and how grateful he was that she wanted _him_. He could only pray that this wouldn't be the last time he heard such a profound declaration of love.

_Because tonight could change everything_, he considered before becoming lost in their heated passion entirely.

* * *

Severus fumbled through dinner, unlike his normally suave, graceful self. Hermione wasn't sure _what_ exactly the problem was; all she could tell was that he was agitated. Did he fear she was going to have the kitchen staff sing him a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday" or hire the chef to roll in a sparkling cake for him for everyone to see?

_Is he really _that_ afraid I'm going to pull something on him?_

Hermione willed herself not to fuss or draw attention to his abnormal antics, but it was difficult with Severus constantly darting his eyes every which way about the room, toying with his napkin in his lap, adjusting his cravat more than was necessary, or running his elongated fingers through his hair too many times to count. At first, Hermione feared he might be on the verge of having an episode, but Severus stomped that worry out of her mind fast. He was acting strange, yes, but his temperament wasn't flaring or out of sorts. He was, however, starting to break out in a sweat by the time their dinners emerged from the bustling kitchen.

Hermione thought the atmosphere near perfect. They had ordered their food in a luxurious half library, half lounge, where they enjoyed a glass of wine before being escorted into one of the main dining rooms. Tudor decor was everywhere with colorful portraits or tapestries lining the stone walls; the place felt otherworldly in many respects, and Hermione thought Severus, at least, fit the part to the nines. More than one waiter made a point of telling him so, much to Hermione's inner amusement, not his. Severus just scowled his confusion and attempted a very brusque bit of cordiality, but that was all any of the friendly staff would receive.

"You haven't said much," Hermione offered up after nearly half of their meal had been consumed in silence.

"What?" Severus blinked towards her.

"Why are you so quiet?" Severus pulled at his cravat again but said nothing, causing Hermione to finally put down her fork and eye him critically. "Is something wrong?"

"I— What? No."

"Oh... Well, then, what is it?"

"What is _what?_"

"Severus, why are you so nervous? I swear to you, I have nothing else up my sleeve! You can relax."

"Oh, I... Yes, all right."

Severus dug into his meal, chopping down on his sirloin steak in a less than mannerly fashion. Normally, as Hermione so often observed, Severus was a dainty, almost obsessive-compulsive eater, taking quiet, small bites, tediously chewing every single bite until it was entirely disintegrated in his mouth. Tonight, however, he was doing nothing of the sort. He had already doused three glasses of wine to her first, and that nervous twitch of his wasn't going away, despite Hermione telling him that he could relax; if anything, it was getting worse.

After several more minutes of watching the poor man struggling to merely get his food down, Hermione reached across the linen table cloth to take his hand. "You _are_ having a good time, aren't you?"

Severus halted mid-bite and stared at her poised silhouette—her tamed curls held back in a half ponytail with the remainder tumbling effortlessly about her shoulders. His expression was blank and, to Hermione, unusually trying to decipher.

"Of course I am, Hermione."

"You don't look like it..."

Severus gave a short chuckle, which in and of itself sounded tense and not of his normal robust laughter. It wasn't reassuring either, and her relaxed face transformed into a concerned frown and tapered eyebrows.

"Was it something earlier?"

Hermione was damn afraid of his answer to _that_. They had spent virtually the entire morning and early afternoon in bed with their incessant lovemaking, only taking time out to order afternoon tea, which they scrounged through in bathrobes, not even paying mind to the crumbs that formed all over the bed. They then turned in for a short nap before getting ready for dinner. Severus had acted completely fine throughout the day, up until that evening, and Hermione now couldn't help but wonder if it had something do with that, or worse, something _she_ had done poorly but wasn't aware of.

"What?" This time, the smile Severus wore was much more his own. He eyed her humorously, his expression appropriately dark and seductive. "Of course not, Hermione. Why on earth would you even concern yourself with that?"

"Well, you're acting awfully weird... This is _your_ day. I want to make sure you're enjoying it." She paused, her worry heightening. "Is it all too much?"

"Too much?"

"I know you're not into big, extravagant affairs but—"

"Hermione, _enough_." He squeezed her hand, and, as a token of his appreciation, bowed his head and brought her hand to his lips to run them over her dainty knuckles. "I'm grateful for this. It's a lot, yes, but it... It's quite pleasant."

There was an element of wonderment to how Severus framed that remark that struck Hermione down. She couldn't imagine not celebrating her birthday with the ones she loved. The man probably hadn't had anyone to so much as wish him a happy birthday in years, and that upsetting thought alone devastated her.

"I suspect you aren't used to this," she put it as delicately as possible, knowing the possibility of Severus recoiling on account of humiliation wasn't ever too far away.

"No, I'm not."

"When was the last time you celebrated your birthday? _Truly_ celebrated?"

Severus's features grew gentler, but his eyes were rather listless, a small alteration that no one would notice but her. "My first year at Hogwarts. Lily retrieved me from the Slytherin common room and took me to a part of the castle where we wouldn't be disturbed. It was a Sunday morning, I remember, for whatever reason, and she had had the house-elves whip up a small cake for me—candles and sparklers and everything. It was quite...kind. She was the only one who ever put forth the effort, really. Some years my mother did, too, but mostly she was so far deep in her own depression to take notice. And my father... Well, it goes without saying the only gift he ever gave me was the back of his hand, and the occasional reminder that he wished I'd never been born."

Hermione was now folding both of her hands over his, hanging onto every word with growing despair. "What about the following year?"

Severus, reflective and calm, fluttered his eyelashes. "Pardon?"

"At Hogwarts? Why only your first year?"

"Lily forgot the following year, but she gave me a belated birthday card, and two more up until our friendship ended; but she never took time aside like she had that first year to celebrate it with me." Severus's face slumped slightly, his hair falling in a curtain around him. "I always hoped she'd remember or come and fetch me again, but it was a ridiculous, simpleminded fantasy of mine that I should have gotten over a lot sooner than I did."

_No, she_ should _have done that for you!_ Hermione wanted to cry out and only refrained by biting down hard on her lip. _You were supposed to be her 'best friend'!_ Hermione's eyes fell. _No wonder Severus thinks he was an embarrassment to her; because he's probably right..._

"Doesn't the staff know?" she pressed, in the hopes that all wasn't lost for the poor man who so often hung in the shadows.

Severus gave her a haughty sort of smirk. "Yes, indeed; Dumbledore's doing no less. In the beginning, they tried to surprise me because they knew how much I'd despise it, but that all stopped relatively quickly when they realized how much more enjoyment they were getting out of the affair than me. To me, the three years it occurred weren't a celebration, so none of them count. They were Hell."

"Oh, Severus..."

"What? It's fine."

"Yes, well, _even so_, I'd like you to get acquainted with celebrating it from now on, understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he teased, taking a more relaxed sip of his wine.

"I'm serious, Severus!"

"I know you are, believe me."

"Yes, well, get used to it."

Hermione held up her glass to toast their night, a small gesture Severus approved and met. Eying one another over their mostly consumed glasses of wine, Hermione could still detect some form of unsettledness. By the end of their meal, it was literally driving her batty, but she waited until they were back in the toasty confinements of their room before addressing her concerns.

Hermione disappeared into the loo momentarily to spruce herself up, with every intention of making this birthday evening more of a memorable one than the start, and when she returned to the room, she found Severus hunched over the four-poster bed. He gazed at her intently when she reemerged, and Hermione was about to make some flirty tease about the man already being excited to hop back into bed when his odd behavior stopped her.

"Um, would you like to sit?" he encouraged her with an awkward patting towards the empty spot next to him.

"Oh! Erm, all right..."

Hermione collapsed onto the duvet, expecting him to say something, but he only twiddled his long fingers, never making much eye contact. _What the devil is going on?_ He grunted several times, glanced her way, then would turn away just as abruptly.

Hermione had had enough; she touched his shoulder, more than a little troubled by this point. "Severus, what is it? What's going on?"

"I..."

"Look, whatever it is, you_ do_ know you can talk to me, right?"

"I... Yes. Yes, of course."

"So, what's wrong?"

Waiting on Severus to speak was killing her. Either he was truly going crazy on her or he was agitated over something that had gone on earlier that day.

Sighing, she momentarily looked away to remove the clasp in her hair. The curls that had been swept back tumbled down around her shoulders, framing her peaked cheeks beautifully. They weren't frizzy or out of sorts but much more controlled, something Hermione had attained a greater hand at over the last year with plenty of patience and practice.

When Hermione angled her head to address Severus again, he was no longer seated beside her. She hadn't even felt the bed move, but somehow—silent and agile as a cat—Severus had risen, only to kneel down in front of her, his nerves seeping through his tight mask of control. His black eyes wavered as they peered up into hers, laden with uncertainty.

At first, Hermione had absolutely no idea what he was doing. "Severus," she started, her eyes narrowing at him, "are you all right? What are you..."

But then Severus reached into his coat pocket and extracted a small black box. He held it out in front of her, though his hands were actually shaking, and made an audible noise as he carefully opened the lid to reveal a silver, square-cut diamond ring that made Hermione's breathing stop. She threw a hand over her gaping mouth, and, in that moment, all her previous reservations fell away.

"Hermione," she vaguely heard the kneeling man speaking to her, her eyes slowly trailing the gorgeous ring to the raven irises that drew her into their reflection, showcasing her stunned response.

She knew this would eventually be coming, but _now?_

"I - I know I'm no great prize, but you've somehow miraculously seen through all that." Severus's voice was completely unlike himself—unsteady, edgy, threatening to give way under his inner flagellating self doubts at any given second—but Hermione listened as intently as possible, entirely swept up in the moment. "I - I know I'm hardly worthy of your affections, or your compassion, or your love, but I - I intend to make that up to you as much as I am able.

"I know we've discussed this before, but I wanted to do this properly. For you. I'm asking an awful lot of you, I know, but... But I - I'd be honored to make you happy. I'd welcome the opportunity to do right by you—"

"Severus..."

"—for the rest of our lives. I... I love you, Hermione." He blurted the words out rather than declare them with any sort of bravado, but it was just that rare glimpse of his buried insecurities that made the declaration all the more compelling, and captivating. "You've given me purpose again. I can't thank you enough for that. I love you very much, and I... I'd love for you to... To be mine if... If you still would?"

"Severus..."

The wizard paused, taking in her breathless reaction, before mustering the courage from somewhere deep inside, though he looked more angst-ridden than ever, as if he were about to release his meal all over the front of her dress. "Hermione," he drawled very quietly, "would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

The response that followed wasn't exactly what Severus anticipated, and he actually rattled and jerked when Hermione flung forward from the bed, all but screaming out a resilient, "YES! _YES!_ OF COURSE!" and catapulted into his arms, knocking them both backward.

If Severus wasn't so caught off balance, he surely might have cursed or sputtered something snide, but instead he focused on, first, keeping them from crashing to the floor, and, once the shock was over, swaddling Hermione appropriately in his arms, just as she tightened her embrace around his neck. Her face was buried in all of his limp, soft hair. He echoed an enormous sigh of relief at her answer and that rare smile that seemed to be reserved exclusively for her flew to the surface.

"_Yes_, Severus," Hermione stated just as emphatically as before against his ear, once she caught her breath; they tickled his skin ever so gently. "_Yes, I'd love to marry you!_"

Straddling his lap, Hermione grazed his cheek, the dip in his nose, and his mouth with her lips, savoring his returned response that was both eager and amorous, both delicate and abnormally sweet. Finally, Severus pulled their lips apart, breathing heavily.

"It... It's not too soon?"

"What? _No, of course not!_"

"You're sure?"

"Damn it, Severus, I've said yes to you twice now! Would you please _not_ kill the moment by way of disbelief?"

They both chuckled, the tension easing with Hermione's fired-up response. Severus brought his hand around to present her with the box a second time. He took the ring from its perch and slipped the sparkling diamond onto her fourth finger, giving the new bride-to-be her proper due to inspect and gawk appropriately.

It was unfailingly beautiful, if not entirely unexpected. Hermione wasn't even sure what kind of ring she would have liked, but_ this_ was more than sufficient. Antique-looking with a silver band, a one carat princess-cut diamond, and several full-cut diamonds along the side, Hermione realized Severus had struck the perfect balance. It was exactly what she would have wished for: the right mixture of shimmer and sophistication without being gaudy or overdone.

It had to have cost a fortune, which dampened Hermione's enthusiasm a little. She could only imagine what Severus must have scourged out of his savings to pay for such a jewel and was half tempted to ask before thinking better of it; she had no interest in humiliating the man. After all, this was the most exquisite gift she had ever received in all her life, aside from the wizard himself...

"Do you like it?" she heard him ask, and when her twinkling eyes met his, she found hints of that worry and anxiety resurfacing. "I... I wasn't sure what you'd want, so I went with my instinct."

_Your_ brilliant _instinct_, Hermione wanted to say, grinning from ear to ear.

"It's gorgeous, Severus."

"But if it's not you..."

"Severus, no, _I love it!_"

The glowing smile that lit up her entire face, which had nothing to do with the heat trickling towards them from the fireplace a few feet away, put Severus's reservations to rest; his shoulders relaxed and he breathed another sigh of alleviation.

"It's magnificent!" Hermione's smile turned mischievous in a flash. "You have_ exceedingly_ good taste, Mister. Thank Merlin," to which he laughed.

"I'm glad it suits you."

"_Suits me?_" She extended her hand outward, and the ring flickered brightly against the firelight; she was clearly mesmerized, and that heartened the dark wizard observing quietly, taking in her thrilling response. "You'll have to bury me in this, because it's never coming off!"

Severus now wore a much more confident smirk. "I'm here, too, you know."

Hermione snickered and kissed him slowly, with a tender appreciation he understood. "And you're just as good a catch," she beamed against his mouth, shivering at his soft chuckling. "Thank you so, so much."

"_Thank you_ for saying yes..."

After snogging him a few more times, Hermione brought her forehead to his, contented and not at all cooled down after his shocking proposal. "I can't believe it... This was supposed to be a surprise weekend for _you!_"

"I know. You set the scene for me, my dear, which I appreciate; saved me a headache of scouting for a location."

"Git."

"Well, in all fairness, you just gave me the greatest birthday present a man could want." Severus's features turned somber and reserved again, the glimmer in his eyes replaced by something far more serious. "I... I _am_ asking an awful lot of you, Hermione."

"Severus, no..."

"Please don't think I don't understand the gravity of what your agreement means—"

"Enough." Hermione pressed a hand to his mouth, her eyes boring deep into his. "You _know_ how I feel about you, about us." She pecked the bridge of his nose, nuzzling it gently with her own before removing her hand to bring him into her fold. "_Thank you, love._ You've made me so happy. _So very happy._"

Severus's thoughtful eyes, dark and mysterious as ever, studied his future wife for a lengthy pause. Then his elegant fingertips graced over one side of her face.

"You make me happier," he confessed, his words lingering in the atmosphere for some time. "You make me want to live. _So much._"

That was all Hermione needed to hear, for her emotions, caught up in the past several minutes of delight, tipped over the brim at last. Previously unshed tears flowed freely down her blushed cheeks, and her lower lip proceeded to quiver. Her mouth earnestly met his again, kissing him senseless for longer than either of them had any recollection of.

Somehow, Severus had ended up sprawled on his back with Hermione hovering over him, slipping her tongue in and out of his mouth as if she were savoring something delectable. Time was at a standstill, locked only for them.

Once Hermione was under some level of composure, she breathlessly thanked him again, as did he, and the two returned to the sanctuary of their bed, where they properly undressed and made love several times into the morning. Hermione wouldn't have had it any other way. She felt fulfilled and comfortably spent, her weepy form curled up against Severus's chest by the time they were through.

With their worn bodies aching for sleep, Severus was out within minutes, one arm draped over Hermione's hip as he snored softly in her ear; but Hermione was still too wrapped up in bliss for rest just yet. She stared, enthralled, at the dainty ring on her finger. When most young women her age would have carried a list of trepidations and reconsiderations over such a mighty decision, Hermione felt only a sense of fulfillment, one that had to do with her heart, not her warm-infested, humming body at the moment. And she couldn't have been happier if she had taken a tonic for such an exhilarated feeling of completion. Eventually, Hermione was lulled to sleep, encased in the warmth of her lover's—_fiance's_—arms and gentle breathing, the trace of a smile curled across her face.

* * *

**A/N #2: Yeah, I know. Very fluffy, but it _had_ to be done. I've written another one-shot, _Unquestionable Love: As Time Goes By_, that ties in relatively well with this chapter. Link is on my Profile page if you want to have a read. **


	60. Breaking the Past, Molding the Future

**A/N: There's a bit of everything in this one, including a less than pleasant flashback, though it's necessary. **

**Thanks to all you incredibly patient, awesome readers that continue to support, favorite, and/or review this story. I'm really just floored, and I appreciate it an awful lot! :)**

**Nine more chapters and an epilogue remain, so on we go...  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 60: Breaking the Past, Molding the Future**

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Did you ask my father?"

"Of course I did, Hermione."

A delicate pause later, and Hermione reluctantly inquired, "And how did that go over?"

"He wasn't pleased, if that's what you're trying to figure out."

"I would've thought he'd have flown off the handle, if we're being quite honest?"

"I put it to him in a roundabout fashion, if you _must_ know, but he was livid, nevertheless."

Hermione's worried frown deepened. Peering down at the empty parchment before her, Hermione drew her quill away. "In that case," she mumbled, "I'm not so sure how to break this to them..."

"There's no easy way to do so, my dear."

Severus was certainly right on _that _score, which did nothing but upset her. And why shouldn't it? She was happy. Ecstatic, as a matter of fact. This was supposed to be one of the most exhilarating times of her young adult life, and yet, she had to find a way to tone it down, and for her parents, who, second to Severus, loved her most.

"Care to help?" she asked, her eyebrows high on her forehead.

Severus shot her a defiant sneer of "Absolutely not," and stalked off down to his laboratory, leaving Hermione to snigger after him as he left in a fury of billowing, black robes.

Telling her parents and, more importantly, waiting on their reply was going to be monstrous. She could literally feel her dad cringing at reading her owl, twisting the parchment furiously in his hands, and her mum rereading her words fastidiously in an absolute panic. Why couldn't they just be happy for her? She hadn't even written her letter yet and already she was imagining their unfavorable reactions.

_Hermione, they learned about Severus only recently_, she reminded herself, sighing and scribbling off a quick owl she suspected she might regret. It was short and to the point but conveyed her happiness all the same.

Hermione knew she couldn't be too glum over spilt milk. The fact was that she was content and more than excited at the prospects in her future—a future that included her wizard, her lover.

_My Severus..._

The minute they arrived home from their weekend getaway, Hermione had been rather decided about keeping this personal moment to just the two of them for the time being. She wanted to tell her friends the good news in person, starting with Harry and Ginny, and as for the rest of the world... Well, she wasn't quite sure she was ready for everyone to know of their engagement.

Was it too soon, as Severus had so carefully put the question to Hermione a few nights ago? It certainly didn't_ feel_ too hasty. They had been dating for over two years, and even if their relationship still felt relatively fresh to everyone else, it was old news to them. They were gradually working through things, yes, but they had already been through more hurdles than most couples encountered in a lifetime. And there was also the inexplicable factor that, in those two years, Hermione's sentiments about Severus hadn't changed. If anything, they had only grown fonder—deeper and more complete—and wasn't that the point? To fall more profoundly in love with your other half?

Hermione shook her head of unruly curls and followed Severus down into his lab, the crooning of Billie Holiday filling her ears as she descended the staircase. The lyrics brought a halfhearted smile to her lips, and she readily hummed along.

Crookshanks was sitting comfortably at his usual perch: the corner of Severus's work bench. Severus, meanwhile, had removed his coat, his white undershirt hanging loose with his sleeves carefully folded back. He was supposedly in the middle of combining two potion ingredients but had paused to stare down his work, his mouth stern and set at an unsatisfied angle, his eyes squinting in the dim lighting. Hermione halted when she caught the disturbing sight of one pale hand rubbing gingerly at the prominent scars on his neck, the rest of him otherwise immobile.

Severus's eyes flickered, soon catching a visual of a distraught Hermione staring at him. Promptly removing his hand, Severus set to work again as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

"You all right?" Hermione whispered, disheartened by the mask of indifference morphing across Severus's face, dark hairs dropping into his eyes to somewhat conceal any form of expression.

"I'm fine," was all he came back at her with, his voice just as soft.

Hermione slowly strolled over behind him as he labored over his work, waving his hands gracefully in the air while simultaneously cutting ingredients into perfect squares. Hermione removed her ponytail and gently pulled Severus's hair back with the thick tie. He tilted his head slightly but kept going, making no objection to her attention, his face hidden from Hermione's point of view as she placed the limp, black strands into a loose ponytail of their own.

"You sure?" she urged softly, hugging him at the waist, pressing herself into his back.

"Yes..." he said after a moment or two, continuing to work, but with one arm resting over hers.

Cautiously, Hermione brought a hand up his back to his neck, feeling for the scars around his Adam's apple. Severus immediately went stiff as a board, his shoulders hunching around her before unclamping. He turned around, a few small hairs still hanging in his eyes, which Hermione delicately tucked behind his ears before one of her hands came back to his scars, her light fingers tracing the abrupt dips in his skin where there shouldn't be any curves at all.

It was hard to believe, even now, that such scars were the product of so much unnecessary suffering. To Hermione, seeing them patched up, new skin growing where open wounds had once threatened Severus's life, was a bit of cruel irony. On the one hand, the scars were healed, but the rest of Severus was another story. To everyone else, Severus was a whole man once more on the outside, if not irrevocably broken by his lonesome and unfriendly nature. But inside, his body was still attacking itself, fighting his every effort to live a normal, fulfilling life.

Hermione found herself inadvertently shaking her head, her curls whipping back and forth upon her shoulders. Severus was keenly looking at her, but her eyes only had attention for the unsightly marks on his neck. She reached onto her tip toes to caress them with her warm, plush lips, alarming Severus at such intimate touching. Her mouth sucked and pecked, kissing the bites just as she had so often kissed the other scars that lined the wizard's chest and back.

She heard Severus inhale sharply, his shoulders tensing at her loving attention to his wounds. "Hermione, please," he almost pleaded, sounding weakened and unsure.

Confused, Hermione stopped and gazed up at him. She couldn't understand why he was so opposed to her touching the snake bites when he was fine with her touching him everywhere else.

"What is it?" she asked timidly, searching those well acquainted obsidian-colored eyes that were appearing freshly dejected.

"Nothing."

"Severus..." Hermione brushed her fingers through the man's locks; the tension within began to disarm, the weight of his head leaning into her hand. "Why don't you like me touching the bites?"

"It's not _you..._"

"I know that, but why?"

"Because of what they are, Hermione. Dark Magic. It... It's a piece of him... Inside me."

Hermione inched closer. "You think you're a bad person?"

It was rather amazing to her how attuned she had grown to deciphering the spy. Even Severus seemed a tad shaken by her peeling away another layer to his facade, but he nodded accordingly.

"It's hard not to. The venom, the Horcrux... It's a fragment of his soul, Hermione. Imagine what the rest of the world will think once they know..."

"They _won't_ know."

Severus's eyes constricted. "How do you know?" he challenged through a heightened voice.

"If it bothers you so much, we won't tell anyone, Severus. Not even Harry or any of my closest friends. They know the snake bites have a lot to do with your health problems, but they don't know the full extent. We can keep it that way, Severus, if you wish?"

"I... Yes, I'd prefer that."

"Very well then." Hermione eyed him reflectively. "But what's wrong with _me_ touching them?"

"I... I'm not sure, to be honest."

Hermione went rigid, her mouth hanging slightly open. "Something to do with the venom?"

The look Severus bore her was glum and shamefaced. "Perhaps... For whatever reason, it makes me inexplicably angry. It... It's not necessarily _me_, Hermione. I just— I can't seem to prevent it."

Realizing yet another symptom Severus was struggling shot down Hermione's resolve a little, but she did her best not to let the man see just how crestfallen she felt at his expense. "I understand, though I still wish I could touch them without you shying away from me. I don't think it's entirely the venom, Severus..." She hugged him closer, gripping onto his back. "I think you _are_ ashamed of them in some capacity, and I don't understand why."

Severus's jaw tightened. "Is it not enough that I carry the Dark Mark? That I killed a beloved wizard? That I will forever have blood on my hands for the crimes I've committed?"

Hermione's blood itself ran cold. "Severus," she issued quietly, "you didn't bring this upon yourself. Nagini's attack isn't something..." She suddenly stopped mid-sentence, surveying his hardened visage anew. "You think it's punishment for the things you did. You think you deserve this pain and suffering, is that it?"

Severus's shifty eyes gave him away easily enough, though he grunted and tried to dissuade her. "No, it's not that—"

"Bollocks, _yes, it is._ How can you think that, Severus? _Why_ would you think you deserve this, after everything we've been through?"

Severus didn't answer, however. He scrutinized her in silence, the features of his face still hardened, before turning around with his head hung low. He mechanically resumed his work without a word, leaving Hermione trumped and jaded by his blatant dismissal, not to mention his inner turmoil.

Hermione refused to leave the situation alone, instead craning her neck to kiss the back of his head. He paused what he was doing, though he still didn't utter a word, supposedly waiting on her to fill the void.

"I wish you wouldn't be so hard on yourself," Hermione nudged his ear, gave him another firm embrace, and quietly walked out of the laboratory, understanding that Severus probably wanted some space and time to himself to think, though she could only pray it wasn't to chastise himself further.

* * *

That brief conversation was never far away in the days that followed. Hermione couldn't shake the morbid contemplations of her lover.

_How could he think he deserved this?_ How? _What's it going to take for him to stop beating himself up?_

Hermione had taken the liberty of cleaning Severus's lab the following weekend when he went to meet with McGonagall in Hogsmeade. The Headmistress had requested an informal get-together to discuss the following fall term, something both found relatively odd, given that it was only January and the fall term was nine months away; but Hermione didn't fuss, insisting that she needed something to occupy her Sunday afternoon and would put things back in their rightful order.

"The elixirs go in alphabetical order on the far wall there, and the bicorn and Ashwinder eggs go—"

"Severus, this place is setup virtually the same as your lab at Hogwarts," Hermione snickered, smiling at him with amusement. "I think I can manage."

"Yes, well, it would be just like you to put things back incorrectly just to mess with me," he scolded her with a faint hiss, adjusting his robes as he prepared to leave.

"Would you give me the benefit of the doubt, Mister?"

"You don't automatically get that reprieve every time."

"That doesn't seem fair."

"It's _more_ than fair, my dear."

Hermione bent forward and met his mouth for a farewell kiss. "You planning on telling McGonagall?"

"Tell her what exactly?"

Hermione slapped his shoulder, ignoring his challenging smirk. "Our engagement, of course!"

"Oh, _that._ No."

Hermione tapered her eyebrows. "Why not?"

"Would you like me to?"

Hermione considered his question briefly before swiftly rejecting it. "On second thought, no. I actually rather like it being just us two for the time being."

"Since you've informed Potter and Miss Weasley, it's hardly a secret anymore."

"True; but it's different for you. Your colleagues may not take too kindly to the news just yet."

"And since when do_ I_ care what my colleagues think?" he snarled, ruffled by such a notion.

Hermione giggled and rested her head beneath his chin, grinning from ear to ear. "Very true."

"Do I have your permission then or no?"

"Do what you like."

"'Do what I like,'" Severus repeated, growling his irritation. "That's a trick. I wish you would just say what you want me to do and spare me any of your unnecessary flack later on."

Hermione glanced up at him, her fetching smile still in place. "Fine. Tell her. Just put it gently, all right? Don't make her squirm for your own personal enjoyment."

Hermione didn't miss the small flicker in those dark orbs. "Then it wouldn't be worth telling."

"You're a nasty sod, you know that?"

Severus merely continued to smirk defiantly. He rubbed his nose with hers, pecked her forehead, and took his leave, just as curious as Hermione why McGonagall had insisted upon such an early meeting.

Left to her own devices that Sunday morning, Hermione set straight to tiding up the laboratory, taking her time and listening to Billie Holiday's records as she did so. Crookshanks made a point of following her all around the room, sniffing at the air or swiping at phials within reach. Hermione had to scold him more than once, but every so often she caught sight of the ring on her finger, and everything was set to right again.

"Crooks, what are you doing now, you nuisance?"

Crookshanks's head had disappeared into a cupboard that was mostly propped shut, but a blue light was trickling through the crack in the door, immediately catching Hermione's attention. Crossing the room, she easily opened the door, her heart skipping excitedly at what her feline had discovered: a Pensieve, much like the one described to her by Harry that had been in Dumbledore's office.

How had she never known, or even suspected, that Severus had a Pensieve in their home? Her large, wondrous-looking eyes glazed over at a series of glass phials, each filled with individual silver mists, lined in row after row that surrounded the basin and towered several inches higher than her. Severus's labels were painstakingly written on every one. There had to be hundreds, perhaps thousands, of these phials, encasing memories of the past.

_Severus's past._

Hermione jumped at the opportunity that had literally smacked her upside the head. She furiously read the phials eye-level to her, intrigued—if not apprehensive—by several that were supposedly from the man's miserable childhood.

Should she chance a quick look? Should she wait it out and ask permission first? Would Severus be cross if he discovered she had looked at them without asking?

_Why should he?_ her mind argued the matter. _Wouldn't he trust me? More to the point, why didn't he tell me he had one in the first place? Don't I deserve to know?_ Hermione knew her aggravating conscience was talking itself up, roping her into the situation with less guilt than she should. _To hell with it._

And just like that, Hermione snatched up two phials that caught her interest and poured the first one into the basin as Crookshanks looked on at her feet, meowing up at her as if in protest to his mistress's action. He lightly swiped at her ankle.

"I _have_ to know, Crooks," she insisted, ignoring the feline's warning. "I just do."

Of course, Hermione had seen the select memories given to Harry, but those only fed her curiosity in recent months. Surely, she couldn't stop now. Not when the opportunity had so conveniently presented itself right in front of her face. If Severus fueled and foamed at the mouth at her sly efforts, then so be it. If he had nothing to hide, he shouldn't be upset with her for wanting to understand, should he?

Taking a deep breath, Hermione stuck her head into the bowl and was immediately swept into the sitting room of Spinner's End, only it wasn't the Spinner's End she had come to know so well. It was darker, gloomier, with less furniture and untidy. The curtains were drawn, just as Severus currently kept them, only they weren't a crimson red, but a faded grey with various tears in the fabric.

_In the center of the room sat a little boy with greasy, jet-black hair that framed his hooked nose, making it even more pronounced, along with his grime-ridden face. His clothes were too big and hung on his tiny frame, the cloth shabby and torn in places. He didn't look at all well-kept or clean. When was the last time the poor boy had showered? He had to be only five or six-years-old._

Severus...

_The little Slytherin was petting a black cat that Hermione could only assume was Billie, the feline Severus had described to her ages ago when she was still at Hogwarts, the furry companion he had loved and so desperately wanted to keep, until his mother was forced to send the feline away._

_The cat kept strolling back and forth before Severus, purring and nudging him affectionately each time Severus stroked her back or fluffy tail. Every so often, Severus would cough from the close contact, a result of his severe allergies._

Poor thing...

_Severus's mother didn't seem to notice, or maybe she didn't care? Either way, Hermione spotted the strange, withdrawn woman curled up in a corner of the room, sitting in a ragged, old chair and peering out the window through a crack in the curtains. Her scowl never lifted, her eyes unblinking and ignoring her son entirely. The atmosphere was almost too quiet, as if Severus and his mother were waiting, bracing themselves for something dreadful to happen..._

_Finally, Eileen glanced over at her son. "Severus, stop touching Billie before you go into a fit."_

_"But I like petting her, Mummy."_

_"I know you do, but Daddy can't deal with your allergies today. Leave Billie alone."_

_Little Severus slumped, his greasy hair sliding forward to mask his disappointed profile as he reluctantly pushed the cat away. Billie meowed sadly and curled up into a ball at the boy's feet._

_"Can I go outside and play, Mummy?" Severus asked, turning to Eileen, who was now peering out the window again._

_"No, you may not."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because Daddy will be home any minute, and I can't have you wandering off. He'll want to see you."_

_"But Daddy doesn't like me."_

_Hermione was stricken by that statement, spoken in such a childlike, innocent voice. She watched little Severus—_her_ Severus—bend his knees to his chest and hug them tightly, looking in the opposite direction, facing Hermione without any acknowledgement of the witch scrutinizing him back. He looked miserable, lonely..._

_"He likes you, Severus," Eileen stated quietly, staring at the back of her son's head. "He just doesn't know how to show it."_

_"Why is he mean, Mummy?" Severus probed, his head still turned away from her. "Why doesn't he love us?"_

_"He loves us, Severus. He just has a hard time expressing it."_

_Eileen's voice was rather mechanical, unfeeling, and it seemed the little boy was attuned as to how to read between the lines of his mother's remarks. He rocked back and forth, watching Billie's tail flap lazily on the uneven floorboards._

_"Did I do something, Mummy?" he pressed after an interlude of silence, his voice feeble and unsure._

_It was so pure, with none of the smoothness that Hermione had come to know... And it was already shattering her to pieces._

_"Could I show him the flower I levitated? Maybe he'd like that?"_

_"No, Severus, he wouldn't."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Daddy doesn't approve of magic."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Because he's not like you and me. He can't make things levitate."_

_"Why can't he?"_

_"Because he's not a wizard, dear. He's a Muggle, remember? We've discussed this."_

_"Oh."_

_"Daddy's coming up the walkway," Eileen informed her son and scurried to her feet, tiding everything up abruptly with her wand, as if she hadn't noticed the general mess until that fleeting moment. "Severus, I need you to go greet him, and behave yourself."_

_"Yes, Mummy."_

_Severus jumped to his feet and Hermione noticed that the large coat he was wearing was several sizes bigger than it appeared when he was seated. His shoes were a size or two too large as well, his scrawny, white legs making him look exceedingly malnourished. Hermione had seen it all before, but it was just as mollifying as her first observance into his past, like a hard punch to the chest. She wanted to feed him, bathe him, present him with fresh clothes, perhaps even a toy or two, as it seemed like he hadn't a single item to occupy himself with._

_Severus wobbled to the hallway where Hermione was watching and waited at the ready for his father to enter the front door. Soon enough, the shadow of a large, male figure came into view from the window in the door entrance. The door flung open and Tobias Snape stumbled in, his hefty boots echoing along the floor as he reached for the wall to catch his balance. His face was sharp—terrifying—with stubble on his chin and the reflections of a hard life etched into the deep lines that covered his rough-looking features._

_Hermione noticed that little Severus instantly recoiled a step or two, slinking away from the man as if he were a complete stranger. That small movement sickened her. Was he actually shaking? His knees were wobbling and his small hands peeking out of his oversized coat seemed to be trembling as well._

_"Hi, Daddy."_

_Tobias merely grunted at his son and stomped past him into the sitting room, ignoring the boy entirely. Eileen hurried to greet her husband. The lanky, unattractive woman bustled with removing his coat, ensuring that he was comfortable, and retreated to the kitchen to fetch him a stiff drink._

_Severus was left stranded in the hallway, quietly waiting to be acknowledged. Once Eileen was out of sight, Tobias peered over at the gawky boy and motioned for him to approach with a commanding finger._

_"Come here, boy." His voice was tough, unloving, but Severus did as he was told without question, halting before his father as the man surveyed him up and down with a critical look in his dark eyes. "When was the last time you showered?" He scrunched up his nose, disgusted. "You reek."_

_"Monday, Daddy," he replied weakly._

_"_Monday? _Eileen!" he growled to his wife in the other room._

_"Yes, Tobias?"_

_"The kid stinks! When were you planning on bathing him?"_

_"I'm sorry, Tobias," Eileen apologized, rushing in and handing him a fresh glass of scotch. "I got busy running errands today and cleaning—"_

_"Cleaning?" he snorted mercilessly, waving his arm at his somewhat unkempt surroundings. "You call this cleaning? This place is in shambles! And don't think I don't know you're using that ruddy stick of yours to tidy everything up around here. What did I tell you about that?"_

_Eileen's long hair fell into her eyes, masking part of her face. Hermione finally understood where Severus's gesture of insecurity stemmed from. It was a haunting fact to discover._

_"I... I'm sorry, Tobias."_

_"_Sorry!_ Your son smells like a catfish, the place is disgusting, and you expect my sympathy over the fact that you can't get shit done around here?" He glared at his wife without an ounce of affection. "What the bloody hell do you do with yourself while I'm at work all day, woman?_ NAP_?"_

_"N - No, Tobias—"_

_"Well, clean up the kid! I won't have my son stinking up the house! It's smells horrid enough in here without him!"_

_"Yes, Tobias."_

_Before Eileen could advance on Severus, however, Tobias did first. "Let me see you."_

_He reached out and forcefully grabbed Severus's chin, pinching his skin, which made Severus squirm in pain. Tobias, however, ignored the boy's discomfort and inspected him through a beady pair of eyes before throwing his hand off of Severus and sending him stumbling backward._

_"The bloody kid's a disgrace. Just look at him!"_

_"Tobias, please," Eileen pleaded quietly, seeing her son's lower lip starting to waver. "Have some pity on him. He can't help how he looks..."_

_"He can start by bathing, for one!" the man growled, agitated and cross. "I'd suggest cutting his hair, but then it would only draw more attention to that ugly, overgrown snout of his!" He scowled, bearing his crooked, stained teeth. Hermione thought she heard Severus whimper but couldn't be sure. He did, however, cower from his father and take another step back. "You're an unsightly thing, boy! Get out of my sight! I don't want to look at you!"_

_Frozen where he stood, Severus lowered his head a fraction or two and offered, in a pained, childlike whisper, "I - I'm sorry, Daddy..."_

_It was the hurt and rejection that only a child's voice could carry, and it made Hermione nauseous and emotionally overwrought. Her eyes by this point were swimming with tears. This was only a taste of her lover's childhood, and it was, just like the memories he had shown Harry, nearly unbearable to witness._

_How could the man say such awful things? What on earth had Severus done to warrant such cruel abuse?_

_There was no fondness between Severus and his parents. Perhaps his mother was a little more caring, but even she seemed emotionally detached from her son. Hermione could easily recall the countless times her father had scooped her up in his arms when he walked through the door at the end of a long work day, and her mother crawling around with her on the floor when she was a youngster, playing and engaging with her as loving parents so often did._

_Not the Snapes. They weren't attached to the pale boy with long, raven locks and pointed nose much at all. Seeing the confirmation of it again broke Hermione's heart. She instinctively reached out to touch the back of Severus's head, but her hand went straight through him. She was a mere spectator here—a ghost—and could do nothing to comfort the little boy._

_Why on earth would Severus have held on to such a memory of his father belittling him, with so little regard for the stinging words he was sputtering that would affect his son for many years to come?_

_"Tobias, don't be cruel to him," Eileen stated with more feeling. It was the most expressive Hermione had heard the woman yet, and, for whatever reason, it fueled her anger; it was about time she defended her child. "He's done nothing to deserve that from you."_

_"He doesn't have to do anything!" Tobias snarled, his hands clenching into fists; Eileen instantly reared back. "Just look at him! A pitiful excuse for a child. I thought you would give me a son! Not this scrawny, pathetic little louse!"_

_"Tobias, please—"_

_"Get upstairs, boy, and wash yourself!"_

_"But I..." Severus trembled and searched his mother for guidance. "I don't..."_

_"Are you daft as well?" Tobias shot out of his chair, and Eileen immediately flew around Tobias to block him from getting at their son. "GET UPSTAIRS, YOU IDIOT BOY! YOU FILTH! NOW!"_

_Severus jumped and started to run for the hallway when the sounds of hefty shoes scuffling along the floor, and a general commotion, made him stop in his tracks and turn around. Tobias had grabbed Eileen by the arms, squeezing her too tightly, shaking her while cursing underneath his breath. Severus and Hermione couldn't make out everything that was being said, but Eileen kept furiously shaking her head and trying to calm her husband down._

_It didn't take long for him to grow disgruntled with her, too, and she was thrown sideways like a pinball machine. Eileen banged her shins hard against solid ground and remained firmly in place, not at all daring to move. Hermione watched in a stunned silence, but then Severus's voice—small and very unlike his deep register—rang out, distracting her._

_"MUMMY!"_

_Hermione caught sight of the child running towards his mother, his arms outstretched and desperate to reach her. Eileen had barely raised her head, however, before Severus was snatched up, well before he could get to her. Tobias yanked him by the hair and dragged him out into the hallway and up the stairs, calling for his battered wife to follow. He ignored Severus's yelps of pain, tears streaming freely down his face as his father tugged even harder._

_Hermione followed helplessly, until she realized half way up the stairs that she was screaming at Severus's father, ordering him to put a stop to his abuse, that he was hurting the boy and acting like a complete and total arse._

It's a memory, Hermione, _she reminded herself._ There's nothing you can do... You can't change this...

_"Get in here, boy!"_

_Tobias literally threw Severus into a small bathroom off of the hallway—one that apparently was no longer in existence—and wrenched his clothes off, leaving him stark naked and exposed. Hermione all but cried out at how horribly thin he was. His ribcage was visible, every blue vein beneath extremely pallid skin visible to the eye, and with dark bruises covering his arms and legs that she hadn't noticed before. Her mind immediately gathered where those marks had come from, and a heat spread in her chest, up to her face, making her cheeks glow with fury._

But there's nothing you can do, Hermione...

_"Da - Daddy, please," little Severus sniveled, shaking and apparently trying hard not to cry._

_"SHUT UP! Get in the tub before I throw you in!"_

_Severus hurried into the tub, fumbling and scraping himself as he did so, and bundled himself into a ball in the corner, still trembling. Tobias rolled up his sleeves in a frenzy and turned on the water, only he didn't turn the dial to a warm temperature but kept it near freezing._

_Hermione knew what was about to ensue before it happened. She bolted forward, desperate to put a stop to this, but, of course, there was nothing for it. Removing the shower spray from its holder, Tobias aimed it directly at the cowering child, and the frigid water hit Severus in the face before he could shield himself._

_"No, Daddy! No!" he cried out._

_"BE QUIET!"_

_"But it's c - cold! It's cold!"_

_"I don't give a damn, you wretched little slime bucket!"_

_Severus buried his cries into the corner of the tub, hugging himself as the frozen water stung him everywhere. His tiny body convulsed in protest to the freezing water hitting his skin, and every so often he whimpered but wouldn't show his face._

_Hermione was reaching the point of hysteria. This was beyond awful. Why was she watching this? Yet, she couldn't turn away. How could Severus endure such cruelty? How could the man she loved not have shared any of this with her?_

You know why he hasn't, Hermione, _she cautioned herself._ Would _you_ want to relive this?

No...

So,_ why_ was Severus holding on to such a memory?

_Eileen came bursting through the door, however, and interrupted her thoughts. "Please, Tobias! That's enough! I - I'll do it!"_

_"Then get over here!" he commanded with an angry growl. As soon as she got close enough, he yanked on her clothing to bring her to her knees beside him and handed her the shower rod. "And don't you dare let him out of this tub until he's thoroughly clean, you got that?"_

_"Y - Yes, Tobias," she replied, her voice calm, yet a bit shaky._

_Tobias stumbled to his feet and stalked out of the room, leaving mother and son to fend for themselves. It was an agonizingly long period of time, however—at least to Hermione—before Eileen said anything to her son. Hermione utterly despised the silence. She hated hearing him softly crying over what he might have done to warrant this abuse, trembling from the cold water with his face buried behind his hands, whilst his mother did nothing but stare at him unreservedly._

"Do something!" _Hermione found herself screaming at thin air._ "Why are you just sitting there? Console your son! HE DID NOTHING!"

_At first, Hermione thought Eileen was merely jaded by her husband's nasty bout of rage, that she just needed a moment or two to collect her wits. But then, Eileen straightened and scowled at Severus, her dark, cold eyes glittering strangely. It was eerily reminiscent of the reserved, aloof Potions Master that Hermione once knew; it made her breath stall._

_"Stop crying, Severus," her mother demanded; it didn't carry the same force as her husband's, but it was just as unnervingly bitter._

_Severus slowly peered over his shoulder, his eyes drenched and several wet hairs hanging in his face. His hooked nose was redder, too, from crying._

_"You don't want to upset him further, do you?"_

_"N - No, Mummy."_

_"Then stop crying, and let me wash you."_

_"Pl - Please, Mummy," he begged though a cracked voice, "it's s - so cold."_

_"I'll make it warmer, but you have to stop crying. Now."_

_"Y - Yes, Mummy."_

_"Good boy."_

_With that, Eileen turned the faucet to a much more suitable temperature and took a bar of soap in hand. Severus scooted closer, still sniffling quietly, as his mother washed him from head to toe without one word of solace._

_Hermione found it almost as difficult to watch as Tobias Snape's abuse from earlier. Severus's mother wasn't rough with him, but she wasn't nurturing either. She didn't offer him any sort of comfort, try to calm his nerves, or even stop the silent tears that continued to fall down his cheeks. All the while, Severus gazed up at his mother, his big, black eyes hoping for what Hermione could only assume was some sort of reassurance that he had done nothing wrong; but the words he so desperately wanted to hear never came._

_When bath time was through, Severus was handed an oversized, faded nightgown and sent to his room whilst his mother got dinner ready downstairs. Hermione followed the younger version of her wizard into his bedroom, not at all like the one she and Severus occupied now, watching him hop onto his bed and back himself into a corner, his knees drawn up again like they were in the bathtub when confronted by his father's ugly wrath._

_As Hermione moved closer, she jerked to discover him quietly crying again. His hair hung like a dark curtain around his face, and all she could make out from her viewpoint was the tip of his protruding nose and angled eyebrows. His slow, mournful sobs tore Hermione's heart from her chest, and she wasn't even aware that she, too, was matching the young boy's cries of tribulation._

_Then she heard it. More rough shouting coming from downstairs. Dishes were breaking, and feet were tussling along the floor. Eileen could vaguely be heard crying in distress, though she was immediately overshadowed by Tobias's booming shouts. And Severus's muffled crying started all over again._

_Hermione walked over and slumped down onto the bed, staring straight at the lowly form of Severus Snape, nothing but sympathy and agony in her kindhearted eyes, now drenched with tears of her own. She let him cry for a time and then reached out to gently touch his leg, dismayed once again that she couldn't touch him. She couldn't take away his suffering. She couldn't do anything but watch in woe and misery._

"I promise you, Severus," _she whispered, choking back tears,_ "it won't be like this forever..."

_They were words she so urgently wished the little boy could hear. Would it have made a difference to know he wouldn't always know nothing but pain and suffering?_

"It's going to get better, sweetheart; you'll see. You'll experience better things than this. I promise. It's going to be all right, Severus..."

Hermione drifted out of the Pensieve, the traumatic outline of a five-year-old Severus sobbing on his bed the last image in her mind before she pulled herself out of the basin. Her own cries were strained. She scrambled backward into a chair and held a hand to her mouth to stop herself from letting the sobs grow out of control.

How could she possibly look at more of these? Was it even worth it? This one had been horrifying enough, and Hermione's smarts told her there had to be worse ones yet; this memory was only the beginning. If she couldn't tough this out and not bring herself to further understand her wizard's past, then how could she move forward?

_Keep going, Hermione_, her conscience persuaded, instilling her Gryffindor courage from somewhere she knew not. _It's all in the past. Just keep going._

* * *

Severus Flooed into the sitting room, wiping off some soot that had settled on his shoulders, surprised to find none of the lights on and no sounds evident throughout the house. Hermione couldn't possibly still be cleaning his lab, could she?

_No._

Had she gone out?

_Odd that she wouldn't tell me. Perhaps she left a note..._

Severus wandered into the kitchen but didn't find what his eyes were searching for. "Hermione?" he called out into the darkness. An afternoon rain was pounding against the rooftop, but there were no sounds of a curly-haired witch coming to greet him.

Severus checked the library next, which, too, was abandoned. And then his eyes trailed to the hidden door in the wall that led to his laboratory. It was wide open, and evidence of a light trickled up to the spiraling staircase.

"What the hell?" Severus grumbled, with narrowed eyes.

Severus swooped down the staircase, barely making a sound, and spotted her the moment he reached the bottom. To his right in the far corner was the witch in question. Crookshanks had curled up on the floor at her feet, but she wasn't paying him any mind. Her frame was hunched over, her face buried in...

"Damn it!"

Severus crossed the small space dividing them in only a second, ignoring Crookshank's mewled greeting, and grabbed Hermione forcefully by the shoulders. He had every intention of reprimanding her for catching her snooping about, but when her face flew out of the Pensieve and met his, his heated anger rushed to the back of his mind in a flash.

Hermione was a mess, covered in tears and sobbing hysterically. He couldn't recall ever seeing her quite that distressed. Without any hesitation, she hurled herself at him and threw her arms around his neck.

"Hermione—" he began but was quickly interrupted.

"_How could he?_"

"What?"

"_Your Hogwarts letter!_ How could he do that to you? Where was the justification in that? _Where?_"

Realizing the horrors Hermione spoke of only disconcerted Severus more. He quietly pried her arms away but held onto them when he met her tear-drenched eyes.

"Hermione, what the hell are you doing?"

"I - I was cleaning and found your Pensieve..."

"Oh? Is _that_ how it went?"

"Y - Yes. Honest."

"_And?_"

"And I... I got distracted."

Severus rolled his eyes. He wanted to be cross, but he wasn't as infuriated with her as he knew he ought to be. The old Severus wouldn't have hesitated to throw her out, if only after giving her a piece of his mind first.

_The old Severus..._

"Hermione, _why did you look?_"

"I... I couldn't help it," she mumbled, her lips quivering uncontrollably.

"_Oh?_" He arched an eyebrow. "It's a condition now, is it?"

"Maybe," she sniffed and attempted a halfhearted smile.

"Hermione..."

"Is your father dead?"

Severus blinked. _That_ wasn't a question he anticipated. "What?"

"Is your father dead?" she repeated more insistently. "_Is he?_"

"Yes, he is..."

"Good!" Hermione added quickly, noticing the wizard's flash of shock, "I'm sorry, but I'm bloody well glad! He was a right foul bastard! If he _were_ alive, he wouldn't be for long! Not after what I've seen!"

"Hermione—"

"How did he die?"

"Alcoholism... When I was in my seventh year."

"And your mum?"

Severus grimaced, and his grip around her arms loosened. "She died shortly before you started your first year. I was thirty."

Hermione maneuvered one of her wrists free to wipe at her eyes. "How?"

"I'm not sure. Depression, a broken heart, years of being battered and torn down... I don't know. She had heart failure. It was a matter of time."

"Oh. I... I'm sorry."

Severus tugged at her chin. "Hermione, what's this all about?"

Hermione bit down hard on her lower lip. She was still finding it difficult to gain control of her composure. For hours, she had been observing a much younger, much more openly vulnerable and sensitive Severus growing up before her eyes. The man in front of her was quite different—controlled, disciplined, retracted.

"There's still so much you haven't opened up to me about. I understand, and I haven't wanted to push you to tell me anything. I've figured you'd share with me in your own time, when you were ready, and _you have._

"But, well... Finding your Pensieve this morning, I just had to see for myself. I... I'm sorry, Severus. I honestly didn't mean to pry." She paused, eying him sheepishly. "At least, not at first."

Severus sighed heavily, giving a small shake of his head. "I should have known."

"I think it makes knowing a little easier on you though, don't you think? You don't have to explain so much now..."

Severus surprised her with a half-cocked smirk. "Is that how you justify snooping into my past?"

Hermione's cheeks started to burn from her humiliation. "I... I told you, I _am_ sorry, Severus—"

"No, you're not."

"What?" Hermione asked with a slight jerk.

Severus leaned in to the point that their noses nearly touched, causing Hermione to swallow hard at being under his unnerving scrutiny. "What have I told you about apologizing for things you aren't sorry for?"

With that, Hermione withered and brought her curly head to his chest, taking in a comforting whiff of his aroma. There was a small tug on his back, a pair of hands pressing themselves into his shoulders. He could feel her gently rubbing her face against his array of buttons, too, and his response was immediate and swift. He found himself not inwardly chiding for once as he brought Hermione into his fold, caressing her with a quiet dose of comfort.

Hermione reacted, snuggling into his neck, her breaths excited and tickling his skin. "Severus?"

"Yes?"

Hermione frowned, giving him a critical look over. "I don't understand why you've kept so many unhappy memories. I... Please tell me you don't still look at these?"

It was a moment or two before Severus answered, grunting as he replied, "I do so on occasion, from time to time."

"What? _Why?_"

"Because I just do, Hermione," he snarled, though not irritably. "Why do you bite your bottom lip to the point that you cause it to bleed?"

"Huh?"

"_Exactly_," he hissed, brushing her chin with his thumb. "You just do. Don't ask me why. There are some questions I can't answer for you..."

"But Severus..."

"I do wish you would've asked, but seeing as it's _you_ that we're talking about meddling with my things, I'll let it go."

"Oh... But I..."

"It's all right," he sighed again, his lips meeting her forehead for a few light kisses.

Hermione sniveled and brought him back into a snug embrace of her own, grateful that he wasn't all that cross, though she was still too overcome by the horrors she had witnessed to focus on the lingering reality of being caught. She felt his arms constrict around her, and that familiar, almost hungry hug of his consoled her greatly.

"I'm sorry, Severus."

"No, you're not," he groused, which made her genuinely laugh, "so quit it, would you?"

"No, not that."

"Ahhh, of course not."

"I meant that I'm sorry... For what you went through. You've explained much of it to me, but actually _seeing_ it like that... I... I'm just so sorry."

"Why should you be?"

"I mean it, Severus! No one deserves that. And no, _not even you! You least of all_, all right?"

"As you say."

Hermione embedded her face into the crook of his neck, her face hidden by strands of black hair. "Not 'as I say,' _as it should've been!_ No child deserves an upbringing like that. Children are supposed to be loved, nurtured, taken care of. You weren't. Your parents treated you despicably, and you may continue to think that _that_ sort of child rearing was warranted, but it wasn't! You're smart, Severus. Brilliant, in fact. _I know you know better._"

"Hermione, enough."

"I'm just saying, all right? I... I have to."

"Very well." Severus sighed, relented, and hugged her close. "Thank you. And now that you've gotten that off your chest—" Hermione reared back to swat his arm, heartened by his lightheartedness. "—I have some news."

"That doesn't sound good..." Hermione drew back further, scrutinizing the dark lines on his face for any signs as to what he was alluding to. "How did it go with McGonagall?"

"Appropriately awkward."

"I figured as much."

"Yes, well, breaking our engagement to her was about the only satisfaction I got out of the entire ordeal."

Hermione smiled at the provocation dancing across his eyes. It was the lightest she had felt all morning, and she welcomed it back with open arms.

"Please tell me you put it to her gently?"

"Just as I put everything delicately?"

Hermione tried not to roll her eyes. "Point taken."

"She squirmed and all but wanted to Disapparate right then and there."

"Oh, splendid. I can't wait to see how the rest of our friends take to the news."

"_Your_ friends, my dear. They're hardly mine."

"Bollocks."

"Anyway," Severus tugged her closer, pausing to gently peck her nose, "she informed me that I don't quite have my position at Hogwarts back yet."

"_What?_" Hermione gasped, her mouth falling open. "What do you mean? Why?"

"Board of Governors. They wish to have an 'informal' get-together in the next month or so."

Hermione's golden irises went from round to near slits. "You mean they wish to grill you about us."

"Yes."

"Figures!" Hermione snarled outright; it inwardly delighted Severus to see her so riled up. "When will this be over? It's not their choice! It's not their life!"

"That may be so, Hermione, but you were my student when our relations began. They're well within their right to ask questions."

Hermione peered up at him with fresh reservations. "Can I come?" she asked in the hopes that her wish would be granted.

"I'm afraid not." Seeing her mounting disappointment, he nudged his forehead against hers. "But you can stay out of my ruddy Pensieve from now on."

Hermione's smile appropriately returned. "Fat chance, Mister."

"Hermione, it's all in the past—"

"It's_ your_ past, and that's important to me to know. I can't help it."

"You've said that already," he snarled with some amusement. "Impossible nag as always."

"Stubborn sod as usual."

His soft, robust laughter sent her over the edge, and she finally felt a heavy weight from earlier lifting, if only temporarily. She grabbed his robes and pulled his mouth into hers, melting into his kiss.

"I mean it, Severus," she whispered afterwards. "I hate what you experienced, but I want to understand the things you've gone through. It's not mere curiosity. It's all in an effort to—"

"Dissect me?"

Hermione frowned. "I was going to say 'understand you,' but..."

"Same thing."

"No, it isn't!"

"_Is, too_," he growled back. "Now, come upstairs. I think you've been emotionally scarred enough for one day."

Hermione secretly suspected he was right and allowed Severus to close access to his past with a flick of his wand. Leading her up the stone steps, the topic of selling Spinner's End "sooner rather than later" brought her out of the past and into their present.

* * *

An owl arrived a week or so later with further announcement: an unofficial meeting with the Board of Governors, along with McGonagall and staff members, was designated for the end of April, nearly two months away. _Figures that they would want to make Severus sweat this out_, Hermione grumbled as she changed into fresh clothes the following morning.

Hermione had finally broken the news of her and Severus's engagement to friends, but it had taken her well into February to do so. She purposely avoided drawing attention to her hand whenever she was in their company, kept a low profile for the most part, and hardly saw friends during that—what she deemed to be—a fantastic "alone period" with Severus. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell others the good news, only she wanted to make the thrill and secretiveness of it between her and her wizard only last as long as possible.

"I don't understand you," Severus muttered only the week before, while she was getting ready for work. "Get it over with. Why are you so hesitant?"

"Don't even start," she reprimanded him lightly, bending over the kitchen table to kiss his cheek. "It has nothing to do with _you._"

"Then what is it?" He scrutinized her through confined eyes, holding his coffee mug in one hand.

"So sue me; I just rather like the secrecy. I kind of wish now I had waited to tell my parents, too. I like it just being the two of us right now."

"Hermione, you can't put this off forever—"

"Oh, I know that," she swatted him with her hand, smiling and not at all concerned as Severus seemed to be. "I'm meeting Ginny and Harry next weekend when she'll be home for a few days from Hogwarts. I'm going to break it to them then."

"You sound strangely delighted about all this," Severus drawled, his eyes flickering encouragingly. "You enjoy toying with others people's emotions as much as I do."

"I do not!"

"Do, too. And how do you propose to break the news to that fickle, ginger friend of yours?"

Hermione's giddiness over the matter dissipated. She stared down at the gorgeous jewel on her fourth finger, this time with a twinge of unwillingness, though not at all for Severus, but for her one time good friend and the pain it would surely cause him to hear.

"I... I'm not sure. I wasn't planning to tell him, actually. If he's around, I was going to wait 'till he wasn't."

Severus grimaced appropriately. "That isn't smart, Hermione."

"Oh? How would _you_ propose I tell him then?"

"I'd rather see you deal with him and get it over with."

"Easy for _you_ to say," she sputtered. "You won't be breaking his heart."

"Would you rather him find out through others that you didn't have the nerve to be forthright?" Severus prodded, trying to get her to see reason. "You think _that_ would go over better?"

"No..."

"Then there's nothing for it."

"You make it sound so easy."

"I don't mean to." Severus took a moment to sip his coffee, his gaze never diverting from hers. "I'll be here next weekend if you need me."

The professor quickly returned to his copy of the _Prophet_, but Hermione continued to stare down at him, no longer melancholy. A soft, appreciative smile curled her mouth as she surveyed him over his newspaper, knowing how understatedly supportive he was being.

"Thank you," she replied, waiting for the black eyes to meet hers again. "Planning on going somewhere, were you?" she added with a short chuckle.

"No, only you know where to find me should you—"

"Yes, I know. And thanks," she repeated.

Severus grunted but kept his eyes glued to his newspaper. Hermione shook her head, feeling her spirits livening, and kissed the top of his head one more time. Severus didn't say anything, but he did peer up at her, waiting for something.

"I'll admit," he whispered close to her face, "I wish you hadn't informed your parents so soon either."

At that, Hermione laughed wholeheartedly. "Oh, Severus, they're not returning to England to try to dissuade me."

"You sure about that?" he growled, not at all convinced.

"Have a little faith in them, all right? They don't completely despise you anymore."

"And why would I care either way?"

"Because they're a part of _me_," she snickered, pecking his brow, "and I know that it's important to you, no matter how indifferent you pretend to be."

Severus shifted in his chair, his face gaining some color. "I can only hope they won't be moving in next door," he snarled disparagingly.

"Don't worry." Hermione extended her smile and brushed a hand through his hair. "They miss life in England, but Cokeworth isn't exactly their preferred scenery. They need something a little more _lively._"

"Good." Severus scowled heavily. "I still don't enjoy the idea of them coming around here any time they wish..."

"Severus, they won't, trust me!" Hermione laughed at his discomfort. "It'll actually be good for me to see them more; bring them round to the idea."

"I wish you luck."

The reply that had arrived from Hermione's parents was clearly forced. They tried to offer their support, but they were more discouraged by the news than anything else. Elizabeth repeated herself several times in her and her husband's letter about how they hoped their daughter had "really thought this through" and made sure that Severus "was the man she wanted."

_Mum, did you listen to me at all in Australia?_ Hermione reflected at the time, a tad miffed, though she knew to expect such an unfavorable reply.

"Well, in any case," Severus interrupted her reflections, "I intend to start doing a little research into our living situation."

"About selling?"

Hermione was rather excited by that prospect. They had discussed randomly over the past several months about selling Spinner's End, but nothing had come to fruition yet, and it wasn't something Hermione thought needed to be pushed anyhow. Between Severus hopefully securing his position at Hogwarts again, Hermione's own demanding work schedule, a wedding to plan—whenever they actually got around to it—and perhaps, even a honeymoon to organize, selling Severus's home didn't seem to be a top-ranking priority in her mind.

"Mmm," Severus answered, laying his paper down. "I don't think we'll be able to afford to leave for some time, but it might be worth looking into how to financially make it happen."

"Not soon though?"

"I'm afraid not. A couple years, perhaps."

"Severus, I really don't mind it here. You talk as if the place is unbearable." Hermione brought an arm around his neck, nudging him gently. "It's more than all right."

"I'm happy you think so, but I... I'd like to move on from here, particularly once we're married. Wouldn't you?"

"When we can afford to, yes."

It was one more discussion about their future that was rousing for Hermione to think on. Even amidst so much uncertainty, particularly where Severus's health was concerned, at least they had several positives to focus on, starting with their evolving life together. There was no rush to get married, but knowing what lay ahead was not only galvanizing for Hermione—and Severus, too—but a wonderful comfort on its own.

Hermione roused herself from her inner musings and leaned down to meet his mouth, pulling away a moment later with reluctance. She didn't expect that it would always feel like this—so full and satisfying that she could barely breathe—but, if the past two years had taught the young Gryffindor anything, she understood that it could surely continue to feel warmly affectionate, and deeper with time.

"I have to go," Hermione murmured, smiling against her lover's—fiance's—mouth. "I'll see you later."


	61. Patching Up Old Wounds

**A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to any State-side readers...**

** _Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 61: Patching Up Old Wounds**

"Wow. So, you're really going to sell Spinner's End?"

"Yes, but we're not sure when," Hermione sighed. "Apparently the market's slow right now, but this is also the home of _the notorious Severus Snape_, so people won't exactly be flocking in droves, even if we do decide to sell sooner rather than later."

"'Mione..."

"It's all right, Harry. Severus thinks we might have better luck putting it on the Muggle housing market at this juncture. That'll require fabricating the various wards he's placed on the house, but it can be done. It's been nearly six months now, and nothing."

"'Mione, with all due respect, you're living in _Cokeworth_," her friend reminded her with a wicked grin. "You probably shouldn't expect a whole lot of traffic anyhow."

"Well, even so, it's in great condition; Severus has done a hell of a lot with the place and—"

"But where are you even planning to move to?" Ginny piped up, eying her curiously.

The three of them sat comfortably in the Weasley's sitting room, whilst the rest of the family moseyed throughout the house. So far, Hermione hadn't run into Ron. In her stroke of luck, he hadn't been home since her arrival, though that didn't mean he couldn't return at any given moment.

Seated close to the burning hearth while a light snowfall trickled against the windows outside, Ginny kept one of her hands looped through Harry's. They hadn't moved for a few hours now, as they caught up on the redhead's stressful final year at Hogwarts and Harry's Auror training. Mostly, however, the conversation had centered around Hermione's engagement, which she had finally broken to them once they were alone. She had purposely kept her left hand out of sight but was still relatively surprised that Ginny hadn't noticed the ring at first glance.

The shock on her friends' faces was obvious. Though they were starting to get used to the notion of Hermione being with their old professor, whom no one ever saw anyhow, getting engaged was reportedly another matter of easiness. Hermione was grateful to be on the topic of Spinner's End for the moment but suspected that wouldn't last long. Harry and Ginny had done nothing but grill her since she arrived with the news.

"That's still up in the air. We're not really sure _where_ exactly we'd like to end up, but there's no rush."

"Well, erm, shouldn't you figure that out before selling the house?"

Hermione shrugged off Harry's question. "Not necessarily. We're both surprisingly optimistic that something will present itself. And anyway, we're in no rush to sell yet. It's just something we're considering."

"Optimistic?" Harry paused, he and Ginny exchanging freshly suspicious exchanges. "_Snape?_"

"Believe it, you two." Hermione narrowed her eyes, though she was hardly cross. "And you _can_ call him Severus, you know. He's only my fiancé now, after all."

Hermione wouldn't confess it aloud, but she _did_ relish calling Severus just that. It was both strangely inappropriate and couldn't have been better suited all at the same time, not to mention it made her immensely happy to hear.

"No offense, 'Mione, but I really don't think I can..."

"Oh, bollocks. He might disapprove, Harry, but you're both important people in my life, so you might as well converse on a first name basis. It's less awkward and less formal that way."

"Nice try, Hermione," Ginny offered with a humorous shake of her red hair, "but I have to side with Harry on that point. You waited nearly a month to tell us the news, remember?"

"You'll never let me forget it, I'm sure."

"Of course I won't!" Ginny's eyes widened. "How can someone get engaged and _not_ share it for nearly thirty days? You're either just as odd as we've all pegged you as being, or there's something wrong with everyone else."

"I prefer to think the latter, thanks! It was nice having it be just our little secret for a while. Maybe when _you two_ get around to it, you'll feel the same."

Harry went absolutely beet red, and Ginny shied away with a small, feeble smile. "Nice one, 'Mione," Harry muttered, his green eyes turning into slits.

"Well, it's true! You might feel differently at some point, so don't judge."

"I can't believe it," Ginny murmured, turning her hypnotic gaze to the flames dancing in the fireplace.

"You've said that about five times now, Gin," Hermione snickered.

"Sorry, love." Ginny suddenly clapped her hands together excitedly. "Let me see it again!" she squealed.

Hermione willingly indulged her friend and extended her hand out for Ginny to inspect her ring, gawking and whispering and cooing over its shimmer and magnificence. Harry, meanwhile, tried not to roll his eyes at Ginny's animated response.

"You could take notes from this, Harry," Ginny poked him in the side. "This is gorgeous!"

"Yes, well, I haven't the slightest idea what it might have cost him," Hermione stuttered, feeling a little shamefaced. "It - It _is_ beautiful, I agree, and I absolutely love it, only..."

"Only what?" Ginny curled her nose, confused.

"We're a bit financially strapped right now, so..."

"Oh, 'Mione, don't go feeling guilty," Harry snorted at her. "He _wanted_ to give you that ring, so don't even bring it up. Just let it go."

"What?"

"You're just going to insult him, so don't do it. If a bloke loves you enough to put something like _that_ on your finger, leave it alone. He wanted you to have it, 'Mione, so just enjoy it, would you? _Don't scrutinize._"

"I - I wasn't."

Harry and Ginny both shared a boisterous laugh. "Yes, you _were_, Hermione!" Ginny chuckled with another firm shake of her head.

"Fine! I'll stop."

Ginny didn't waste any time when Hermione pulled her hand back, continuing to search her face eagerly for more answers. "So, have you started looking at wedding gowns yet?"

"What? Merlin, no."

Ginny frowned, disappointed. "Why ever not?"

"Because we won't be getting married any time soon, Gin. And we just got engaged. You move fast!"

"What do you mean?" Ginny gaped, still confounded.

"We're in no position financially to pay for a wedding or a honeymoon—"

"Oh, so you _are_ going to have a wedding then?"

"No," Hermione insisted, getting a bit flustered after so much prying. "I'm just saying! We haven't discussed any of that yet."

"Well, you should, dear," came Molly's unexpected voice from behind her, causing Hermione to jump and clutch a hand to her chest.

Mrs. Weasley strolled around the couch and took a seat at her side. Hermione had shared the good news to the rest of the Weasley clan, minus Ron, when she first arrived, waiting for Harry and Ginny to return to the Burrow so she could tell them separately.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. We _will_ discuss it, but, like I said, we can't afford it yet. I'd really like to take my time, and I'd also like to wait 'till Mum and Dad move back and might be able to help me with a few things." Seeing the flicker of hurt in Molly's eyes, which she had already anticipated, Hermione hastily added, "And you, too, Mrs. Weasley. I'd love your involvement."

That seemed to brighten the downcast witch's demeanor, who clasped one of Hermione's hands, beaming with anticipation and excitement. "Oh, wonderful! I'd be delighted to help!"

"Oh, Merlin," Ginny groaned, "I hope you realize what you've just signed up for, Hermione?"

"I have, and it's fine," she returned with a spirited smile.

Molly shifted gears unexpectedly and the topic she touched upon was the last subject Hermione wished to discuss, leaving her dismayed. "I'm afraid Ron won't be in this evening. He's staying with a few chaps in London this weekend."

Hermione eyed Harry conspicuously, bewildered by _that_ bit of news. "Mates in the Auror training program," Harry explained, though his mouth had gone tight.

"Oh... I wasn't aware he was hanging out with new people?"

Harry seemed to go out of his way to ignore Hermione's sober bit of commentary. "Beats me. We don't talk much anymore."

"Oh." Hermione felt slightly uncomfortable now and reared back from Mrs. Weasley, who was looking them all over with a deep-seated frown.

"Ron isn't himself, dear. Arthur and I keep hoping he'll come around, but he's just... He's miserable. Our son's so unhappy with his life, and he's not doing anything to make it any better."

"I see," Hermione whispered, not sure what else to say.

Ginny leaned forward, her arm looped around Harry's again. "Ever since the war ended, I think Ron hasn't come to terms with what to do with his life. For a while, it was all about helping Harry. Then you and Harry figured out relatively quickly what to do with yourselves, but Ron... Well, he's just really unsure, I guess. Lost... Doesn't seem to know _where_ he belongs, exactly."

"Well, we haven't spoken in a while. Not since... Since I confronted him about the interview with Rita Skeeter."

"Which he never apologized to you for," Molly inserted, grating her teeth in disgust. The reprimand in her voice was also clear. "I'm terribly sorry, Hermione. He _should_ speak to you about that. I've encouraged him, but there's only so much I can do. My boy's depressed. He... He hasn't been himself for a very long time."

"Well, tell him I came by, would you?" Though Hermione hated to even ask it of them, she added, with some reluctance, "If you wish to tell him the news, you may. It's not really what I'd like, only, I'm not sure writing him an owl is the appropriate way of breaking this news, and I'm not sure I'm going to get the chance to tell him so in person any time soon either, so..."

"We'll tell him, Hermione," Ginny offered politely, giving her a faint smile. "He... Well, I'm sure you can imagine what his reaction will be."

"Yes, I can." Hermione turned her downcast eyes to the hearth, the fire lighting up her newly sullen features, replacing her joy with sorrow. "I hope someday he can get over it and be happy for me..."

* * *

Hermione hadn't been able to get the conversation about Ron out of her head. To distract herself, she wrote to Neville and Luna and told them her good news, and even considered writing her parents to get their input on how to break things gently to Ron.

Truth be told, she missed the old Ronald Weasley, the young lad used to be such an active part of her life. She missed his goofy grin, his good humor, and his usually pleasant temperament, which all seemed to be nonexistent nowadays. She didn't even realize until she stopped to think on it as she left the Burrow that it had been literally several months since they last spoke. She caught sight of Ron a few times at the Ministry when they were both coming or going, but neither one made eye contact for long or risked approaching the other, and Ron seemed to make a point of ducking and heading in the opposite direction as soon as he caught sight of her.

How long would her old friend continue to avoid her like the plague?

As if her inner conscience had other ideas in mind, an unexpected owl from Ron came about a week and a half later following her visit to the Burrow. It was short, to the point, and its message about as emotionally cryptic to Hermione as could be.

_Hey, Hermione,_

_It's been a long time. Ginny told me the news about your engagement. I'm sorry I missed you, but I was away in London that weekend. It's really been too long since we saw each other, and I don't like the way things were left between us._

_I know you're probably still really pissed at me, but would you consider meeting me for coffee or lunch or drinks, perhaps? Sometime in the next week or so?_

_Ron_

There was no congratulatory remarks, no mention of her fiancé's name, nothing to suggest that he was at all happy for her good fortunate. Hermione sighed her dissatisfaction at such an icy message but wrote off a brief reply of her own before Severus could get wind of the letter.

After all, wasn't her wizard right? This conversation _had_ to take place at some point, and in person was the best—and only—solution, even if the outcome was sketchy.

_Dear Ron,_

_Thanks for writing. It was a really nice surprise to hear from you. And thank you, I'm very excited about this new chapter in my life. I only wish I could have informed you in person, but, well, things between us have been strained. I know you understand._

_I'd be happy to meet and catch up. It _has_ been far too long! How about _The Three Broomsticks_ this coming weekend when we're both off work and have more time? We can meet for dinner and drinks, perhaps? Say, six o'clock?_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

Ron agreed by follow-up owl—another note that was very brisk without mention of Severus or any best wishes—but Hermione knew that any chance of rekindling a friendship was going to take a great deal of time and consideration, starting with discussing this bit of news as gently as possible. Telling Severus that she was planning on meeting up with Ron alone didn't go over well, just as Hermione anticipated, but Severus conceded, and not without making his firm sentiments about the idea known.

"Don't give him the chance to belittle you, Hermione," he snarled through clenched teeth, propping up his pillows as he situated himself more comfortably in bed with Crookshanks curled up at his side. "If he even starts to lose his temper on you or guilt trip you again in any way, excuse yourself and get the hell out of there, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione snickered, shooting him a provocative smile that only caused him to narrow his dark, tired eyes reprimandingly.

"I mean it. There's no use letting him get you upset."

"I know, I know. I shouldn't 'wear my heart on my sleeve,' as you Slytherins so gracefully put it."

"It might do you some good, actually."

"I daresay you're right." Leaning closer on the bed, Hermione reached out to lightly whisk away a few hairs dangling in front of Severus's long eyelashes. "How are you feeling?" she whispered, looking him over thoughtfully.

"Fine," he grumbled, unconvincing and somewhat annoyed.

"Well, that's what you get for not taking the right dosage."

"Are you going?" he hissed, pushing her fussing efforts away with one hand, which only made Hermione laugh harder.

_Adorable man._

"Not just yet. I have a few more minutes to spare."

"Lucky me," he drawled, rolling his eyes as he delicately lay back against his pillows, his eyes falling shut.

"You _are_ lucky, you snide, old git." She continued to stroke his forehead, watching the irritation and harshness slowly dissipate as Severus relaxed into her touch. "Get some rest, love. This shouldn't take too long. I'll probably be back before you know it."

Severus reopened his eyes, gazing at her wearily. "Well, send for me if it gets ugly."

"Absolutely not," she replied through a contented smirk, heartened by his understated gesture of support. "Nice try, you. You need to stay put."

Severus merely gave her a halfhearted smile back, but his underlying apprehensions about her meeting with Ron were apparent. Hermione rose from the bed and bent over him to kiss the top of his head. Severus's concerns didn't waver, but he seemed to calm further at her touch, his shoulders and grip on her hand loosening.

"Try to survive it," he whispered. "Hear him out, say your peace, and go."

He was trying to be encouraging instead of snide, Hermione knew, and she kept her smile intact, kissing him one last time before moving away from the bed. "I'll try," she giggled as she strolled out of the room, Severus's eyes trailing her figure all the way to the door, "but it's going to be awkward as hell, no matter what."

* * *

As Hermione wandered timidly towards The Three Broomsticks, she recalled the last time she and Ron had come there alone, when he had asked to court her in her sixth year, and, at the time, the outcome had been disastrously poor, as far as she was concerned. Being alone with Ron—whenever it did occur since then—had only been incredibly uneasy and strained. Tonight, she suspected, would be no different...

If Hermione were being honest with herself, she was still quite hurt over _The Daily Prophet_ incident, but being angry and disgruntled for this long was proving unhealthy, to her way of thinking. _If he apologies, then forgive him, Hermione_, she kept telling herself all the way to the restaurant, gearing herself up for numerous possibilities of how this conversation could go. _Time to move forward. Try to move things forward, even if he resists..._

"Hey, 'Mione," she was greeted by Ron after spotting him inside, awkwardly shifting his weight back and forth as she approached him at a booth in the corner. He was a bit red in the face, his blue eyes dodging her by looking all about the room without focusing much on her at all.

_This is going to be great_, she groaned inwardly.

"Hey, Ron."

Hermione made the first move and ungracefully leaned in for a hug. His arms touched her for a split second before he stumbled backward out of her reach.

Was he drunk? Hermione eyed him over cautiously, studying his odd behavior. He didn't sound wasted, and there was a half-consumed Butterbeer already on the table, not enough to get the ginger plastered just yet.

"Want a Butterbeer?" he asked, as if reading her mind.

"Erm, yeah, sure," she conceded and sat down whilst he went to fetch her drink.

When Ron returned soon after and slid into the bench across from her, he repeated shifting his eyes every which way but in her direction. _This is going to be more awkward than I reckoned_, Hermione reflected with some perceivable disappointment. She seized a quiet moment to sip her Butterbeer, not even realizing that Ron had immediately focused in on her engagement ring.

"Blimey," he muttered, gaining Hermione's swift attention. "That's, um, quite a jewel you got there..."

"Oh!" Hermione blushed and laid down her cup. "Yes, it is." She gazed at it admirably, smiling despite herself. "I love it..."

"He did well," Ron additionally mumbled, not sounding at all pleased for her. He took a swig of his Butterbeer without further address.

"Yes, he did." Hermione eyed her former friend, who was clearly struggling to be cordial. "How've you been?" she tried to break the ice with a question of her own.

"I'm all right. You?"

"Well, thank you..."

"That's good."

"Erm, how's the Auror training going?"

"Well, you've been speaking to Harry, haven't you?" Hermione solemnly nodded. "Then you already know."

Hermione frowned and tried not to lose her temper. "I'd rather hear how _you're_ doing, Ron, and from your own mouth."

Ron shrugged off her interest, however. "It's all right. I'm struggling with some of the training. It's all picky rubbish, if you ask me. I fought in the battle, shouldn't that count for something?"

"Oh... Well, yes, it should."

"Harry's doing bloody fantastic." Hermione could easily detect that _that_ wasn't as much a compliment as a snub. "But then, he's the ruddy hero who can do no wrong."

"Ron..."

The ginger waved her look of concern away with one dismissive hand. "Anyway, I'm looking forward to moving out soon; thinking of getting a flat with some mates in London."

"Oh, that's great, Ron," Hermione lied; she hadn't a clue who these new chums of his were, and not being privy somewhat upset her. "Congrats."

"Thanks." He paused, eying her up and down with weighty consideration. "So you and Snape..." he finally spoke after a stifling pause.

Hermione smiled as warmly as possible. "Yes, I know. A bit of a surprise to everyone, but—"

"That's an understatement."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, we've been together for quite a while now..."

"Well before the rest of us knew about it," Ron sputtered back with a fresh pout that irked Hermione enough to narrow her eyes.

"Are you_ still_ cross about that?"

"No."

"Well, good, because you've known for nearly a year now."

"What difference does _that_ make?"

"_A lot_, in my book. I would think you'd be over it by now."

"I just said it doesn't bother me."

"You sure sound like you're bothered."

Ron met her challenge with a cold glare and mocking tone. "How would you like me to sound?"

"I have yet to get a 'congratulations,' for starters, which would be considerate, if not kind!"

Ron's jaw clenched as he spewed out a muffled "Congratulations," and turned away from her to sip his Butterbeer.

Hermione couldn't help but grimace, even if she had anticipated such a response. "Ron... Can you really not be the least bit happy for me?"

"Sorry, I'm trying," came his blunt reply that emotionally stung her to hear. "It's hard though, even now."

"Ron..."

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't come here to make you feel bad, 'Mione. _Honest._"

Hermione took a calculated breath. "Neither did I."

"I... I miss our friendship. I miss _us._"

"I - I know," she found herself confessing quietly. "I do, too. Only..."

"Only what?"

Hermione gripped onto her bench, having mentally prepared herself for this moment. "Your speaking to Rita Skeeter about Severus and me... That was low, Ron. _Really shallow of you._"

Ron, already flushed, went bright red, and, for a minute, he couldn't speak. Hermione could see the lines of shame surfacing on his face, which was admittedly a relief. At least it wasn't fury but, rather, guilt.

"I know... I - I was hurt. It's not an excuse, but I was furious. In many ways, I still am."

"Ron..."

"I mean, _it's Snape_," he continued with what sounded like disbelief. "Perhaps if it was a bloke closer to our age, or someone who wasn't as all out nasty to us as he was, I could accept him. It's just...hard."

"I'm sorry, Ron—"

"No," he interrupted, projecting a saddened scowl. "_I'm_ sorry. As angry as I was, as much as I don't understand whatever the bloody hell this is between you and," he twisted up his face, as if he had tasted something foul, "_him_, it wasn't right of me."

"I... Well, thank you for apologizing. I appreciate that."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't change the fact that I _am_ still really hung up on you." Hermione was floored by such a forward statement that she turned away, visibly shaken and uncomfortable. Taking note of her awkwardness, Ron grumbled, "I guess that's not something you want to hear."

"I..." Hermione squirmed in her seat. "No, not really."

"Why not?" he challenged, making her cheeks radiate more heat.

"Because I'm _engaged_, Ron!"

"So what?"

"So show a little respect!"

"_Respect?_"

"Yes!"

"I think you deserve better! I think you deserve _me!_ That's why I said it!"

"Stop it, Ron!" Hermione quickly cast her eyes to her crumpled hands in her lap, staring intently at the shimmering diamond on her fourth finger with more passion than ever. "I was hoping we wouldn't do this..."

"Do what?"

Hermione reluctantly met his freshly hostile gaze. "Argue."

"I didn't think we were?"

"You aren't being very nice, Ron..."

"I'm sorry!" he snorted, taking another swig of his drink. "I'm just tired. Been working a lot and getting little sleep."

"I know that's_ not_ it, Ron. Don't insult me like I'm an idiot."

"So, how'd he do it?" the young man chastised, placing his elbows firmly on the table. They hadn't even looked at the menus yet, but Hermione could already gather that this wasn't going to be a real sit down meal after all, despite all her better hopes. "Did he get down on one knee? Was he even romantic or did he make some cool, snarky remark that you fanned over?"

"Don't be insulting, Ron!" she chided him with as much patience as she could muster. "Not to me, nor Severus. Neither of us deserves that. Be a gentleman for _once_, would you?"

_That_ remark seemed to hit a sensitive nerve somewhere. Ron flinched and reared back a little, his mouth still cast in a tight grimace.

"I'm just inquiring as to how he proposed."

"You don't _really_ want to know, Ron, and I'm not interested in your rude commentary that will surely follow if I tell you, so let's move on, shall we?"

Ron ignored her and pressed, "When's the wedding?" to which Hermione blinked hard, flustered.

"I - I'm not sure. We haven't discussed that yet."

"Soon though, right?"

"No... We can't afford to get married right now, so probably not for at least a year."

Ron tapered his eyebrows. "Then why get engaged?"

"_Why not?_" Hermione fired back, inching closer and gritting her teeth. "We've been together for two years, and our feelings haven't changed. We love each other, and we're committed."

"I still think it's odd to get engaged before you can afford to do so."

"It isn't about finances, Ron. It's about where we're at in our relationship."

"Well, good luck to you," he responded in haste, raising his mostly consumed glass towards her and waiting on her to do the same. "Cheers."

Hesitantly, and confounded by his mixture of emotions, which had ranged from rage to cordiality and back again, Hermione hesitantly met his toast, stricken when Ron nearly slammed his glass into hers, spilling froth onto her pants. He didn't seem to notice and brought the rest of his Butterbeer to his lips to consume in one gulp.

Hermione didn't drink hers, however, and lowered it to the table, peering over at her friend dolefully. "I wish you would start behaving like yourself again," she whispered before she could stop herself.

Ron eyed her questioningly. "Huh?"

"You haven't been yourself since... Since your brother died."

Ron's reaction was immediate and heated. "What would _you_ know about _that?_ We haven't seen each other in months!"

"I can tell just by sitting here with you that you've changed, and not for the better..."

"_Oh?_"

"Yes," she issued patiently, desperate to reach her one-time good friend. "You're so angry, Ron... I wish you would deal with your problems already. You're only hurting everyone around you."

"_What?_" he hissed, glaring at her anew.

"I understand you're upset about a lot of things. We're all trying to cope with the end of the war in our own way—"

"Don't speak to me about coping!" he interrupted, his temper flaring to almost epic proportions. "You didn't lose a family member! You have no idea what that's like!"

"In all fairness, Ron," Hermione continued, trying to stay calm, "I nearly lost Severus. I actually _do_ understand what that feels like... I got a taste of it myself."

_And I might_ still _lose him_, she wanted to add but relented.

"Bullshit! It's _not_ the same thing!"

"I beg to differ..."

"Fine!" he growled. "Believe whatever makes you feel better about your decisions."

"My decisions?"

"You know what I mean!"

"I won't go into that again, Ron. I already explained to you my position, and I won't keep justifying it."

"Good! I'd prefer you spare me anyhow."

"This was a mistake," Hermione muttered and abruptly rose from her bench, causing Ron to startle in his seat. The tears in her eyes also didn't escape his notice.

"What? Wait!"

"I'm leaving." Hermione gathered up her coat and scarf in a hurry, not even looking at Ron anymore but at her mostly unconsumed Butterbeer.

"No... Wait..." His plea was weak, his voice not forceful like it had been only seconds before, but it didn't sway Hermione, who projected a disappointed scowl his way.

"I would have appreciated a sincere apology after that stunt you pulled for the papers. I guess I shouldn't have held my breath this long."

"Oh... But—"

"Get in touch with me again once you're feeling more like yourself, Ron, and once you've gotten past this."

"'Mione—"

"I'm happy!" she blurted out, pain and fury eminent in her voice. "I'm engaged and _I'm happy_, and I won't let you tear me down like you have in the past! That's over and done with! Do you hear me? I won't put up with it anymore!"

"'Mione, wait! I - I _meant_ my apology. Honest!"

"I don't think we should see each other anymore," she whispered, her tears now starting to fall.

Ron rattled where he sat, his blue eyes enlarging as they looked up at her. "What? _Why?_"

"Because you only bring me down every time I see you."

"I... I don't mean to, 'Mione. I really don't!"

"Well, if that's the case, then that's something you need to work on. Until you make an effort, though, we shouldn't talk. It's no good for either of us."

"But... But I thought..."

"I hope you feel better, Ron." Hermione sadly turned to leave but twirled around on her heel before disappearing, another wounded thought coming to her mind. "And I hope eventually you can find it in your heart to be happy for me. I deserve that much from you."

Ron didn't say anything, only stared on after the curly-haired, weeping witch as she decidedly took her leave, burying her face in her scarf to muffle her soft cries of hurt. She burst through the door and trod out into the blanket of snow, shivering against the unforgivable cold that hit her skin.

Fearing Ron might work up the nerve to follow, Hermione quickened her pace, but it was for naught. Ron's voice could soon be heard over the chilly night air, calling—begging—for her to stop. She reluctantly conceded but refused to turn around.

Ron's frame soon came into view, huffing and puffing as he reached her side and grabbed her lightly by the arm. "'Mione, wait!" he breathed heavily. "_Please, wait!_ I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're right, I've been a real git."

"Ron—"

"Wait, _please_ hear me out. You were right. It's all true," he shocked her by admitting. "I _am_ pissed at the world. I'm pissed at losing you, I'm pissed at losing my brother, I'm pissed about everything that happened in this war, and how everyone seems to have no bloody problem moving past it but me...

"I... I've been a prat, 'Mione. You don't deserve how I've been treating you. I just... I can't help that I'm still in love with you, all right?" Hermione startled and shakily stepped back, causing Ron to reach out and grab her by the arms. "I don't mean to frighten you, 'Mione. I _want_ to move past my feelings for you, I do! I thought that by staying away from you for a while it might help things along, but it hasn't. If anything, it makes me miss you even more...

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, 'Mione. I just... I still need time is all. And the whole reason I really wanted to meet with you was to give our friendship another chance. _I want you in my life, 'Mione._ You've always been there for me, and I miss our friendship. I hate not seeing you anymore; not hanging out and having a good time like we used to—"

"Ron, please—"

"—and I want to be your friend, 'Mione. Even..." He took an unsteady breath, and his face contorted into an expression of pain Hermione had rarely seen. "Even if that's all I can be to you. If that's the only chance I have, then I want it. _I want to be friends._"

Ron finally fell silent, and, realizing he was still clutching Hermione's arms tightly, he abruptly removed his grip and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, waiting. Hermione felt as frozen as the chill on her face, and it took her a moment to collect herself and formulate a reply, one laden with reluctance.

"Ron, I - I want a friendship with you, too. I just don't know that it's such a good idea—"

"_Please, 'Mione!_" his voice was more desperate than it had ever sounded to her recollection, shaking her to her foundation.

"Listen, Ron, I love you like a brother. A part of me will always love you." She narrowed her eyes, finding the courage within to speak truer than she ever had to him in the past. "But I will _never_ be able to love you the way that you want me to. I've made that perfectly clear to you already.

"We can never go back to the way things were, Ron. None of us can. Too much has happened, too much has changed for all of us to go back... You're just having a much harder time of it than most—"

"I can change, 'Mione!" he insisted with feeling, his face urgently searching hers. "_I can!_ I want to! I'll try my bloody hardest, all right?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Hermione's frown grew heavier. "Ron, if you can't accept Severus, then you can't accept me..." Making a point of putting it more delicately, she pressed, "He's a part of my life now. He's a part of _me._ You're continued insults and rejection of him will only push me further and further away... Do you understand that?"

"I..." Ron fumbled momentarily, his lower lip quivering as he forced out a compliant, "Yes, I do. I... I understand."

"I mean it, Ron. If you can't at the very least accept my decision, try to be happy for me, and keep from insulting him to my face, then we can't move forward. It's as simple as that. I can't listen to it anymore, and I can't afford to have people in my life who would wish me _or_ Severus ill. I won't do it."

"I... I don't wish you ill, 'Mione. I don't wish _him_ ill either, really. I mean, I don't like him, and I probably never will; it's just all coming out wrong the way I've handled things. I've lashed out, and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry, 'Mione. _I truly am._ Please give me another shot. _Please?_"

Hermione regarded her one-time close friend soberly, searching his freckled face for the honesty she needed so badly. Sensing that he was being sincere, or, at the very least, making a conscious effort, Hermione sighed her reservations away and stepped closer.

"All right," she whispered and placed a hand on his arm. "I'll give you one more chance, Ron; but make no mistake, I can't do _this_ anymore. Things have been too emotionally trying over the past few years for me to go through this all over again—"

"It_ won't_ happen again, 'Mione," Ron reached out and clung to her, desperate to be heard. "I promise. I'm going to try. I _really_ am."

"Good, I... I'm glad to hear that, Ron." Viewing the encouragement the poor bloke yearned for, Hermione tentatively wrapped him up in a hug, one that he readily returned. "Thank you."

"You, too," he said back in a painful sort of whisper that flew away on the winter breeze.

Hermione swiftly unlocked herself from their embrace and forced a smile. It hadn't gone as well as she had hoped, but it was a start. Ron was seemingly very willing to try and rebuild their friendship. As long as his efforts continued to be sincere, Hermione would willingly give it one more go.

"Well, I - I should get going."

Ron showcased his disappointment. "Oh... You don't still want to get a bite?"

"No, I really shouldn't. I need to get back." She was going to say 'to check on Severus' but refrained.

"Oh, all right, well..."

"Some other time?"

Her kind offer brightened the ginger a little, who shot her his trademark goofy grin, one that she had missed terribly. "Yeah, sure. Let me know when's good for you? Maybe we could get coffee next time?"

"All right, that would be nice."

The two said their awkward goodbyes, as well as shared another strained hug, but Hermione felt her spirits surprisingly lifting as she made her way down the street to Disapparate. _He's trying_, she reflected with a soft smile. _He genuinely wants to try to make things better. We'll see. Harry should be happy to hear about this. Maybe it'll even force a conversation between the two of them, too? Merlin, I hope so. Severus, on the other hand..._

Hermione was just turning a corner when she collided with something—someone—solid and stumbled backwards. The person reached out to steady her, and when her shocked eyes met the individual in question, they spread wide at the sight of familiar raven hair and a billowing cloak.

"_Severus!_"

"I was just on my way to The Three Broomsticks," came that deep, mistrustful growl that she loved, "but it would seem I shouldn't have bothered?"

Severus's face was paler than usual, his eyes weary with pronounced bags underneath. Hermione, though taken aback, found her footing and reprimanded him accordingly.

"Were you intending to spy on me?"

"Not exactly," he replied with a suggestive smirk.

"Then _what_ exactly?"

"I was going to wait outside; see if you needed me when you came out."

"_For the next several hours?_"

"Possibly."

"Severus, it's bloody freezing out here!"

"So?"

"What if we had chatted for a lot longer than you were anticipating? You were seriously going to sit out here in the cold all evening?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" Severus gathered his heavy, wool coat and wrapped it more securely around himself, his cloak peaking out from underneath, and ignored her blatant concerns. "It's not_ that_ unbearable out here."

"Severus..."

"I just wanted to ensure that you were all right, that's all. I had no intention of disrupting things."

Hermione knew Severus was being truthful, judging by his gentle countenance, and she brought her wizard into a snug embrace that warmed them both. "That's so ridiculously sweet of you," she smiled, rubbing her cheek affectionately against his chest.

"Don't even start—"

"And very unwise, too," she reproached over him. "You should be resting, you stubborn sod, not standing out here in the wretched snow!"

"I'm not entirely useless, Hermione."

"That's not at all what I was suggesting, and you know it."

"Even so," he growled, burying his face in her mass of untamed curls that seemed to engulf his face.

Hermione rested her chin against his chest and peered up at him curiously, giving him a thoughtful smile. Just when she anticipated needing him most, he had appeared right out of thin air. It was exactly the sort of solace her heart had been searching for since leaving the restaurant. He really _did_ know her far too well, she concluded with silent endearment.

"I love you," she stated quietly, extending her smile and reaching onto her tip toes to meet his mouth, now freezing.

"You'd better," he returned when the affectionate moment passed, his half-cocked smirk making her chest flutter. "How did it go?"

"Not well at first. He's still hung up on me and not at all happy or supportive, but he wants to try to be. I cut things off between us initially, but he surprised me. I think slowly, but surely, he's growing up."

"You mean _growing a pair_," Severus corrected with a dark sneer.

"Stop it, Severus," she scolded through playful, batty eyes. She inclined her neck to kiss his lips again, enamored by his earnest response. "C'mon, let's get you out of this cold. This isn't good for you. Obstinate arse."

Severus griped under his breath as they made their way down a snow-covered street, their arms looped together, leaning into one another for support. The night hadn't gone the way Hermione had wished, but she would continue to hold out hope that Ron would come around, and right the errors of his ways.

_How things have changed_, Hermione considered, her reflections bittersweet as they Apparated back to Spinner's End.

Only a year or so ago, Hermione would never have imagined that Ron wouldn't be in her life, while Severus Snape—a wizard who had once been so verbally cruel to she and her friends—would, instead, become the permanent fixture in her every day; her rock, her best friend, her companion for life. Not everything was as she would like it to be, but Hermione knew for certain that having Severus was, after tonight, even more meaningful and important to her than ever.

* * *

March came quicker than the blink of an eye, and the day of Severus's informal gathering with the Board of the Governors soon arrived, unwanted and unavoidable. If Severus had been any grumpier, Hermione would have nearly thought he had reverted back to his old habits. The morning of, he was in a foul temper that didn't lighten, no matter what Hermione said or did to combat his negativity. He had something morbid to shoot down any attempts at positivity, much to her growing annoyance.

After breakfast, Hermione lingered at the kitchen table, knowing full well that she would probably be late for work, but she wasn't about to leave Severus in this sort of state—not with this nerve-racking meeting just an hour or so away, and with the wizard acting as sour and put out as he was.

"You don't really want to approach everyone acting like this, do you?" she berated him as gently as possible, though it did nothing for his glum attitude.

"How would you suggest?" he growled through his teeth. "I may not have a job after all. I consorted with an underage student. I kissed you and took advantage of you—"

"Severus, nothing happened while you were my professor—"

"I made out with you several times, you may recall."

Hermione couldn't stop the bashful smile that spread across her rosy cheeks. "That's harmless."

"Harmless?" Severus snorted. "In the teaching world, that's considered a grave violation, Hermione."

"So, would you take it all back, in that case?"

Severus swiftly turned away from her, his scowl critical and severe, but his dark eyes less so. "No, of course I wouldn't," he grumbled, sending her into fits of giggles.

"Then there you have it."

"Hermione, we _need_ this job. You do realize that, don't you?"

"Of course I do; but if they aren't going to respect you, then I'd rather see you wait it out and find something better."

"We've discussed this. There are no other jobs on the horizon."

"I know, I know." Hermione sighed and shook her head. "Well, anyway, just don't go there ready to shoot your mouth off, would you?"

Severus curled his upper lip. "What makes you say that?"

"Because I know how you can get when you're infuriated and backed into a corner!" Hermione shot back through more good humor, which assuaged his position, if only a little.

"Very well."

"Let me know how it goes, all right?"

"You'll know soon enough."

"Don't be aggravating." Hermione stalked over to his side of the table to say her goodbyes, livened when the tension surrounding them eased with her small dose of affection, which Severus matched, deepening the kiss between them. "It'll be fine," she tried to reassure him, sensing the reservations that lay behind those colorless eyes.

"We'll see," was all he returned, giving her hand a small squeeze before she reluctantly took her leave, not feeling at all confident about how this day might end.

If Severus couldn't secure his position back at the school, not only would they be stuck back at square one again, but the touchy wizard's attitude, Hermione feared, would also take a nose dive. As much as she disliked the idea of being separated, she didn't want Severus to be miserable and twiddling his thumbs day after day on her account. It would only bring him misery at not being able to make himself useful, _and then where would we be?_

Reserving her worries for later, Hermione entered the atrium to the Ministry of Magic with the intent of distracting herself with as much work as she possibly could for the remainder of her day.


	62. After Marriage Comes Children?

**A/N: _Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 62: After Marriage Comes Children?**

Severus was surprised to still be granted access to Hogwarts via Apparation. That was, naturally, McGonagall's doing, but it still shocked him, nevertheless. Why was the woman being so unfailingly kind to him as of late? Their previous conversation about his return to the school had been cordial enough, if not strained on both ends. Hermione was hardly discussed, though Severus made a point of throwing in the news of their engagement for good measure, just to see the stringent, former Head of Gryffindor House twitch and squirm.

_Whatever_, Severus snarled as he climbed the steps to the second level of the castle, feeling quite strange about being back after the lapse of nearly a year away.

It felt like only yesterday the notorious former Headmaster had been wandering the corridors at night, going about his nightly patrols, watching over the hundreds upon hundreds of students who despised him—_and rightfully so!_

Today, as he made his way down a narrow corridor on the west side of the castle, Severus ran into several Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs, all of whom gasped, gaped, and shied away from the wizard in black the moment he and his dangerous billowing robes came into view. It wasn't unexpected. Most of them were returning students Severus recognized. Several younger girls actually dropped their books and ran, much to his personal dissatisfaction. Not that Severus cared that any one of them were afraid or intimidated by his presence, only that they were so startled that they felt compelled to run, when he hadn't so much as drawn his wand or showed any indication of causing them bodily harm outside of a glare.

Severus breathed a weary sigh and simply kept his relentless pace, ignoring those he passed and the incessant, excited whispers that followed him down various corridors until he reached an abandoned classroom at the far end of a long hallway. He could hear an assortment of fussing and irritating chatter seeping through the stone wall and gripped the door handle tight.

Pausing for one calculated breath, Severus swung the door open and strolled inside, his mask of indifference firmly in place as he took in the sight of at least eight wizards and two witches that made up the Board of Governors. McGonagall was seated at the far end of a long, rectangular table, and sandwiched in between everyone else was Flitwick, Sprout, and the new Head of Gryffindor House and Transfiguration instructor, Aberforth Dumbledore, who greeted Severus with a surprisingly friendly turn of his head.

"Ahhh, Severus," McGonagall greeted with warmth the unfortunate wizard wasn't accustomed to.

Severus stiffened, giving a curt nod to the entire room, though he only addressed the Headmistress. "Minerva."

"Please, have a seat," she motioned to the opposite end of the table, where one lonely chair was placed.

The room had gone eerily quiet by the time Severus took his spot at the table, but he showed no signs of uneasiness as everyone openly scrutinized him with little regard for how he felt, staring with a mixture of unabashed curiosity and hostility. This wasn't going to go over well, that much was certain to the former Headmaster.

_Not that I bloody well care_, he growled internally.

"Well, you all know why we're here," McGonagall began, bringing the meeting to order. "Severus Snape recently reaccepted his position as Potions professor and Head of Slytherin House at my suggestion. You've all had time to view the memories from Mr. Potter—"

_What the hell?_ Severus's eyes gleamed, showcasing his fleeting shock before it passed just as quickly.

"—regarding Severus's actions and services to the school, to Dumbledore, and to the war effort. I understand you still have a few matters that you wish to address, so why don't we get started." She turned her pointed hat towards a man who had to be around Severus's age, with a tightly trimmed goatee and wavy, brown locks. "Mr. Bramson, would you like to begin?"

"Certainly, Headmistress," the man grunted in a deep, authoritative baritone. "As you all know, Governors, my family has been in Ravenclaw for centuries. My son, Geoffrey, is currently a fourth year and had Master Snape here for Potions since the start of his studies. He was also present last year, against my better wishes, under Master Snape's brief reign as Headmaster, and I must say I'm appalled at how that situation was handled. Many of you had children or grandchildren who attended last year, so you know the gravity of which I speak. The student body was reprimanded by and large unnecessarily, tortured beyond what is considered justifiable forms of punishment, and put through hell by _that_ dangerous man sitting there."

He pointed an accusatory finger directly at Severus; it didn't make the rigid wizard flinch one bit, though inwardly his blood was already reaching a boiling point.

"I think your suggestion of letting this unfit individual return to teach our children a peculiar and unwarranted action, Headmistress. After the crimes he's committed—regardless of their intentions—he _shouldn't_ be allowed to step foot into this school at all!"

"With all due respect, Bramson," McGonagall butt in with her hands slightly raised, "you've seen the memories of what Severus was, in actuality, _doing_ the whole time he was Headmaster. It was never his intention to harm the students, and he did his best to ensure that they weren't reprimanded too harshly by the Carrows. As a matter of fact, Severus often pushed students' detentions onto us so that they might fair far better—"

"That doesn't change the fact that he still took part in those severe punishments many a time!" another wizard about the same age as Bramson shouted, also pointing a finger at Severus.

"Exactly," agreed a scrawny witch with heavy, dark makeup. "You've seen the papers. The school has come under terrible scrutiny for the re-employment of Master Snape here, and rightfully so. None of the parents are confident in our abilities to lead this school forward in the right direction, not with the option _you've_ presented them with, Minerva. This board isn't confident in it either. We all have our justified concerns."

"I understand your reservations, Riona," McGonagall bowed her head respectfully, "but we all know the true circumstances, which is why I took the liberty of appointing Severus at all. I see no reason why he should—"

"Would you prefer to see the school come under _more_ unnecessary scrutiny because of this man's reputation?" an elderly man with a long, grey beard haughtily chimed in. "Hasn't his image already tarnished this school _enough?_"

There was an echo of agreement around the table, though Severus noted that Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and Dumbledore were mute and unresponsive by comparison. He hadn't set eyes on any of them since the night of the final battle and had expected more unpleasant reactions than what he was getting at present.

The small Head of Ravenclaw House raised his arm, squeaking, "If I may, I've known Master Snape ever since he was a wee student here, and I can vouch for his decency and effectiveness both as a teacher _and_ as a Head of House."

Severus hadn't anticipated _that_ compliment at all. The professor's vote in his favor might have been more touching, if Severus wasn't well over this whole exhaustive affair about his questionable reputation by now. There were several people that began speaking loudly, talking over one another excitedly as McGonagall tried to bring the meeting back to order.

Severus watched the scene unfold with disguised amusement. Who would have thought his mere presence could rile up respectable individuals such as these distinguished gentlemen and ladies, who were uncharacteristically throwing their fists in their air, waring shouting matches, or pointing at him like a bunch of ineffective ingrates? The only individuals who weren't losing their minds were the Hogwarts professors themselves, including the new Head of Gryffindor House, who, aside from Severus, seemed to be quite enjoying the uproar.

"Might I speak?" Severus interjected after watching them for several more minutes. His deep growl of a command silenced the room immediately, and those who had gotten to their feet fell back into their chairs, eying the misunderstood wizard with overt skepticism.

"Of course, Severus," McGonagall encouraged, looking quite frazzled at this point.

"Thank you." He cleared his throat but remained austere and serious. "As most of you have already so colorfully pointed out, yes, I did, indeed, partake in the unagreeable acts of the 1997-1998 school term. I was working as a double agent at the time, and if I hadn't gone to the lengths that I had, I'd be a dead man—not that anyone here would weep my loss—but it's the truth. In order to ensure that I remained in the Dark Lord's favor, and so as not to have those on either side suspicious of my intentions, I readily played along.

"I reprimanded many children more severely than I should have or would have liked. I gave them detentions with other staff members whenever possible, because I understood that at least then they would be treated fairly. If I needed to step in whenever the Carrows were concerned, I did so to avoid much worse maltreatment that those punishable would surely receive at the hands of those two deranged idiots. If you would have preferred that the Carrows use the Cruciatus Curse on your son, Mr. Bramson, or any of the other students, for that matter, rather than receiving one of my own leg locks jinxes, muffling charms, or far less severe forms of punishment, then, by all means, speak up now or forever shut your mouths."

Without pausing for breath, Severus pressed with understated aggravation, "I won't continue to make excuses for my actions, nor will I continue to address them 'till the end of time. I did what was necessary to survive—to help Potter, to inform the Order—and I shall be forced to stand by those hard decisions whether they adhere to your personal beliefs or not 'till the day I _do_ die. I see no point in this wasteful argument about my tarnished reputation. I shall not convince any of you of who I really am, nor do I really wish to persuade those who've already condemned me.

"My only concern is the welfare of this school, which I've devoted my entire adult life to. I have no wish to bring this school under further disrepute because of my unpopular actions in the past. I don't have a political agenda, I'm not interested in apologizing anymore, and, by all accounts, I shouldn't even be here right now." The disturbing pause that followed caused many in the room to stir uncomfortably in their chairs, including McGonagall. "Since you are all so hell bent on ensuring that I _not_ return to this school, let's get straight to another matter you're all salivating over to discuss in more obsessive detail—"

"Severus," McGonagall tried to stop the testy Slytherin, but he plunged ahead and ignored her efforts.

"—Hermione Granger."

Severus waited, willing anyone who dared to speak up, but the mere mention of the young witch's name—_his_ young witch—only made them all wiggle awkwardly. It was just the sort of uneasy response the snarky wizard enjoyed and prepared himself for. He smiled devilishly, no longer giving a damn how these individuals perceived him, or if it cost him the position he was so desperately after.

_Fuck it_, his conscience cursed defiantly.

"As most of you have already gathered on your own, I began romantic relations with Miss Granger at the end of her sixth year. During the course of term, we struck up a friendship that only became something more later in the year, and only after I made repeated attempts to ignore and suppress my feelings. I fought her efforts as best as I could, but, ultimately, I failed. Miss Granger isn't to blame for any of what happened between us that year. The fault is mine and mine alone. I was her teacher, and, yes, I'm well aware that I abused that trust in the end.

"Nothing sexual ever occurred whilst Miss Granger and I were at Hogwarts together, and she didn't return for her final year. You already know that she and Potter were off searching for Hocruxes that entire time, so I won't bother relating the details of that to you. I will only say that, if I am to be charged with any violation of trust, it was snogging and embracing Miss Granger in a manner that was entirely inappropriate during her sixth year."

Relishing how several members flinched or made disgruntled faces at such a notion, Severus pressed on, "Miss Granger and I are in a steady relationship, and if one of your elaborate schemes is to force me to break my ties with Miss Granger in order to secure my position again at this school, then I'm afraid you're shit out of luck. It won't happen. I only recently proposed to Miss Granger, and she said yes, so we're quite serious."

There were audible grumbles of disapproval and disparaging, undertone remarks to this shocking news, none of which Severus paid any mind to. "I don't care what any one of you think of me. As far as I'm concerned, she's the best thing that's ever happened to me in my lonely, miserable existence, and I won't let that be destroyed by a few sexually frustrated members of this board."

"_Severus!_" McGonagall gasped. Aberforth Dumbledore, however, full out grinned, a twinkle in his eyes making its way across the table to Severus, who continued without pause.

"If I return here, Miss Granger _will_ still be very much in the picture and in my life. If that's the straw that breaks the camel's back for the rest of you, then I'm content to part ways and never enter this school again. But make no mistake, Governors: I have let every move of my entire life be controlled by others. Now that this war is over, I _never_ intend to go back to playing the ruddy puppet. No one pulls my strings anymore. _No one._ None of you will ever possess that luxury, so either stomp it out of your foolish heads now and accept it, or send me packing. My sentiments are clear, so I suggest you all move this tedious get-together along. If I haven't a prayer of getting this position back, I wish to be on my merry way and not have any more of my precious time wasted on any of you."

Severus's intense eyes swept the room. Most were dumbfounded by his long-winded speech, resolve, and forthright response. Others, such as the professors, were staring at him with undisclosed enjoyment, which did admittedly surprise him still. Perhaps it was only on account of him throwing his bowl back at the powers-that-be who had the potential to feed him, but then, Severus didn't give a damn who was or wasn't on his side. Not anymore. None of these self-satisfied prats mattered, as far as he was concerned.

McGonagall grunted to regain everyone's focus. "Um, well, everyone, I have to concur with Severus. I don't see the point in laboring over these matters to death. I've already spoken to Severus at length. I've also spoken to each of you individually. You saw the memories, you know the truth, and you've been relayed a dissertation from the man's own mouth. So, what is it?"

Severus took delight in the stiff witch's unusual brand of outspokenness. It was an amusing change from her usual tight-lipped demeanor and was rarely ever on display for so many to see.

"Have there been any additional candidates?" one of the governors asked, to which McGonagall shook her head.

"I'm afraid not. That's why I took the liberty of hiring Severus. Besides, he's the best candidate for the position, and you all very well know it."

Further undecipherable discouragement came from those around the table. Severus couldn't help but smirk, feeling somewhat smug about the dire situation the governors found themselves in. Even _he_ was taken aback that there were no other candidates in line, something McGonagall had informed him of only recently when they met in Hogsmeade.

"It would seem that, for the time being, we haven't any choice," one of the governors groused; a burdensome sigh echoed around the room at the reality of the situation.

"Then if I might make a suggestion?" a younger member—a woman—insisted, raising her hand to get everyone's attention. "I suggest that Master Snape be routinely observed throughout the year. If, by the end of term, there have been no issues that have arisen in response to his teaching methods, he can officially regain the position."

Severus projected a threatening glare that caused more than a few ruffled reactions. "I beg your pardon?" he whispered in an icy tone.

"That's _more_ than reasonable, Master Snape," Mr. Bransom insisted.

"_Reasonable?_" Severus gave a grisly hiss. "I have been a Hogwarts professor for sixteen years!"

"Take it or leave it, Master Snape!" an elderly gentleman who addressed him earlier snapped. "You can either accept the terms, which I think all the governors here think are more than fair, or you can search for employment elsewhere."

"Severus," McGonagall spoke up just as Severus was about to rise from his chair and barge out of the room, "consider it. _Please._ A regular evaluation isn't so bad. We all went through them our first years in the field. You're an exceptional instructor. You have nothing to fear."

Severus snarled and turned away, showcasing evidence of his dissatisfaction despite his best efforts to not let them see. "If this is the way of the board, I am most disappointed," he drawled, emphasizing his disdain; he knew, however, that there was nothing for it. When his mind wandered to Hermione, he was resolved to do what was best for him and for her. "Very well," he consented.

"Might I make one more suggestion?" another older wizard with a pointed blue hat and spectacles raised his arm. "I think Master Snape's end-of-term marks should be public knowledge."

"_What?_" Severus snapped before he could stop himself.

"Mr. Leveson, that is most disadvantageous," McGonagall quickly piped in. "Hasn't Severus agreed to enough—"

"Minerva, I'm thinking of the insinuations that have been making _The Daily Prophet._ Why not make his marks public knowledge? If they're favorable, some of the disrepute this school has fallen under may be lifted. We don't just have your dear Potions Master's reputation to think of, but the school's as well."

McGonagall turned to Severus, trying not to showcase too much empathy, knowing full well her colleague would absolutely despise her for it. "What do you say, Severus?" she asked with hesitance.

There was an excruciating pause before Severus conceded in a low murmur that bordered on loss of control. As swiftly as he gave his answer, however, he rose from his chair, startling them all.

"I've suffered enough humiliation at your expense," he growled, meeting each one of their faces with severe dislike. "I will take my leave."

"But we're not through yet!" one of them informed him; or whined, rather.

Severus, who was already progressing to the door, bowed respectfully only to McGonagall. "My apologies, Minerva. Good day."

With that, Severus stalked out of the confined room, making a point of slamming the wooden door behind him. The sound ricocheted around the room, sending everyone into animated chatter that the Hogwarts staff, for one, didn't partake in.

McGonagall put a hand to her temple, her beady eyes scrutinizing those around her with a scowl to match. "Congratulations," she spat, quieting them all with her acid tone. "If we still have a Potions professor by the start of term this fall, it will be a miracle, thanks to _you._"

* * *

"You shouldn't have gotten yourself so worked up, Severus."

"Merlin, _enough already_," Severus groaned and rubbed his forehead.

"Well, how do you expect to deal with these episodes when you're away for the week and I can't help you?"

"Who's to say I still even have a job at this point?" he snarled back, raising several heavy blankets above his exposed neck.

Hermione hopped into bed next to him, eying him seriously. "Because you agreed to their terms, Severus."

"And I also stormed out in the middle of the meeting."

"Yes, well, that's just like you to pull something like that," Hermione laughed and scooted to be right up against him, which Severus naturally didn't object.

"I was angry, all right?" he grimaced in a softer tone, waiting for Hermione to get situated in her nook between his arm and chest. "I couldn't help it. They want to publish my teaching marks at the end of term for everyone to see."

"It isn't right, love, I agree," Hermione sighed and leaned over to graze his cheek with a kiss. "But, well, you still got the position in the end—"

"I have it for a _year_, Hermione. Beyond that, that's for the board to decide."

"So we're guaranteed a second income for a year. Look at the bright side; we'll have more money."

Hermione rested her head against his chest and stared intently at her ring, her fingers spread wide over his breastbone. Following where her attention had drifted, Severus took her hand in his and gazed, too, at the ring.

"You still like it?" he inquired delicately, after a moment.

"Of course I do! I was just thinking..."

"Yes?"

"What would you like to do?"

"Do?" he repeated, not following her trail of thought.

Hermione peered up at him, her caramel eyes reflective and open. "Wedding-wise."

"Oh."

"Merlin, don't sound so overjoyed or I may have to pinch myself."

"My apologies," he muttered, nuzzling against her nose.

"I'm just wondering if you've thought about it at all, what you'd like our wedding to be?"

"I haven't really thought it through, to be honest. Isn't it more the bride's day than the groom's?"

Hermione pouted. "No, it's _both_ of our days, and your input is a _requirement_, Mister, not an option."

"Well, tell me what you have in mind and I'll let you know if I agree or not."

"That isn't fair."

"Yes, it is."

"Ugh, fine!" Hermione chuckled and began tracing his collarbone. "Something small. Intimate. Close friends and family—"

"_Your_ close friends and family," he corrected her. "I have none, remember?"

"Bollocks. I'm going to ignore that statement. Anyway," catching Severus rolling his eyes, she stifled more laughter into his chest, "of course, Mum and Dad need to be there, so I don't think it could take place someplace where magic is involved."

"Actually, it could."

"Oh?"

"It depends on the location, but some places will allow Muggles temporary access."

"Oh, well, that's true. I hadn't really thought about that. That's something worth looking into then..."

Her fingers unconsciously moved up to the snake bites, unaware of Severus's sudden discomfort or where her touch had wandered. He quickly safeguarded her hand in his again to divert her hand away from that highly sensitive area.

"What else?" he encouraged softly.

"I'm not sure..."

"Well, why don't you start looking around and get ideas?"

Hermione cautiously searched his face. "Severus, I thought we couldn't afford to—"

"That doesn't mean you can't start researching, Hermione. That's your thing, isn't it?"

"Very funny!"

Severus met her sarcasm with a smirk. "Well, make use of your skills, why don't you?"

"But I want your input, Severus..."

"And you shall have it."

"One word answers don't count."

"Fair enough," he chuckled, closing his eyes; his opposite hand glided up and down the curve of Hermione's back, his long fingers lightly massaging her spine.

"Would you actually go through all of that?" Hermione found herself asking rather timidly.

Severus's eyes remained shut, his mouth limp and comfortable. "Sure, I would," came his casual reply, as if it were no big deal.

Hermione, however, sensed differently. "I mean... The service, the ceremony afterwards, the act of being social for more than five minutes?"

At this, Severus laughed again, suppressing a yawn behind a cupped hand. "Yes, I would. It wouldn't be all that fun, but marrying you would be."

"Severus..."

"I'd be fine with it, Hermione."

Hermione bit hard on her lower lip, staring at his lax features. "But I don't want you to be ill-at-ease, love. Getting married is supposed to be a wonderful moment between two people, not stifling and uncomfortable as hell."

Severus opened his eyes and looked her over thoughtfully, his demeanor quiet for a time before he spoke. "I wouldn't feel that way." Seeing her eyebrows raise high on her forehead, he added, "I wouldn't, Hermione. Honest."

"Somehow I can't help but think you're saying that only to satisfy me..."

"Not entirely, no."

"'Not entirely'? Oh, for goodness' sake, Sev—"

"I thought you'd _want_ to have a wedding?"

"I would, yes, but..."

"Then we'll have one," he declared, sounding decided about the matter, and reached his neck out to brush his warm lips against her soft brow. "Am I the type of person who gets roped into doing anything I don't want to do?"

Hermione's pink mouth curved into a sly smile against his chest. "Not usually, no, but you _have_ done it for me."

"Give me one example," he challenged through a low hiss.

Hermione didn't waste a second and replied, "Meeting my parents?" to which Severus's mouth slumped.

"That was a one-time thing."

Hermione cackled and wove a leg over his thigh. "Whatever, Mister. You've done things for me you weren't content doing. Don't think I don't know."

Severus collapsed his head back onto his pillow with a grunt, casting his sleep-deprived eyes away from her as she continued to titter, tickling his skin with her mouth. Her hand extended to graze a few wrinkles on his forehead, instantly regaining his attention in the process.

"You're sure you'd be all right with it? An actual wedding ceremony; not just us?"

"I've told you, _yes._"

"Fine." Hermione leaned over top of him for a tender, appreciative kiss, one that lasted for well over a minute before she pulled back.

"You're a pain in the arse," Severus groused without missing a beat, making her giggle loudly and animatedly.

"Takes one to know one," she shot back.

"Mmm, yes, indeed."

Hermione settled in with an arm stretched across Severus's torso. His hand had moved up from her back to the nape of her neck, working out the stiff kinks one by one.

"Severus?" Hermione spoke up after another pause.

"Yes?"

"We've never talked about..."

"About what?"

"Erm, well, certain things you're supposed to discuss before marriage."

Some rough laughter followed her remark. "Such as what?"

"Well, um..."

Hermione hesitated. She had never broached the topic before, and now that it had entered her mind so unexpectedly, she had no clue how to put it to him. How had the conversation never arisen before?

"What is it?"

"Well, such as," Hermione gulped, hardly knowing what to make of the idea herself, "a - a family..."

When Severus didn't utter a word, Hermione tensed in his arms and slowly peered up at him, fearful of the reaction she might receive. Severus was staring at the ceiling, his dark eyes transfixed, though evidently disquieted. He had also stopped rubbing her neck and had gone completely still in her arms.

"Sorry," Hermione quickly darted from the subject and curled up against him, "I shouldn't have brought that up. It just popped into my head. Forget I said anything—"

"Hermione, quit it," he issued with some irritation, which startled her, until he said, "No apologizing, remember?"

"Oh, all - all right." Hermione waited for him to answer, aware that he was contemplating and formulating his reply, though it took considerable time before he finally managed to say anything.

"You're right, we haven't had this discussion," he purred, his feelings about the subject matter undetectable based on his steady voice. "I've never considered the prospect of a family, to be honest. I've been... Rather content with just you."

"I have, too."

"I'm older, Hermione. You could... You could still change your mind."

Hermione glanced up at him anew. "So, you're opposed to the idea then?"

Hermione wasn't at all surprised that Severus wasn't keen on having children. After all, he had only been her professor for six years, and in those six years had made his sentiments about the general youth population famously clear, or so she assumed.

"It's not that I'm opposed to the idea, but I... I've never thought about it much."

"Is it because of teaching?"

It was more an assumption than a direct question, one which Severus seemed relatively hesitant to answer. His body relaxed against hers and he began massaging her neck again, his movements careful and calculated.

"Well, I've never particularly taken a liking to children."

"I noticed." She paused, staring at him reflectively. "Just in the school setting or in general?"

That endearing crease Hermione loved formed between his eyes. "I'm not sure," he answered.

"Is it the responsibility involved in taking care of a child, maybe?"

"That could be some of it." Severus let out a faint hiss. "And the fact that they spit up, poop, and give you smack as soon as their brains can formulate words that reach their mouths."

Hermione felt much more at ease at that bit of commentary and burst into laughter. "Severus, you know _you_ once did all those things, don't you?"

Severus turned his head towards her with a fierce glare. "Thank you very much."

"Well, it's true!" she smiled, snickering even harder.

Severus's face went from serious, however, to slightly downtrodden. "Even if I was certain that I wanted a family, Hermione, we... We couldn't..."

Hermione met his frown with equal uncertainty. "Why's that?"

"Hermione... _You know why..._"

"Severus, there's no guarantee—"

"Precisely," he insisted, his thumb reaching around her neck to trace her swollen lower lip. "Would you want to do that to an innocent child? Rear them yourself?"

"Severus—"

"Well, would you?"

"No, I... I'd want you right there with me."

"Then it isn't a smart idea, my dear. That isn't fair to you, nor to a child, to grow up without both parents." He scrutinized her for a long moment, seemingly forcing the words out of his mouth, "And anyhow, I... I wouldn't make a good father..."

Hermione rattled at such a declaration and raised her head. His comment was both brash and crude to her way of thinking, decided and a bit jaded.

"Severus," Hermione started, but the black-haired wizard shook his head to silence her rebuttal.

"I wouldn't, Hermione, and I think we both know it. Most people would think so, actually."

Hermione stared at him long and hard before tenderly extending her arm out to stroke the side of his face. He didn't rebuff her touch, but his dark eyes radiated a strange sort of guilt or shame—about fatherhood—and she didn't quite understand why he would make such a decided opinion of himself, and one so poor.

"I don't think that's true at all."

"And why would you think something so foolish?"

"_Because you're a good man._ I've told you many times, love: beneath the façade of reserve and bitterness that you wear, you love and care so profoundly, so deeply, with every part of yourself." Hermione found herself smiling warmly at him, a sort of all-knowing simper that confounded Severus to look upon. "I think you'd make an exceedingly good father. _Remarkable_, in fact."

Severus was perceivably shaken by such an opinion. "What?" he breathed, staring at her wide-eyed.

"You may think you wouldn't fall in love with a child, but if it was your own? Merlin, you would adore that child tremendously._ I know you would._"

"How on earth—"

"It's just an inkling I have, Severus, but it's a strong one," Hermione replied, still smiling and infuriating him further with her unwavering stance. "I can't explain it. _I just know..._"

Severus hardly knew how to respond, and it took him a moment to formulate his reply. "Hermione," he drawled carefully, "I know firsthand what it means to grow up in a household without affection. I wouldn't... I wouldn't know _how_ to act loving towards a child. With you? Yes, and because I'm learning; but with a child?" He blinked and stared at the edge of the bed, at nothing in particular. "No... You're mistaken," he whispered, his voice drifting off into the stillness of the room.

"How do you know?"

"You want a family; I understand that, Hermione. I've told you before, I have no wish to keep you from the things that you want."

"Severus, I haven't changed my mind. I just want to understand your hesitations; I'd rather see you not being entirely opposed to the idea just yet."

"Why would you even want to put a child through such an ordeal?"

Hermione scrunched up her brow. "Huh?"

"Growing up is trying enough, Hermione," Severus explained through a clenched jaw. "Carrying my name alone would be extremely difficult on a child. It wouldn't be fair. You'd _really_ be willing to put a child through such unnecessary scrutiny, all because of who his or her father is?"

Not wanting to get testy, Hermione inhaled slowly. "Severus, I understand where you're coming from. You're right, if we had a child, they would likely face a number of trials a normal child wouldn't. But I think it's safe to say the same could be said for a lot of war veterans who may start families, not just us."

"That's very naïve, Hermione," Severus shot her a severe look of reproach.

"It isn't naïve! Think of the Malfoys! Think of Harry, even! Whenever he gets married, his children will have to contend with having a very famous parent. You think that's going to be easy?"

"Hermione—"

"I'm not an idiot, Severus! I know how trying the two of us starting a family could be. I'm just considering all angles, that's all. Forget I asked."

Hermione rolled over onto her opposite side and hugged her pillow. She suddenly felt flushed and emotionally wrought, and not entirely sure why that was. After all, this was the first time they had ever even broached the subject of children whatsoever. That was, until Hermione came to the unsettling realization that the subject had, in actuality, been right in front of her all this time, she just hadn't found the nerve to address it: Severus was right, she _did_ want a family...

_How on earth could you be so stupid, Hermione, as to think Severus would automatically want a family, too?_

* * *

The sensitive topic wasn't brought up again; at least, not voluntarily. Even with the conversation left unfinished—Hermione inwardly stewing and Severus stretched thin—neither could muster the energy to discuss it yet. It was days, in fact, before the strained filter between them subsided and things—for the most part—went back to normal.

_We can't avoid it forever_, Hermione reminded herself, however, though she suspected Severus was probably more than happy to never raise the topic again.

Why had the idea even entered her head at all? Was it a sudden unbeknownst conflict or crisis about her future?

No, she _wanted_ to be with Severus; that much was certain.

Then why did she feel so damn hurt by his rejection? Was it because he had shot the notion down so quickly without a second thought? Was it _her_ fault for hanging onto the concept of a family life ever since she was a child?

_You're a grownup now, Hermione, and your circumstances with Severus are an extreme. He's right. Why on earth would you even contemplate having children with the state he's in? And why would it be a sensible idea? The man's universally despised, he doesn't have that natural father gene, and he doesn't even_ like _children, for Merlin's sake!_

Even if she still held a strong belief that Severus would be more susceptible to fatherhood than he figured so himself, there was the very harsh reality of how he had treated her and her peers throughout her adolescence that the astute Hermione couldn't ignore. Sure, much of the wizard's sour attitude had been brought on by the stresses of his job and his dangerous position as a spy, but that couldn't account for _all_ of it.

Her wizard had been tormented and bullied growing up, which could very well perpetuate the same cycle of abuse; and Hermione gnawed over the fact that she really couldn't excuse that behavior. It _had_ been bullying, after all, and she couldn't just outright dismiss it.

"Why did you go into teaching?" Hermione found herself asking one night they were curled up in bed, both reading and oblivious to the other's trepidations; at least, until that moment.

Severus's focused scowl and squinted eyes softened when they met hers, and he placed his book down in his lap. "What?" he returned, having been lost in his reading material.

"I know why Dumbledore offered you the position and why you took it, but why did you stay, or even go back?" Hermione lowered her inquisitive eyes a fraction. "Especially if you hate it so much?"

After pondering a moment or two, Severus answered, "Familiarity, I suppose." Thinking nothing further of her question, he returned to his book; but Hermione wasn't through.

"Do you just find students obnoxious because they're young, naive, and inexperienced?"

Severus glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye, but Hermione couldn't tell off the fly what was running through his brilliant mind. "Yes and no," came his muddled reply, which didn't help matters.

"Can you elaborate for me, please?"

"Gryffindor House receives the majority of my general disdain. It's biased and unfair, but, well..." He flipped the page of his book. "I can't quite hold myself back."

_That_ was a general understatement; one Hermione could tell Severus wasn't content to elaborate upon. "And the other Houses?" she pressed.

Though still reading, Severus drawled, "I suppose I'm fairer. I'd like to believe I am."

Hermione's mind wandered to Luna Lovegood, Cho Chang, and others. She admittedly hadn't heard much from those in other Houses about Severus as an instructor. Most complaints about the Potions Master had been reserved strictly for Gryffindor House, a recognition Hermione hadn't been consciously aware of until she stopped and contemplated it in more depth.

"Well, I can't imagine you being _kind_ to them, but fairer... Well, that makes sense."

"Mmm. Hufflepuffs are generally the most well-behaved. Ravenclaws are shrewd and pay attention, much like you, only they're not nearly as aggressive in answering questions or generally annoying." Hermione threw down her book and smacked his shoulder; he smiled a little but kept his focus on his book. "Gryffindors are generally rambunctious, easily distracted, and disrespectful."

"Well, in our defense, you_ are_ the Head of Slytherin House."

"And our rivalry, I suppose, brings that dislike out of me as well; but to be fair, Minerva may also be a strict professor, but she's also softer on you and your lot than she is on mine."

"Fair enough." Hermione leaned into him, placing a casual hand on his thigh. "You're still a lot nastier though, if we're to compare notes."

"I'm not mean," he growled softly and flipped to the next page of his book. "It's tough love."

"Oh, is that what you call it?"

Severus stopped reading and studied her critically. "I don't teach to coddle you—"

"I know, I know... You've said that to me plenty of times."

"Then what are you after, Hermione?"

"Just wanting to understand what drives you to continue working in a professional environment you hate."

"I don't hate it..."

"But you don't _like_ it either, Severus. You obviously take no enjoyment in teaching. I just don't get it. Professors generally teach because they _like_ interacting with students; they like to share their knowledge with younger generations. I get that your circumstances are different: you needed a job, just as we need you to secure one now, but why haven't you made the most of it, in that case?"

"Made the most of it?" He frowned, his confusion in her assessment deepening.

"We're not _all_ so terribly detestable, you know. You said so yourself."

"Hermione, just ask me outright, would you?"

Hermione shifted away, growing slightly nervous. "Um..."

"_Do I despise children?_ That's what you'd really like to know, isn't it?"

"Well... Erm, yes."

"I do not."

Hermione blinked but Severus had turned his attention back to his reading, his pinched up features focused on the text in front of his eyes; but it was an act Hermione understood all too well by now. Her lips curled upwards and she brushed herself up against him, one thigh touching his.

"Then what are your scruples at present, aside from the normal fears of failure and your name?"

"Oh, and you're bringing this up _again?_" His voice was steady and calm, but his eyebrows had narrowed; not an encouraging sign.

"No, we just never actually finished the discussion..."

"Yes, well, _you_ clammed up on me and turned away, as I recall," Severus reminded her, leaving Hermione to blush and bite her lower lip in embarrassment.

"Sorry..."

"It's not an easy matter to argue," Severus issued, nonchalant at first, until his new question crept up on her without warning. "Would you not be content if it were just us?"

"Us?"

Severus finally threw down his book and brought her into his fold, allowing the young witch to snuggle into his chest, wrapping an arm around his torso. "Yes, you and me," he whispered gently. "For the rest of our lives."

"Oh..."

Severus smirked. "_That_ doesn't sound at all reassuring."

"No, sorry, I just..."

"Hadn't thought about it?"

"Yes and no."

"Well, it's something you _should_ consider, Hermione, long and hard."

"Severus, I'm not going to change my mind!" Hermione was flustered, though she didn't understand why.

"But you also shouldn't sacrifice either, my dear."

"What am I sacrificing? We're simply talking, love, not sealing the matter in blood. We _can_ talk about these things, can't we?"

"Of course."

"Then don't set things in stone when there are two of us involved."

Severus sighed. "I wasn't, Hermione, but you know my strong sentiments. I told you before—"

"I thought you were expressing your concerns," Hermione found herself moping. "Not giving me your final answer."

"Hermione..."

"Forget it. I'm tired."

Leaving a trumped Severus to his own devices, Hermione scooted back to her side of the bed, putting a small wedge between them, and curled up into a fetal position underneath the covers. Once again, the conversation had left her jaded and emotionally scarred, unable to continue.

Severus stared at the back of her wild mane for a while, his silence not matching the racing thoughts turning over in his head. _A family? Children? Had I never made myself clear? Why the hell would she want me to father a child? Aren't I emotionally damaged enough? What the bloody hell would possess her to consider such a thing?_

Severus was too distracted now to read. Obviously, Hermione was upset over his stance, but weren't they legitimate concerns? She had certainly never brought up the notion of children before, nor how she felt about the prospect of marriage without them. Then again, neither had he.

_How the hell did we reach this point without considering something so important?_

Severus laid down flat on his back, focused intently on the ceiling above for an exceedingly long period of time. He wanted to shut off the pounding thoughts in his brain that wouldn't desist. When the witch lying beside him didn't move after a while, Severus assumed that she had fallen asleep, angry and perturbed with him just as before.

Hesitant, Severus slid over to her carefully and spooned her from behind, hoping he wouldn't wake her, but she shifted as soon as his arms reached around her waist, making his entire body freeze in place. He expected that she might push him away, but, to his utter relief, she didn't. Eventually, Hermione brought an arm over his, hidden beneath the covers, and snuggled comfortably into his chest again.

"I'm sorry," she surprised him by speaking up, her voice pained.

"You shouldn't be..."

"I just... I don't like how you're so decidedly against this, Severus. We've only just begun discussing it, and I feel like you're not willing to listen to me at all."

"I_ am_ listening, Hermione." He braced himself mentally, Hermione unaware. "You should have everything you want; but I... I don't think a family is something I could ultimately give you."

It was an agonizing lapse of silence before Hermione rolled back against his shoulder and practically bumped his nose with hers. There was a perceivable melancholy, and worry, looming in her eyes that made Severus's mouth run dry.

"I think it's something I _do_ want, Severus. I would never force that upon you. I don't want either of us to feel guilty."

"I see," he whispered very slowly, starting to feel slightly nauseated.

"Where..." Hermione swallowed hard, her pretty eyes searching his. "Where does that leave us?"

"I... I'm not sure..."

Hermione turned around completely, facing him, and hugged him close, burying her face into his chest with several sweet, yet saddened, kisses. Severus didn't relax, but he did bring his arms around her and held onto her small frame, allowing the young witch to cling to him out of love, his face getting lost in all her thick curls.

Their relationship had come to an unexpected standstill, and both hardly knew what to think or how to act. Instead, they held fast to each other in the darkness, lulling one another to sleep with their warm embrace, but neither fell asleep instantly. Their hearts wouldn't allow them much peace of mind that night.


	63. A Slytherin's Return

**A/N: After the angst in the last chapter, I give you a reprieve in this chapter. _That_ conversation, however, won't be resolved for some time yet...**

** _Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._  
**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 63: A Slytherin's Return**

Regardless of the break in smooth sailing, Hermione and Severus made their own efforts to move forward, _together._ The months trickled by, and the topic of children was virtually avoided. Hermione willed herself to focus on her wedding, for one. If there was one thing she was still certain of, it was that she loved Severus—loved him enough to reconsider her own wants; or was she merely suppressing them?

_He might come around, Hermione. He just might. It's not entirely hopeless.  
_

Hermione certainly wasn't about to mull over that potential bump in the road. It would only give her parents further excuse to hound her about reconsidering marriage at all, something she wouldn't even think twice about.

_No. Never._

As for her own friends, she didn't expect any of them to remotely understand this particular conflict of interest. Harry and Ginny were going strong but not at all near the point of considering marriage, let alone rearing a family. Ginny had only just finished her seventh year at Hogwarts and, at the moment, was job hunting around the Ministry, hopping from interview to interview. Harry had finished his stint in the Auror training program, earning high marks as expected, and was currently focused on his day to day job of reeling in Death Eaters still at large. When he wasn't working, he was attending to the memorial monument along with other members of the Order, though it hadn't come to fruition in time for the first anniversary.

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Hermione considered soberly that fateful morning when she and Severus woke up.

"Indeed, yes..."

The couple celebrated the day quietly and without much fuss. Severus was unsurprisingly dour and a little withdrawn, retreating into his books or to the laboratory for solitude. Hermione, too, found herself reflecting emotionally on the Wizarding War through a selection of tears, silent grief, and private prayers for those less fortunate.

"I'm so lucky," she whispered to herself in the library, staring out the window at an overcast sky that seemed to appropriately set the tone for the day.

It had not only been a year since the war ended but also since Severus had nearly lost his life. The remembrance was slightly unnerving when Hermione pondered how little progress Severus had ultimately made since then. Tonics were continuously adjusted, his frequent visits to St. Mungo's carried on, and, while he hadn't had any major health scares thus far, he was still too often plagued by bouts of fatigue, loss of appetite, strange temperament flair ups, or pains and shortness of breath.

More than once during the anniversary week, Hermione caught glimpses of Severus sitting in the library, rubbing at the prominent scars along his throat and staring off into space, his dark eyes blank and distant, so far away from her she worried whether he might be reliving nightmares from his past. They were certainly still frequent enough at night. It didn't take much for the prospect of a better future to fall to the back of Hermione's mind.

_Focus on the present, Hermione_, she told herself over and over again. _You have each other. Severus is still alive, and you have a wedding to think about..._

By the end of the summer, Hermione found herself increasingly agitated by those around her. Her parents had finally returned from Melbourne, taking up residence in Finchley where they secured jobs as full-time dentists once more; but Elizabeth had gotten into the routine, at least, during the sparse visits that she paid her daughter, of hounding Hermione about finding a wedding dress.

"Mum, we aren't getting married tomorrow. We haven't even set a date yet!"

"Well, that doesn't mean you can't start looking, dear."

"Mum, I don't think it's going to happen for at least another year or two."

"_That long?_" Elizabeth frowned her disappointment. "Well, that's unfortunate..."

"Mum, not too long ago you were telling me I should 'rethink' marrying Severus at all!" Hermione huffed, annoyed to no end. "What gives?"

"I'm sorry, love, I... I'm coming around to it, all right? You're my only daughter, and if you love him as much as you've made it abundantly clear to your father and me, then why haven't you set a date or started your wedding plans?"

"We want to save and do this properly, Mum, so _please_ stop pressuring me," she insisted with a calmer air, though still slightly miffed all the same.

"Since when is looking at wedding gowns a pressing adventure?" Elizabeth challenged, crossing her arms as they strolled along a London street not far from the Grangers' new flat. "Normally, brides look forward to it, Hermione. It's supposed to be a fun affair. I'm beginning to worry about you."

Hermione tittered dismissively and, not wanting to be cross, wrapped an arm around her mother's waist. "Mum, I _am_ excited, but I'm not going to buy a dress now when I probably won't be wearing it for another few years." Elizabeth grumbled, clearly dismayed by this glacially slow timeline. "When the time comes, we'll do it together, all right? Until then, knock it off."

Ginny and Mrs. Weasley's constant nagging wasn't helping matters either when Hermione popped in on them from time to time. Neither redhead could fathom why Hermione hadn't already set a date, picked her reception, chosen flowers, and sent off her invitations.

"Honestly, Hermione, this is ridiculous! You've been engaged for eight months now!"

"So?" Hermione shot back with an amused smile.

"_So_," Ginny huffed, as they strolled through Diagon Alley with Luna in tow, the only female these days who _wasn't_ breathing down Hermione's neck. "Why haven't you at least started researching?"

"I've told you, Ginny, we're in no rush."

"I like that attitude," Luna airily inserted her opinion into the conversation, eying Hermione dreamily as always. "Taking your time, not fussing or stressing yourselves out. Weddings are so much fun to plan for if you don't get your wand in a knot."

"Yes, well, there's still time to start stressing, but I'm not going to give myself hives over something that's, in all likelihood, more than a year away."

"_That long?_" Ginny's eyes looked like they were going to pop right out of their sockets.

Hermione burst into laughter. "Gin, I daresay you're more excited about getting married than me! I didn't think it was possible for _anyone_ to be more enthusiastic about me marrying Severus Snape than myself. What a pleasant surprise!"

Ginny blushed profusely and quickened her pace. "I just don't understand your lack of enthusiasm, that's all."

"Oh, Gin, stop it! I'm plenty excited, all right? And you'll both be involved when the time comes."

"I'd better be!"

"Oh, lovely," Luna skipped a ways ahead, her long hair swaying to and fro from behind. "I could do your bouquet, if you'd like? My father's growing a colorful variant of Flitterbloom in our garden; his very own design. They're popping up red, blue, and yellow so far. Quite pretty things."

Ginny made a peculiar face and Hermione stifled her giggles by coughing. "Thank you, Luna, but I'm not sure blue vines are what I'm thinking of for my flower arrangements."

Luna didn't seem at all perturbed and simply shrugged. "Oh, well, in any case, you should take a look at them. They're a lot lovelier than you might think."

"Better than actual Devil's Snare," Ginny whispered into Hermione's ear, too low for Luna to overhear. The three moved on to a café for lunch, seeking comfort inside the establishment for a break from the sweltering heat.

Summer was already drawing to a close, which Hermione could hardly believe. In only a week, Severus would be returning to Hogwarts at long last. She could read his understated excitement—not at the prospect of teaching again, but finally having something to _do_—and yet, there was something he was holding back from her, though she didn't know what it was.

The end of summer signaled their unhappy reality. Not only would Severus be taking up his position again at the school, but he would also be leaving Spinner's End to reside, more often than not, on Hogwarts' premises. That notion hadn't quite settled in yet, at least, not for Hermione, who found herself increasingly more despondent as the week dragged on. Severus's attitude had gone a bit south as well.

"You _will_ come home, won't you?" Hermione pressed him throughout the week, which the reformed Slytherin wasn't disgruntled at hearing; knowing he was still wanted by her was more than a tad reassuring.

"You act as if I'm going to run out of your life," he smirked her way.

"It feels like that. Sort of..."

"Sour witch. Of course I'll come home. Every chance I get."

"You'd better."

Hermione watched silently as Severus packed his belongings, pulling her knees up on the bed as Severus levitated several items into a suitcase at her bare feet. His packing was fairly light, and it didn't take long for him to latch it shut with a flick of his wrist. He then crawled onto the bed beside her, leaning in for a proper kiss.

"Don't pout, lioness," he reprimanded lightly, brushing her lips in good humor.

"I'm not pouting."

"Are so."

"Are not." Hermione curled her whole body into his shoulder, inhaling a pleasant whiff of his scent. "Please don't stay away long..."

"Don't have too much fun in my absence."

"Sure thing."

"And no sulking either."

"Take your pick, would you?" she grumbled, her voice muffled as she sunk her weight into his coat.

"Very well," he chuckled quietly. "If I'm to be miserable, then you are, too."

"That's nasty."

"It's fair," he retorted with a low growl.

"Even so, it's still cruel."

"So be it." Severus burrowed his nose in her neck, his small laughter tickling her ear. "Still want to help?"

"Of course I do!" Hermione raised her head to peck his cheek. "I wouldn't miss running into any one of my old professors, just to see their squirmy reactions to us."

Severus snorted. "Somehow I doubt we'll be running into anyone. My office and lab are conveniently far away from everyone else."

"Don't any of you at least make your rounds to greet each other?"

"Before the first staff meeting? I don't."

Hermione giggled, still holding onto him with her face obstructed by his coat and long tresses. "You're such an unsociable crab."

"None of them are going to be overjoyed to see me anyhow, trust me; so why put myself through the awkward motion of greeting my enemies?"

"Enemies? Well, you could at the very least attempt some cordiality." Hermione added, fighting off her laughter, "Why I even suggested that is beyond me."

"As well as I."

"Oh, shut it!"

Severus tightened his grip around her shoulder, loving the warmth of her lips rubbing his cheek, nuzzling his ear, or breathing on his neck. "We should go," he purred after a quiet moment, reluctant to move from such a wonderful spot as this sanctuary in his lover's arms.

Hermione sighed her own silent protest. "Very well," she replied with equal misery.

* * *

The return to Hogwarts was déjà vu for both, but particularly for Severus. A year ago, he would never have dreamed to still be alive, let alone setting foot back into the castle as a professor once more. It was a moment of fleeting emotions as the wizard progressed towards the dungeons with Hermione at his side, scanning the hallways for any signs of life. Thankfully, Peeves was nowhere to be found, but the Bloody Baron approached just as they reached the stairwell, and would be the only individual to say hello for nearly all of Hermione's stay.

"I'm sure McGonagall will be by at some point to say hello," Hermione insisted, more to herself than to Severus as they set to restoring his storage unit to its former glory.

Slughorn, Severus concluded with critical aggravation, had "thoroughly messed up" the ornate order of his supplies to the point that the way it was left was simply "unacceptable." Hermione didn't quite follow; it looked to be in fine enough order to her, but she didn't argue, merely snickered behind her compulsive organizer's back.

Being back at Hogwarts was more bittersweet than Hermione herself bargained for. Aside from retrieving a few personal items for Severus while he was in hospital, Hermione hadn't set eyes on the castle last since it was in ruins. Seeing it in shambles was heartbreaking enough, but then, she had been preoccupied with Severus at the time to take much of it in. It wasn't completely up to snuff, even a year later, but the dungeons were very much intact. Aside from scattered cracks in the walls, there wasn't much about Severus's laboratory to fix, and Hermione's work in assisting Severus was concluded sooner than she would have liked.

Just as she was nearing the end of rearranging a few furnishings in Severus's personal chambers as he set about organizing his book collection, the Headmistress popped her head around with a light knock, just as Hermione predicated. "Minerva," Severus greeted with a curt bow before seeing to his books and school supplies with his wand.

"How are you making out so far, Severus?" McGonagall asked politely, sounding remarkably upbeat to Hermione, especially for the aged, uptight witch. Her face was relaxed and comfortable, despite catching sight of Hermione making Severus's bed, lightly brushing out the crinkles on his emerald duvet.

"Well-enough," was all Severus returned, keeping his back to the woman as he worked.

"I see." She turned to Hermione, dropping her easygoing demeanor a little. "Will you be staying for dinner, Miss Granger?"

Hermione and Severus were both visibly rattled by such a question. "Erm, I don't think so, Professor... Isn't that for staff only?"

"No matter. You're welcome to join us if you wish." McGonagall surprised Hermione further when her grey eyes focused in on the diamond on her left hand. "May I see?" the woman inquired with the faintest trace of a smile.

Hermione, though startled, approached the elderly Headmistress and held out her hand, ready to swipe it away at any moment should things tread too uncomfortably. Severus glanced at the two witches briefly before decidedly giving the book shelf in front of him his unwavering attention.

"My goodness, Severus," McGonagall laughed, causing shocked reactions from her party. "I had no idea you had such polished taste!" She flashed Hermione a genuine smile that the young woman could hardly believe. "It's lovely, my dear."

"Thank you," Hermione willingly grinned back. "He_ does_ have exceptional taste. He knows what I like."

Severus purposely kept his back turned. "I should, shouldn't I?"

"At this point? _Merlin, yes._"

"Even so, Severus, that was quite naughty of you to spring that surprise on me!"

Severus whipped his head around, several black strands brushing his eyes. "Oh?" he sneered. "Why's that, Minerva?"

"You did so _purposely_ so that I wouldn't know how to respond, you fiend." Hermione had never heard the two banter this lightly before; it was mesmerizing, odd, and comical all at the same time.

"Of course I did."

"Next time, give me a little bit of warning, won't you?"

"No." Severus shot the woman a dark, though rather exuberant, expression and attended to his books again.

"Well, Miss Granger, if you do wish to join us, I'm sure there are more than a few friendly faces who would care to hear more about your news. Severus is terribly withdrawn and unpleasant at these sorts of things and won't offer up any details. He'll just scowl in a corner and brush us all off. But you..."

Hermione's smile broadened. "Sure, Professor," she agreed, even if she was slightly nervous, "I'd be happy to be there."

"Very well. Dinner's in an hour on the second floor. Severus knows where. We'll see you then."

McGonagall bowed courteously to them both and swept out of the room, by which time Severus had already made his way over to a rather stunned Hermione. "You don't have to go through this," he tried to play down the invitation, sensing she wouldn't want to expose them both, but Hermione shook his efforts away.

"I'd love to, actually. Unless you'd prefer to go it alone?"

There was a small glimmer in Severus's eyes that threatened his restrained demeanor. "No," he professed quietly, allowing Hermione to gently take his hand, "I... I'd like to have you there."

To Hermione, his confession was a sincere testament to how far the wizard had come in being open and trusting of her. She didn't let such a remarkable feat go unnoticed. Stretching onto her tip toes, she kissed him affirmatively and melted her weight into his.

"Gladly," she concurred, giving him her warmhearted grin that brought his own handsome simper to the surface.

* * *

Explaining their relationship and Severus's subsequent proposal several times that evening grew beyond tedious, and fast. Severus clamped up and retreated into the shadows, just as McGonagall had predicted, keeping out of everyone's way and conversing with few. The feeling seemed to be mutual. No one was outright rude towards the former Headmaster, but it was clear they had very little to say to the man. Hermione suspected, however, that these slight exchanges weren't anything knew. It was no secret that, even when she was a student, Severus wasn't particularly close to any other staff members.

A few times, Hermione caught sight of him openly scowling in the corner, speaking fleetingly to Madame Pomfrey, McGonagall, or Flitwick. Most of the time, however, he kept to himself, leaving Hermione to go on the defense. It wasn't entirely his own doing though, which Hermione accepted easily enough.

An awkward silence followed their appearance in the cramped staff room near the Headmistress's office, where Hermione learned that such meetings regularly took place. Everyone's eyes stared unreservedly at the pair of them, and, although Severus didn't take Hermione by the hand, he did escort her inside and take a seat at her side. Hermione couldn't tell at first glance what the general consensus of the staff was; either they were, if nothing else, receptive to receiving Severus back at the staff table again or were doing so out of cordiality and respect for Hermione's appearance.

Either way, they all played the part of sociality well-enough. Madam Pomfrey looked particularly pleased to see the professor again, and all of them were receptive towards Hermione, at least. Their curiosity in the two as a couple was irrefutable, their eyes easily giving away their dire cravings to know more, and it wasn't long before Hermione found herself being bombarded with questions left and right.

By the time she was through giving them all a general account of things, her throat was parched, and she somewhat resented Severus for never moving from his spot in the corner all evening to be with her; but she quickly got over it. She couldn't imagine how much worse this night might have been for the poor man if he had come alone. Hermione was clearly well-liked, as highly praised a student as ever, with the entire staff relaying their interest in what "their brightest student" was up to these days. She sensed herself balancing out some of the lingering negativity that hovered in the air about her and Severus, and, by the end of the night, it was virtually nonexistent.

"Well, _that_ didn't hurt as much as I expected it to," Hermione tittered as they made their way back to the dungeons later that evening. A comfortable breeze filled the corridor, whisking their skin as they strolled casually arm-in-arm.

"My apologies for leaving you to get eaten alive," Severus offered, "but I wouldn't be at all patient in my relating things to any of those gossipers. It wouldn't have gone over well."

"No, I daresay it wouldn't," Hermione snickered, nudging his side sportingly. "You left me high and dry, Mister. I think my throat hurts."

"Poor you."

"Watch it!"

"I'll brew you something when we get back."

_How sweet_, Hermione reflected with a soft smile reserved only for him. "How do you feel?" she thoughtfully inquired, to which he raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Feel?"

"About being back here?"

Severus briskly ceased walking and scanned the surrounding shadows and dying torches of this part of the castle. His black eyes were contemplative, surveying the school that had once been both a sanctuary and personal Hell in his highly complicated past.

"Indifferent," Severus finally answered with some strain to his voice.

"Do you wish you hadn't given it up?"

Severus's irises flashed unnaturally. "_Merlin, no._ Although," he paused, extending a pale hand out to touch the yellow stone, his long fingers gracefully tracing the contours of the wall in an almost intimate fashion, "it still responds to me, for whatever reason..."

"Pardon?" Hermione watched him, intrigued.

"The castle. It responds to me as if..." He searched the corridor, making sure that they were entirely alone. "As if I were still Headmaster."

Hermione's eyes widened. "_Really?_"

"Yes."

"Strange... But you relinquished that power."

"Indeed, I did."

"So how could it respond to you_ and_ McGonagall simultaneously?"

Severus shrugged. "Beats me."

Hermione's curiosity cast itself into a frown. "Does McGonagall know?"

"I don't plan on telling her, if that's what's got you so worried, but I would imagine she has an inkling or two."

"Do you think it would bother her if she knew?"

"If I know Minerva, and if she carries any sort of regard towards me at all, then no, it wouldn't rub her the wrong way. She's not so catty as that."

"I think she's accepted what you did, Severus. From the looks of things tonight, Madam Pomfrey and Flitwick have as well."

"Perhaps. I think the others were more receptive because _you_ were there."

Hermione's fetching lips formed a smile for him. "I hope so."

Severus stepped closer, amused that the young witch instinctively moved closer to him as well. "I don't believe I've thanked you yet."

"For what?" Hermione rested her hands on a few of the man's buttons, staring up into his satisfied expression with confusion outlining her own.

"For sticking by me when no one else would," he replied in a hushed tone. His hands trailed over the dip in her back, pulling her in ever so gently at the hips.

"Severus..."

"It's true. You're the only one who's ever had any _real_ faith in me."

"No, I'm not the only one..."

Severus slowly shook his head, allowing hairs to descend against his large nose. "She doesn't count." His voice was as soft as the night breeze as he brought one hand up to caress her cheek. "She wasn't nearly as loving, forgiving, or loyal as you." Hermione felt her cheeks flushing at the subtle reference to Lily Evans, her heart fluttering and gravitating towards the man's dose of sincerity. "Not by a long shot," he added just as quietly.

Hermione wove her arms lazily around his neck and pecked the tip of his nose. "I'm glad I win _that_ contest."

"It isn't a contest. It's a fact."

"Yes, well, even so..."

Severus withdrew a little, alarming Hermione, who wasn't sure what had happened, only that his face had turned rather glum. "You know how I feel about you..."

"Of course I do, Severus—"

"And that I want to make you happy."

Hermione tightened her grip around his neck. "_Yes_, love, I know."

"I don't ever want you to compete with my past. There's nothing to compare it to."

"Oh..." That caught Hermione unawares; she hadn't realized she had, for some time, subconsciously been doing that very thing, and her eyes peered up at Severus both appreciatively and with a twinge of guilt. "Thank you... I won't."

"With me being away, I hope..." Severus was now struggling to get the words out, appearing both vulnerable and detached; Hermione read his emotional protection immediately and drew nearer. "I hope you won't change your mind," he finished in a pained sort of whisper that threw Hermione off balance.

"_Of course_ I won't, love! Why the hell would you even think that?" Hermione brushed his face, and he instinctively leaned into her warm touch, feeling her hot breaths tickle the hairs on his neck. "Now take me to bed and make up for that ghastly remark."

Severus's eyebrow arched. "Oh?"

"Yes, I deserve some proper hanky-panky after _that!_"

Severus chortled, his eyes darkening flirtatiously. "I'm not entirely sure that you're permitted to stay on the Hogwarts grounds at night, Miss Granger."

"In that case, _Professor_, we'd best be discreet." Hermione tugged hard on his cloak and pulled his weight into hers, his chest pressing upon her breasts. "I'm not going anywhere. Not tonight."

"You're a demanding little lioness."

"That's right, and you're stuck with me, remember?"

Not wasting any time, Hermione lifted herself off the ground and wrapped her legs around Severus's waist, fervently kissing him on the mouth. Severus stumbled backward into the wall but didn't push her efforts away. His arousal had only been heightened by her rigorous display of want, and, bending his knees to support her weight, he caressed and massaged and bit lightly on her lower lip.

Hermione yanked at his cravat, his buttons, his trousers—desperate for something to hang onto; but she also wanted them off. Damn the breeze that threatened; she was on fire and couldn't give a rat's arse. She could feel Severus's growing erection begging for release from his trousers, brushing underneath her as she grew warmer and wetter in her knickers.

The day had been such a whirlwind of emotional stress and anxiety, peaked by the notion of an upcoming departure, that, now that the night was nearly over, all Hermione could fathom was relieving the tension, and in the best possible way. Her lover seemed to adamantly concur with the solution to the problem.

Continuing to snog fearlessly, Hermione managed to unbutton Severus's pants, just as he tugged and pulled at her freshly wet knickers, trying to yank them off. _Probably not a good idea_, Hermione briefly considered, but all was already lost, her body resigned to have him in any way possible, even if it was in an abandoned corridor where they could potentially get caught at any given moment.

Hermione briefly recalled that dire moment in St. Mungo's when she and Severus had needed each other so desperately, their bodies aching and in want of each to relieve the restlessness and tension of all that lay outside of their control. This was another one of those moments.

_To hell with it._

Severus shoved Hermione against the wall, her back scraping against the stone and tearing her lightweight blouse. Severus grunted his apology, which Hermione dismissed in a fury.

"Doesn't matter," she hissed, pressing her lips to his with a passion and excitement he matched.

Having pulled Hermione's stretched-out knickers to her knees, Severus maneuvered himself between her splayed thighs and forced himself inside her throbbing canal. Hermione let out a sharp gasp, her sheath clenching around him and engulfing the aroused wizard with heat. Her curls, now frizzy and a mess, fell forward all around Severus's flushed face, a seductive smile mapping its way across her rose-colored cheeks. Severus pinned her more vigorously against the stone wall, one of his hands clamping down around hers, which were snatched above her head, the other cradling her rear for support.

There were several powerful thrusts, pounding and grating against the wall, the silhouettes of their interlaced, sweat-covered bodies outlined by the shadows and soft candlelight up and down the empty corridor. The grinding only intensified, their breathing growing ragged as Severus drove himself further and further into Hermione, who was now moaning and writhing and biting down her lip to the point of drawing blood. Her back was likely getting scratched to pieces, but she couldn't care less in light of how exhilarating it felt to have Severus pressing inside her, setting her core on fire from the inside out.

Within minutes, Hermione's thighs squeezed tightly around Severus's trim waist, her head hitting the wall hard as she climaxed with an intense cry of ecstasy, one that was nearly enough to send Severus over the edge. He continued to shove into her for nearly another minute, sending her into an explosive second orgasm that was equally as furious as the first, the side of his face smothered against her neck as he breathed strenuously into her ear; but soon his fingers contracted around hers and he came with a deep growl and a shudder that overtook his entire body.

Eventually, his hands removed their grip on Hermione's so that she could loop them both freely around his neck. Still panting from their ministrations, their wet lips met each other's several more times before either could will themselves to move. Hermione unfastened her legs from around Severus, stiff after being in such a position, and she fumbled with getting her knickers back into place, tittering wickedly whilst watching Severus speedily button up his trousers.

"Only you!" Severus hissed, wiping damp hairs off of his forehead; his merciful eyes betrayed him, however, sending Hermione into a fit of shrilled giggles.

"What?" she challenged, her face a healthy flush of pink.

"You're the only witch who has the potential to get me fired my first day back on the job."

"Tsk tsk. The students haven't arrived yet, _Professor._ You're in the clear." Hermione chuckled some more and looped an arm through his as—properly re-suited—they made their way down to the dungeons, taking their time to catch their breaths. "You know, it's a shame I never took such an advantage with you when I was your student."

Severus cast her a fierce glare, his evident shock causing further laughter at his side. "_You_ are the naughty influence," he growled in her ear; Hermione found herself aroused all over again, a prickle of warm heat pulsating between her legs.

"I know."

"In that case, you'd better make it up to me," he insisted, swiping at a few strands of her damp hair that hung over his arm.

"Oh? Make it up to you?"

"I believe you've been calling me the bad influence for ages, Miss Granger, and quite unfairly, I might add."

"Oh, rubbish." Hermione turned to him once they reached his bedchambers and brushed a hand affectionately over the side of his cheek, beads of sweat still showering his face. "I'll make it up to you anyhow, and without any sort of payback," Hermione offered, flashing him an encouraging smile.

A high-spiritedness danced across the pale wizard's normally hard features as the young witch led him inside the darkened room, shutting the door and muffling the outside world from hearing any more of their sportive lovemaking. For Severus, it was just the sort of sendoff a man could want.


	64. Falling Into Place

**A/N: My apologies for such a late update, but I recently returned home from a week's vacation only to get sick. As compensation for those still interested in this story, I have a two-for-one for you here, Chapters 64 and 65. Four chapters and an epilogue remain. As always, I'd greatly appreciate your feedback... **

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 64: Falling Into Place**

**Nine Months Later**

"So, you_ finally_ set a date!" Ginny cheered ecstatically.

"Yes, we did!"

"When?"

"June 8th."

Ginny's elation turned upside down in a flash. "In other words, _next year?_"

"Yes, Ginny," Hermione replied with lighthearted laughter, "a whole year from now."

"You must have the longest engagement on record." The redhead paused, pouting accordingly. "At least, of anyone_ I_ know."

"Oh, Gin, _really._"

"_Well?_" she pressed, giddy with the news. "Dresses? Flowers? A venue?"

"Merlin, we just got a date together and—"

"_Just_ being the key word!"

"Remind me never to share anything more about this wedding nonsense with you again."

"That's cruel."

"No, _it's fair._ You're driving me round the bend!"

"All right, fine, I'll stop!" Ginny giggled as they sat outside the Burrow, soaking in the warm summer's evening as Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Weasley clan played a round of Quidditch whilst she, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley watched from the sidelines. The matriarch of the family had gone inside to fetch some drinks and desert as the two young women lay lazily on the grass.

Things between Hermione and Ron hadn't improved much, but they were at least now on cordial terms. Any sort of rekindled friendship was going to take time, care, and a rebuilding of trust, they both knew, and neither was willing to push things too far along. As far as her other half was concerned, Hermione shouldn't make amends with the "foul dunderhead" after all the unnecessary emotional injury his actions had caused her over the past year or so, but Hermione couldn't assess the situation as so black and white. If there was any way to get through to Ron again, Hermione would, and at her own pace.

_How much has changed in less than a year_, Hermione reflected, quite in harmony with where she and her friends stood in their lives at the present time.

Harry and Ginny were still going strong, though not engaged. Ginny was now a professional Quidditch player with the Holyhead Harpies and was gone for part of the year. Hermione suspected an engagement was at the back of both of her friends' minds, and very much in the cards, especially with Molly Weasley's constant pushing and prying for a wedding for her only daughter.

Luna and Neville were also still very much an item. For several months now, everyone had been guessing when Neville might pop the question, or how he would do so, rather. "Unconventionally," they all decided as one, knowing the odd pair too well to conjure up any sort of ordinary proposal. Luna never spoke much about their future and Neville only did so on occasion, but it was obvious to everyone within earshot that they were happy together in a way that illustrated longevity.

Ron had recently started dating Lavender Brown again, having bumped into her in London, where the Gryffindor had been living life as a Muggle since the end of the war, trying to put her life back together as so many of their generation were. Hermione was pleased that her old friend was finally putting himself out there, seemingly moving forward with his life at long last. Dating Lavender meant an important stepping stone in getting over _her_, so Hermione was all for it.

Not much was known, however, of what Ron thought of the rekindled relationship. Seeing as he and Hermione weren't as close as they had once been, Hermione wasn't privy to his thoughts or how things were progressing, if at all. It was admittedly hurtful to not have that tight bond anymore; she would have loved to share more about her wedding plans with him, for instance, but, for the moment, they needed to take things one day at a time.

_Hopefully... Someday... Things can be as they once were._

Probably wishful thinking, Hermione's clever mind concluded, but that wouldn't stop her from hoping. She sighed heavily and leaned back on her elbows, watching as Harry tossed a beat up-looking Quaffle to Percy and sped off in the opposite direction towards their opponents.

Not only had the second anniversary of the end of the war come and gone without much hype, but a ceremony to mark the anniversary had been another quiet one for so many. Arrangements were still being fought over on how to honor the fallen, as well as those who had so gallantly fought and survived, but decisions were finally coming to fruition now that so many had had proper time to grieve, get back on their feet, and rebuild their lives. Hermione and Severus were lucky enough to count themselves amongst the survivors but weren't actively involved in putting the ceremony together for the following year as Harry was, even though that, too, was a little less than a year away. It seemed oddly appropriate that the third anniversary of the war and hers and Severus's wedding would not even be a full month apart from each other.

"How are things going?" Ginny piped in, interrupting her quiet contemplations.

"Great!" Hermione returned with a smile.

"I'm glad it all worked itself out for you guys during the school year."

"Me, too. It wasn't easy for either of us, but we made it work. I can't believe nearly half the summer will be over soon."

"I know; but you'll still see him often enough."

"I'm glad someone understands what that's like..."

Ginny tossed her long hair off one shoulder. "Yeah, well, I don't want to do this long-term, and I don't think Harry wants me to either. He'll never admit it to me, but we both know that this isn't going to work for us in the long run."

"Oh?" Hermione angled her head. "Discussing your futures now, are you?"

"Stop it, Hermione," Ginny blushed furiously, turning away from her with a small, sheepish smile. "Only a little."

"I see."

Ginny quickly turned the tables back on her friend. "So, no thoughts yet on where you want to have your ceremony?"

Hermione nodded her head futilely; there's no way Ginny was going to let up until she got _something_ out of her. "Actually, yes."

Ginny's eyes perked up with interest. "Oh?"

"We're thinking Hogwarts, since the place ultimately was what brought us together." She surveyed her friend cautiously, turning red in the face as well. "Trite, isn't it?"

Judging by her friend's subsequent coo of approval, an obnoxious sound that would have made the Potions Master himself cringe in pain, apparently that wasn't the case. "That's so sweet!" Ginny offered with a big grin.

"Merlin, I knew I shouldn't have said anything."

"You're starting to sound as cynical as him, you know that?"

Hermione cocked her curly head to one side and shot her friend an all-knowing smile. "Am I?"

"Yes! It's worrisome."

"In that case, I'm glad."

Ginny ignored Hermione's snark and pressed on with further questions. "What about your parents? They won't be able to attend then, will they?"

"Severus is going to speak to McGonagall about it when he returns in the fall. I'm hoping there's some sort of leeway—a breach in magic—that would allow them to be there. If not, we'll find someplace else."

"Well, at least no one can give Severus a hard time about his position anymore. He officially has his job back. That has to be reassuring."

Referring to Severus's teaching marks, which had only recently made the papers after the end of his first term back at Hogwarts, Hermione was relieved that that bit of unfortunate circumstance was over and behind them. "Oh, people are still giving him a hard time. I reckon they always will; but yes, he has his position back, so that's one less worry on our shoulders."

"I... I'm glad," Ginny unexpectedly whispered to her, catching Hermione off guard. Met with Hermione's look of shock, the redhead added quietly, "I accepted his apology, didn't I?"

Hermione's smile returned, gentler than before. "Yes, you did, Ginny. Thank you."

A moment of silence passed between them, the only sounds being that of rough housing on brooms from the group of men high in the air. A disagreement amongst them had broken out, but Hermione and Ginny weren't paying much mind to any of it.

"Hogwarts would be perfect," Ginny inserted casually. "I'd never considered it before, but it's a lovely idea."

"Yeah, well, I have a feeling most of the preparations are going to fall on me."

Ginny eyed her curiously. "Isn't that usually the case?"

"I suppose so. I think Severus just wants to stay out of the way and give his opinion if I ask for it."

"Well,_ that_ doesn't sound at all like Snape. Isn't he normally thrusting his opinions upon others, whether they want them or not?"

Hermione's smile expanded, glowing against the setting, pink sun. "Normally, yes." She blinked and shaded her eyes. "But his opinion is important to me."

"And housing?" Ginny inquired, switching gears on her again.

"Severus apparently found a location he wants to show me."

"Oh? When?"

"This weekend."

Ginny gazed at her friend in awe. "Wow, Hermione. A wedding, a new house... You and Snape sound like you're ready to set up shop." Hermione kept her smile intact and was just glancing back up at the rowdy game hovering above them when Ginny nearly catapulted her forward with an unexpected question. "Any thoughts yet about kids?"

Hermione eyes widened to the extreme. She certainly wasn't prepared to broach _that_ particular topic with anyone outside of Severus. More to the point, she expected either her mother or Mrs. Weasley to be the first to hound her on the subject of children, but she still hadn't gotten herself prepared for the onslaught.

Children had continued to be an ongoing discussion between them, though only in spurts, and Hermione didn't see much change in the interim. She would admittedly _like_ to have children. She was now accepting that it might not happen, but she was still holding out hope that, in time, Severus might change his tune. They were, of course, in no position to start a family any time soon, financially or otherwise, but it was a decision that would have to be decided upon sooner or later; something she and Severus were both consciously aware of.

Either Hermione would have to accept life with her wizard alone, something she wasn't at all opposed to, or Severus would have to accept the challenge of parenthood. Hermione's mind was consumed with those thoughts when Ginny interrupted again.

"Hermione?"

"Sorry, I... I wasn't expecting you to bring that up."

"Oh." Ginny frowned and reared back a little, confused. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I just... We're still working through that." Hermione peered up at all the figures flying around in the air before turning back to Ginny with a grave expression. "Privately."

"Oh!" Her friend quickly got the message. "Well, I won't say anything. Don't worry."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was such a sensitive issue."

"Well, it is and it isn't."

"You don't agree on kids, is that it?"

"Well, I'm not opposed to it, but Severus is somewhat reluctant."

"Oh... Well, what are you going to do?"

"Continue to talk through it. If it's just Severus and me, I know I'll be happy. I guess the decision ultimately lies with him, really."

"And you're all right with just you two?"

Ginny's question was soft-spoken, masking the young lady's underlying criticism, but Hermione knew better. With her smile in place, she simply nodded her answer for her good friend.

"Yes, if that's what's in the cards for us, then we're both perfectly fine with it."

_At least, right now..._

"Then I'm happy for you," Ginny offered the sincerest reply she could, and the two witches shared a quiet exchange before the redhead found herself snickering again and switching topics. "I can't believe that, after all that time Snape spent teaching you how to fly this summer, you won't get your arse up there and help the boys out!"

"Speak for yourself, Miss Holyhead Harpies! Why aren't _you_ out there showing them how to play without cheating?"

"I know," Ginny tittered and tossed back her hair again, "but I play enough Quidditch out of the year. I see no reason to do so when I'm home as well. A girl needs a break once in a while."

"Yes, well, speaking of flying, I received enough bossy instruction on _that_, mind you. I'm taking a time out."

"Still not keen on flying much?"

"Not one bit!" Hermione found herself stifling her laughter behind biting her lip. "Severus was so frustrated with me, poor man. He _really_ tried though, I have to give him credit. He had more patience with me than Harry did; imagine that! I'm marginally better than I was before."

"Well, then that's saying something!" Ginny's freckled features turned meditative as she peered over at her friend more soberly than before. "You know," she continued, "he keeps his promises, Snape does..."

Hermione paused to consider Ginny's thoughtful remark. Then an affectionate smile for her wizard curled the edges of her mouth, her voice lowering a fraction so that only Ginny could hear.

"You know, you're right. Severus _does_ keep his promises..."

* * *

"Will you please tell me where the hell we are?" Hermione giggled as Severus led her by the hand into what she could only decipher was some sort of a field.

She could hear the crunching of twigs, the swishing of grass beneath her feet, and the fresh outdoor breeze that brushed her skin. She had been firmly instructed to keep her eyes closed, but this was getting ridiculous.

"Stop asking questions and just keep your eyes shut," came his commanding, nonabrasive snarl.

Hermione snickered and didn't dare open them now. Her wizard may have had his back to her, but he also had eyesight out of the back of his skull.

Negotiations were growing ever closer towards the selling of Spinner's End. Having put the house on the market in the early autumn of last year, it ultimately hadn't attracted any witch or wizard buyers and, to the couple, not surprisingly so. Ultimately, they settled for a Muggle real estate agent, who was finally able to sell the place to a young Muggle couple moving into the area.

That meant finding another home and relatively soon. With the luxury of magic, this was an easy fix, and Severus and Hermione had decided when they put Spinner's End up for sale that they wanted a new home to call their own. A fresh start. A home that would be constructed with them and their future in mind.

Only Hermione had no clue where that might be, and discussion about finding a new home had been scarce and oddly avoided by Severus in recent months. Now she understood why.

"Can I open them_ now?_"

An agitated hiss followed her plea. "I'm about to place a muffling charm on your mouth if you don't desist."

"Excuse me, Mister. _You're_ the one dragging me out into the middle of Merlin knows where!"

Hermione detected a faint "insufferable" comment from the Slytherin soon after and stifled more laughter as she was led further and further; to where, she knew not.

Eventually, Severus stopped and Hermione nearly tumbled right into him, cursing as she bumped him hard from behind. "Could you at least inform me when you're going to stop walking?" she huffed.

"Miss Graceful," Severus merely sneered in return, placing an arm around her shoulder and whispering into her ear, "You can now open your eyes."

Hermione took a deep breath and her eyes were met by a wondrous sight that took her breath away. In the distance, as far as she could see, lay an assortment of rolling hillsides, a few scattered cottages and farmland, but mostly an uncontaminated landscape of nothing but lush green. The English countryside.

They were at the top of a small hill, but that was all that Hermione's perception could decipher. "Where are we?" she murmured, gazing at the beautiful view in awe, as if she had stepped right into a Jane Austen novel that her taste had always revered.

"Bibury. This land is for sale. Take a look behind you."

Hermione made a half circle. The land was quite vast and cradled by woodlands opposite the fantastic view. It was secluded, yet open, tranquil, yet not entirely cut off from the world. Preventive Muggle viewing enchantments guarded it from prying eyes, as her own senses could detect them surrounding the area. Hermione listened for the environmental sounds. A few farm animals could be heard in the far distance, viewable just below the horizon line. The area, however, was otherwise unaffected, quiet...

_Perfect._

"Severus," Hermione said, finally meeting her lover's eyes; she didn't want to get her hopes up, but the subtle eagerness in his response was encouraging, despite her desire to remain calm. "How on earth did you find this place?"

"With difficulty. I've been scouting locations while you were at work."

"Cunning Slytherin."

"Mmm." A thin, handsome smirk crept across his mouth. "What do you think?"

"What do I think? It's perfect!" she returned with the slightest hesitation. "_I love it!_" Then her beaming smile slumped. "But this is the Cotswolds... It can hardly be affordable, Severus?"

Severus's audible grunt of disagreement silenced her. When she peered over at him, he was shaking his head and trying not to roll his eyes.

"The price Muggles pay to live around these parts is outrageous, I'll admit, but for us..."

"What?"

"It's still quite a bit more than I'm comfortable with spending, but... In the long run..." He was giving her a strange, questioning expression that Hermione didn't understand, until his next words were put to her so delicately they were hardly above a whisper, "If we lowered the expenses for our wedding, it might make payments for this place a little more affordable, if... If you're willing to sacrifice a few things? If not, I'll understand. And don't answer until you're completely sure."

Now fully aware of what he was getting at, Hermione breathed reassuringly and, without a flicker of hesitation, leaped into his arms, sending him off balance before he recouped and ensnared his arms about her waist. His cloak made her petite form nearly invisible.

"I love it!" she exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear. "I say yes! How is this possible, Severus? _How?_"

"Well, we _have_ been saving for two years."

"Even so! This will cost a fortune, Sev—"

"Don't worry about that. I have some savings set aside. It may be tight for us for a while, but we're both meager spenders, so we'll make do. This is an opportunity for us to live where we've always wanted. I think the investment is worth it." His black eyes brushed thoughtfully over her face. "I don't want you to be disappointed in what that might mean for the wedding though—"

Hermione answered his reservations by smacking her lips into his with a force that shook him, but he quickly succumbed. Taking Hermione's kiss as the reinforcement he needed to pursue things, Severus leaned into her passionate caress, closing his eyes and savoring the memory of the moment while it lasted.

Once Hermione pulled away, her nose still lightly touching his, there was no hint of reluctance on her part that suggested she might be withholding any doubts, and that gave him pause. "Severus, a wedding is one day," she additionally reassured him with her gentle words. "A house is forever, whether it's here or somewhere else."

"You're sure then?" Severus cupped her hands in his. "I know you have certain envisions in your mind of the perfect wedding day. You must have expectations, and I have no wish to tread on—"

"_No, Severus_," Hermione laughed his worries off and, instead, snuggled closer. "I do have an image conjured up in my mind, yes, but I can adjust it easily enough. I'm a grown up now, not a little girl playing the fairytale princess. I can be sensible. I'd rather put our money towards _this_ than a one-day event. Merlin, look at this place!" Severus kept his amusement guarded as Hermione scanned the location again with animated, enlarged eyes. "Yes, it's perfect! It really is. _Can we?_"

"If you insist, then yes."

Hermione catapulted into his arms a second time, only with her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms squeezing his neck to the point that he nearly couldn't breathe. "Thank you!" she repeated over and over again, kissing him sparingly, expressing her elation with glee.

"Well, I'm relieved you approve," he humored her with a small smile.

"_I do!_"

"Very well then."

Hermione scrutinized him through freshly beady eyes. "How much exactly is this going to cost us?"

"Not telling."

"Severus!"

"Don't stomp on my surprise, will you?" he growled, freshly irritated, which only brought an endeared smile to Hermione's lips.

"Thank you, love!" She pecked him again several times, holding on tight. "This is so much more than I ever expected!_ Thank you!_"

"Thank _you_," Severus purred back, leaning in to tickle the nape of her neck with his warm mouth.

* * *

By mid-Augustus, Hermione had miraculously found a wedding dress whilst out window shopping with her mother in central London. It had been a spur of the moment decision to enter the Muggle bridal store they had stumbled across in passing, but a welcome surprise, nevertheless.

Hermione wasn't sure how she would take to gown shopping when the time came. After all, she had always been a rather plain girl, not all that interested in fashion, makeup—or her general appearance, for that matter—though being with a man had finally sparked some of that interest, even if the wizard in question was Severus Snape. Now, the young witch was amazed at how much fun such a venture could turn out to be.

Hermione had spotted what would become her wedding dress shortly after entering the shop, a hidden jewel hanging amongst a sea of white lace, shimmering beading, various buttons, and sensual-looking corsets. She wasn't sure, however, if her instincts were being a bit too hasty when she requested to try it on.

_Hermione, you always knew how to go with your gut reaction when the moment was dire in war. Now you're unsure of how you feel when it comes to a wedding dress?_

Hermione smiled away her uncertainties for a change, and when she tried on the dress she had hand-selected—the first being one she had indulged her mother in, who was desperate to see her in it—Hermione knew instantly that it was _the one_. Evidently, so did Elizabeth, who burst into tears when her daughter emerged from the dressing room.

As Hermione met the full length mirror, she couldn't help but gasp at herself, and not in an unfavorable manner that had so often plagued her in the past. The dress seemed tailor-made to Hermione's hourglass curves. Her chest and quarter-length sleeves were covered in intricate beading and lace but with an unexpected—particularly for her—voluptuous V-neck plunge in the front and back, which elevated the dress from a beautiful sequenced number to something much more sultry and womanly, less of that of a very young, innocent bride.

_And I'm_ hardly _innocent_, Hermione snickered to herself.

The off-white satin mixed well with her long chestnut curls and golden irises, even accentuating them in an attractive way Hermione hadn't noticed before. Even without much makeup or thoughtful care to her wild hair, Hermione was surprised by just how arresting a bride she proved.

Was this for real? Was the Muggle mirror playing tricks on her?

"Sweetheart," she vaguely heard her mother's voice creep up behind her, her similar silhouette coming into view as she stood next to her daughter, gazing into the mirror in awe, "you look like the most beautiful bride in the world..."

That was when Hermione finally lost her composure. Her mother was right. She was beautiful. Any insecurities that afflicted her just beneath the surface were washed away with her tears of overwhelming acceptance.

_Severus will go mad for this_, she considered excitedly once she got herself under some measure of control again.

As if on cue, her mother piped up as she fanned out the long trail, a mixture of more beading and lace, "You think Severus will like it? I can't imagine he wouldn't."

Hermione dabbed at her eyes with a tissue one of the bridal consultants had handed her and refocused on herself in the mirror. A smile of self-confidence mapped its way across her pink-colored cheeks, showcasing her answer before it came.

"Oh, yes, Mum... He'll absolutely love it."

* * *

The next several months that followed were steady, if not uneventful. With Severus back at Hogwarts, in a secure position as Professor of Potions once more, and the pair resuming their separate, yet jointed, routines, Hermione found herself often left to the task of planning their wedding herself. Severus would write and give her his opinions whenever asked, or discuss them openly with her when he was home, but, for the most part, the tasks _did_ fall into Hermione's hands.

Considering their budget, however, and with already getting the venue at Hogwarts secured and "Okayed," by McGongall, Hermione was pleasantly surprised at how swift and flawless everything else fell into place. Granted, she also had her mother to help at every whim, who very much took charge on a lot of the lesser things that sometimes escaped Hermione's attention, and Mrs. Weasley asked to prepare her wedding cake and all of the food, which Hermione wasn't about to object to, even if Severus was slightly less supportive.

The months leading up to the wedding went by remarkably fast and were proceeded by a few other notable events, including Hermione's twenty-first birthday and Severus's fortieth. Severus wasn't home on the actual day, but Hermione made a point of ensuring that it was still celebrated with several owls, purposely obnoxious Patronus messages, and a cake she had sent along ahead of time.

"I'm not speaking to you anymore," he growled at her by the time evening rolled around.

Hermione sniggered as she got into her pajamas and conjured her own Patronus response. "Oh, dear me. Did the staff get wind that it's your birthday today?"

"Very funny!" his black panther snarled back upon its return. "I've told you before what I think about preposterous birthday celebrations, Hermione. Was going behind my back and sending that ruddy cake to McGonagall _really_ necessary? I'm about to be dragged off to the staff room for a bunch of mortifying nonsense that's entirely _your_ fault!"

"Oh, codswallop! Don't be a crab, Severus. Suck it up and go have fun."

"_That's all you have to say for yourself?_" he hissed, his frustration mounting.

Hermione, however, found it rather adorable and wasn't at all offset by his ill temper. "Yes, love. You only turn forty once, so get over it. Merlin forbid we should actually celebrate the day you were born!"

"You're the only one!"

"I am not, Severus. Now stop it." She suppressed further laughter by sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. "Anyway, I thought you weren't talking to me anymore?"

Just as she predicted, the wild cat returned a minute or so later. "I'm not," he grumbled, his reply much softer than before, though still just as aggravated. "I'm leaving."

"Happy birthday, love!"

"So you keep reminding me."

"You'd rather me not wish you a happy birthday?"

"When_ you_ reach the tender age of forty, my dear, we shall see how swiftly the tide turns."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Mister."

"I mean it. It'll be much deserved payback, and I'm thoroughly looking forward to it."

"Shut up and go to your birthday party, you miserable louse." Once her giggling subsided, she added on an additional "I love you more," to her message and curled up with her book in bed, not expecting anything else from her wizard, until the panther came leaping through the fireplace, nearly sending her flying out of bed.

"I love you, too," came his rigid respond, "but right now I don't."

The Patronus dissipated into the air, leaving Hermione to crackle loudly and resume her book after he had left. _Poor man_, she mused. _It's so bothersome to be loved._

* * *

As the ceremony to mark the third anniversary of the end of the Second Wizarding War drew to a close, Severus's behavior became slightly more disconcerting. Much like he had in previous years when the 10th of May came around, Severus grew somewhat detached and quieter than the norm. Hermione understood the behavior, but no one else did, including his godson, Draco, who had stopped by numerous times in the weeks leading up to the ceremony.

It had taken time, just as it had with Ron, but Hermione and the Slytherin were now on remarkably good terms, much more so than she was with her old friend. In the past year, Draco had made plenty of visits to Spinner's End, even when Severus wasn't around, and Hermione found that she rather enjoyed the young man's company now that he wasn't playing the part of the arrogant prat anymore.

"You bringing Astoria?" Hermione questioned one evening over drinks at the house.

Draco had stopped by, though he didn't offer to assist Hermione in packing up their belongings. Instead, he sat comfortably on the couch and observed as she set to magically taping several boxes worth of books closed that lined the various shelves in their sitting room, he, himself, never lifting a finger.

_Some things never change_, Hermione snorted, with Draco unawares of anything being out of sorts.

"Yeah, I am. She's nervous to see Severus."

"Really?" Hermione, crouched on her knees as she gingerly placed three worn books into a cardboard box, eyed him curiously. "But she's a Slytherin. He'll automatically gravitate towards her."

"Funny, Granger."

Hermione shrugged. "Just trying to help."

"Anyway, can you please tell him to be on his best behavior? I'd prefer him to _not_ verbally embarrass me in front of her. I..." He swallowed, almost looking shamefaced. "I really like her..."

"Draco, no one tells Severus what to say or not say, including me, you know that." Hermione restrained the urge to laugh, seeing how visibly distraught Draco was. "But I'll tell you what, I'll put in a good word for you."

"Oh, _swell_," he muttered sarcastically. "Thanks!"

"That's about all I _can_ do."

"So, whatever happened to that Muggle couple that was going to buy this place?"

"Fell through." Hermione paused to place more books into the box in front of her. "But another older couple took it off our hands. We asked for an extension though, until our new house is finished. I'm surprised they agreed."

"I'm surprised you were able to sell the place at all."

"It's a _Muggle_ couple, Draco," Hermione reminded him with some underlying resentment. "That's why."

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, well..."

"Is Severus nervous?"

Hermione stopped what she was doing and arched an eyebrow. "Nervous?"

"About the wedding?"

"Honestly, I think he's more nervous about the war ceremony than the wedding."

"Really?"

"Well, he's been surprisingly calm so far, but then Severus keeps everything under wraps and I don't see him every day, so who knows."

Draco scratched his chin and stared into the crackling fireplace just beyond where Hermione sat amongst a pile of boxes. "Somehow I can't see my godfather being at all comfortable standing up in front of people, saying those vows aloud."

Hermione smiled, humored at the thought. "You might be surprised."

"Huh?"

"He's nervous, I'm sure, but he's changed a lot. He's getting more comfortable in his own skin, I think. He'll be all right."

Draco bowed his head, light blonde hairs brushing against his eyelashes. "I'm proud of him," he murmured so softly Hermione almost missed it entirely. Hermione was too taken aback to respond, but Draco's next words nearly shook her. "He's turned out so differently from everyone else at the end of this mess. My father, he..." His face suddenly tensed when he ceased talking, something catching at the back of his throat before he could resume. "I'm just relieved with how things worked out for Severus."

"So am I."

Draco's blue eyes met Hermione's, evidently searching them for something. "How's his health?" he asked, his tone quite serious. "Any sign of a cure yet?"

Hermione's body language told him his answer. Her shoulders caved and her head bent lower.

"No, I'm afraid not."

Draco's mouth sunk at that disappointing bit of news. "How about the tonics? Are they still working?"

"Yes, and no. They're always being adjusted, and so far there haven't been any major causes for concern, except..."

"It's worse when he's at school," Draco finished soberly; they had several discussions over the past year, naturally without Severus knowing.

"Yes... His stress level is always terrible when he's away. And he still isn't sleeping well, so it all makes his symptoms worse."

"Can't they lighten his workload?"

"Severus is too prideful to ask."

"Well, he needs to get over that!" Draco stated with feeling, clasping down on his beer bottle.

"I know... I try to encourage him wherever possible, but you know him. He's a stubborn arse, and he pushes himself too hard."

Hermione slowly flicked her wand and levitated more books into neat stacks, whilst placing others into open boxes, foregoing any further discussion on the matter. Worrying about Severus when he was away was more or less a routine now, and Hermione didn't want to put a damper on her guest, even if it was Draco who understood better than most.

"I'm sorry, Hermione..."

Hermione's orbs flickered. It was still rather rare for Draco to address her as Hermione rather than Granger, as it had been for years. She was appreciative of his efforts, as he was clearly working on speaking and behaving more appropriately towards her, but hearing him utter her name without malice still struck her every time she heard it.

"I wish there was more that could be done to help him."

Hermione wanted to smile through the sudden pains in her chest. "Me, too." Her voice was slight and strained. "Thanks, Draco."

"For what?"

"For asking, for starters, but also for caring."

Draco's look of confusion passed. "People_ do_ care, Hermione. It may not seem like it very often, but you and Severus _do_ have friends. You aren't alone."

Once again, Hermione found herself shaken by the young man's charity, so different and unrecognizable from the old Draco. She swallowed hard, suppressing the heartache that was now seeping to the surface.

"Yes, I - I know. Thank you..."

"Even if Weaslebee's still being a lowly prat, the rest of us care."

Hermione's eyes squinted at the now freshly amused bloke on her couch. "That's enough, Draco."

"What did I say that wasn't true?"

"How 'bout getting your arse off that bloody couch and helping me? Severus wouldn't like it if he knew you were just sitting there, you know."

Draco took another swig of his beer and brushed off her threat with a dismissive wave and a handsome smirk. "Whatever, Granger. I didn't come here to do manual labor."

"You've got a wand, you know!"

"Yes, I do," he grinned, showcasing his pearly white teeth. "And I don't intend to use it. I'm just here to annoy you."

Hermione shook her head with a heavy sigh and resumed her work, not all that crossly. She was grateful to have company tonight. She and Draco continued conversing late into the evening about hers and Severus's wedding plans, the upcoming war ceremony, and even the prospect of a proposal to a one Astoria Greengrass.

_Yes_, Hermione tried to cheer herself up after the sensitive topic they had briefly touched upon, _there's much to look forward to..._


	65. Heart's Desire

**A/N: In case you didn't get the e-mail notification for those following this story, Chapter 64 is also up.**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 65: Heart's Desire**

"You all right?"

Severus had been fiddling with his wrist buttons for nearly an hour, both while they got ready and then during the excruciating wait for the war commemoration to get under way. "Peachy," he spat under his breath, one of his quivering hands moving from his opposite wrist to his cravat to loosen its hold around his neck.

"Severus, really, there's no need to fuss."

"Really?" he snarled in a hushed, though uneasy, voice. "Hasn't there been enough unnecessary gawking in our direction since we arrived?"

Hermione laughed to lighten the mood. "We haven't been here all that long, love."

"_Still._"

Hermione sighed away some of the unpleasantness. It was true—there had been a lot of unnecessary excitement when Severus entered the Great Hall at Hogwarts with Hermione looped on his arm. The rude ogling and heightened chatter was to be anticipated, but it was still disruptive and annoying to the couple, nonetheless.

Harry and a few members of the Order—Kingsley, McGonagall, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, even Luna and Neville, recently engaged and stammering through his hasty greeting—conversed with them respectfully, which Hermione, at the very least, appreciated. She wasn't surprised when she spotted Ron on the opposite end of the Great Hall, where this well-publicized and talked about ceremony was taking place, socializing with his brothers and a familiar lady with long blonde curls on his arm: Lavender Brown. He leaned against the wall, a Butterbeer in one hand, looking casually smug, or so she thought. He and Lavender made eye contact with Hermione and Severus when they made their entrance but then turned away just as quickly, Ron scowling and mumbling something under his breath, Lavender shooting Hermione a rather hostile glare that felt rudely uncalled for.

Hermione had no idea what that was all about. She was certainly spoken for now and not the least bit interested in pining for Ron's attention. More importantly, however, she couldn't deny feeling slighted by Ron's blatant dismissal. After a hurtful brush-off like that, Hermione thought their friendship might be momentarily back at square one.

Noting her frown that was obviously directed towards the redhead across the room, Severus brought a protective arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, ignoring the selective stares that such a small, affectionate act received. With a silent exchange, Hermione smiled and returned to the conversation within their circle, currently consisting of Molly and Arthur, Ginny and Harry, McGonagall, and the newly enlisted Professor Aberforth Dumbledore, who had taken over McGonagall's former post as Professor of Transfiguration and Head of Gryffindor House. She only just caught the tail end of Dumbledore's remark.

"—saw Ariana. I suppose I should've expected it, but, well..." The wizard with the long grey beard grunted, more to ease his emotions than to clear his throat. McGonagall reached out and patted his shoulder.

"Oh, Abe, I've told you about not looking into that ruddy mirror."

"It isn't my fault I stumbled upon it, thanks—no doubt—to my brother for never seeing fit to get rid of it like he claimed!"

"I think I'm all right never looking into it again," Harry chimed in, both hands shoved into his dress robe pockets. "Don't go back, sir. Honestly, your brother warned me of what it could do."

Hermione leaned in close to Severus, not wanting to disrupt the conversation. "Erm, what are we talking about?"

"The Mirror of Erised."

"What?" Hermione's eyes lit up, fascinated. "I thought Dumbledore removed it from the school? Harry said—"

"Indeed, he told us all that he had, but it's shown up again."

"Where?"

"Not far from where it used to reside on the fourth floor," Severus explained. "That area is still being reconstructed; charms and enchantments have been backfiring. Aberforth was working up there the other night and stumbled upon it in an old passageway that used to be sealed off."

Hermione's eyes constricted. "Why would Dumbledore hide it in there?" she questioned, not aware that others were tuning in. "Why would he lie about having it moved?"

"Beats me, Miss Granger," Aberforth interrupted, clearly disgruntled. "My brother was a strange sort of fellow, undoubtedly. I haven't a clue what this latest riddle of his involves."

_Curious..._

The conversation soon turned to that year's curriculum, and Hermione found herself lapsing back into silence, observing those around her. The atmosphere was a mixture of sadness and reserve, respectful and meditative. It wasn't an all-around happy occasion; it would, perhaps, take years for people to get over their emotional and physical scars that the devastation of war had left in its wake. Hermione counted herself and Severus amongst them, but, briefly pondering the idea that Severus might not have been here to mark this anniversary with her was a grim thought that left her stricken and all the more fiercely determined to move forward.

More than once, Hermione found herself unconsciously staring at her fiancé, the contact only broken when Severus caught her looking, giving her a skeptical regard—that crease between his eyebrows taking form—that caused her to blush at being caught. Both were grateful that the commemoration was to be brief and to the point. Having been forced into a rare act of formal socializing, it wasn't difficult—for Hermione—to sense how ill-at-ease Severus was with so much chatter and forced cordiality.

Severus only addressed anyone when directly spoken to, otherwise gladly leaving Hermione and everyone else to do most of the talking. Discussing the war wasn't agreeable to him either; thus, Severus fell silent and still until the subject matter passed, purposely distracting himself by scanning the room instead. Hermione was proud that he was at least making an effort tonight, but by the time the speeches finally got underway, Severus was visibly anxious, and not without reason.

The relatively large crowd, including notable reporters from _The Daily Prophet_, gathered at the commemorative statue erected outside the Forbidden Forest just as darkness began to fall. A tall obelisk of white marble, surrounded by a series of torches at its base, illuminated the many names of all the Order members, both present and fallen, and set the somber tone for the evening.

"There you are, Severus," Hermione whispered into his ear.

She had spotted her own name easily enough near the top of the monument. It was somewhat strange to see 'Granger' attached, however. She was rather looking forward to changing it to his. Hermione had half expected Severus to not get a noteworthy position on the memorial, but, to her utter surprise, it turned out that he had, and was only a few names further down from her own.

Giving a sideward glance, Hermione caught the flicker of light in the black pool of the man's eyes, staring up at the commemorative statue—and at his name—with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. Names were soon read off individually by Kingsley, with a few compliments about each person being made to all; but Severus's name was purposely skipped over. Hermione was peeved and illustrated her disappointment with several audible huffs and heated remarks, but Severus wasn't at all surprised. What the hell was he even doing here anyhow? No one understood. To all the guests present, he was still the enemy; _he always would be._

But then, once the list of names was through, Kingsley abruptly came back to Severus, igniting a rowdy commotion at the mere mention of his name. What followed, however, Hermione was hardly prepared for, and Severus even less so. Harry, who had been standing at a podium near the Minister and McGonagall, walked to the front of the raised platform to address the crowd, gazing straight out into the audience in search of his friend and former professor. And then he spoke, something Severus's heightened anxiety was anticipating and dreading.

"I know he's going to hate me for this," Harry began, getting the crowd laughing, though they had no idea at first who he was talking about. Hermione felt Severus's entire body stiffen at her side. "Most of you, I know many months ago, were wondering and questioning why those of us in the Order were so adamant about including Severus Snape's name amongst us on this commemorative monument.

"I hope that now, and if not now then in time, you'll all come to truly understand _why_ it was so important." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink into the mostly quieted audience. "I owe a great deal of my success in defeating the Dark Lord to Severus Snape, the particulars of which I've only shared in brief, out of respect for the professor's privacy. However, he deserves special mention here tonight, because without him, I would probably not be standing here, marking this anniversary with all of you.

"Severus Snape gave more than anyone else did in these wars, and that's a fact I'll gladly argue with anyone who sees fit to deny it. His many sacrifices are the reason the Order was privy to what was happening in the Dark Lord's inner circle—vital information we wouldn't have known otherwise if it wasn't for him. Severus Snape's protection kept me alive, and his revelations allowed me to understand what I needed to do in order to defeat the Dark Lord."

Harry locked eyes on Hermione and Severus amongst the crowd before continuing. "We all know the sacrifices that are so often unavoidable in times of war, but Severus's Snape's sacrifices are many; much more than I think most of us gathered here could endure and come out of unscathed. His actions weren't popular, they weren't well-received, their intentions weren't even known by any of us until the very end, but those actions are, indeed, sacrifices, make no mistake, which is why we're here; which is why _I'm_ here..."

Harry abruptly turned to the Minister and nodded, causing Severus to flinch and withdraw a little from Hermione's touch. "Severus?" she whispered, concerned, despite the fresh tears looming in her eyes.

"What is this?" he snarled softly, finding it difficult to speak.

"I... I'm not sure, love, but stop fidgeting. What are you worried about—"

"I know the professor's not going to want to do this," Harry called out, holding what looked to be an engraved box in his hand, "but Severus Snape, would you please come forward? We have something here to present to you." Seeing the wizard's flicker of panic just feet away, Harry added above the curious whispers reverberating around them, "If you had gotten wind of this beforehand, sir, we'd have never managed to get you here tonight."

There was some soft chuckling from the crowd but mostly people just stared on, waiting for the suspicious-looking wizard in black to make a move; but he was immobile as the commemorative obelisk itself.

"Did you know about this?" he turned to Hermione, barely moving his lips, and showcasing his alarm for her alone.

"No, Severus," she insisted, taking him gently by the hand. "I hadn't the faintest idea. Go on. Everyone's waiting."

"But..."

Severus hastily looked about him. It was dark, which he was thankful for, as it made it far more difficult for any of them to thoroughly judge his reaction. Severus reluctantly stepped forward, and only with a little prodding from Hermione at his back. He strolled towards the podium, doing his best to give off that trademark mask of indifference, and the crowd silently parted to let him through.

Hermione, watching all the while, felt a crashing wave of emotion overrun her. She had no idea that any of this had been planned for Severus; had she known, it would have been quite the headache in persuading him to come. For the moment, she was too stunned to process it in full, but when she saw Severus slowly making his way to the podium to accept whatever it was Harry was going to present him with, a selection of tears finally fell from her eyes.

Hadn't she fought like hell for others to see the good in him for so long? To try to persuade others to understand and accept all he had sacrificed and endured for the war efforts? In a matter of moments, all of the young witch's scruples seemed to be finally being acknowledged—at last. Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth, unaware that Ginny, Luna, and a handful of others had made their way over to join her by then.

Severus kept eye contact with those in front of him—Kingsley and Harry—and didn't so much as turn in the direction of the sea of people watching his every move. He stopped before Harry, his hair falling forward into his eyes, his mouth cast firmly shut, waiting.

"Severus Snape, on behalf of the Order and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Kingsley stated formally, as Harry kept a steady gaze on the man he had once so despised, "we would like to present you with the Order of Merlin, First Class, for your contributions as a spy to the First and Second Wizarding Wars, and for your contributions as Headmaster to ensuring the safety and welfare of Hogwarts' Muggle-born students."

Harry opened the small, wooden box and showcased the admirable-looking gold medal. Severus stared at it quietly, without much perceivable emotion, as Harry removed it from its holder and presented it to him, holding it up to place around the wizard's neck. Voices could be heard murmuring to one another as this played out, but Hermione had blocked out the noise. She watched through watery eyes as Severus made a slight bow, his long hair shielding his profile from view, and as Harry leaned in to say something quietly before backing away with a gesture of appreciation.

Kingsley and Harry both extended their arms out to shake Severus's hand, which he hesitated before accepting, still obviously taken aback. Then he turned on his heel and swiftly headed back down the podium towards Hermione, his cloak billowing behind him in an intimidating fashion that caused the crowd to part again.

It was eerily quiet at first, but then an eruption of applause broke out, at first, delicate and light-sounding before it spread quickly amongst the crowd. Severus couldn't help but pause in his tracks, shocked and highly unsure of the crowd's reaction. But the applause only grew, slowly building until there were even individual cheers and hurrahs amongst those present.

When Severus's eyes met Hermione's, now just a few feet away, he found his footing again and made his way directly into her arms, either oblivious to the public's display of acknowledgement or too overwhelmed to care what anyone else thought. He allowed an emotionally wrought Hermione to wrap her arms around his neck and grip him tight, burrowing her face in all of his raven hair, crying softly into his neck.

The rest of the world fell away, and all was serene and harmonious as Severus held onto Hermione with all his might, terribly uncomfortable with the recognition bestowed upon him, and yet, deeply appreciative—and even moved, though he wouldn't admit it—by the Orders', Hogwarts', and the crowds' sentiments. In a matter of moments, all of the misunderstanding and doubt that had plagued Severus since he survived Nagini's bite seemed to wash away to the ringing applause surrounding him.

His work had finally been recognized. His efforts had been justified at last. A small fraction of his dignity had been returned to him in tact.

And Severus Snape was most grateful to have Hermione there to a share it all with, for she was the only one who had stood by him through everything. The last thing he wanted was to let go of her, so he didn't, allowing Hermione to hug him and whisper into his ear that he "deserved this."

_Perhaps she's right..._

* * *

"Hermione—"

"I just want to see it, Severus!"

Hermione scurried down the hallway, yanking on Severus's hand, demanding that he keep up. They had separated themselves from the rest of the crowd following the ceremony, and Hermione only had one goal in mind before they retired for the evening. She wasn't about to leave the castle without seeing it for herself.

It wasn't particularly warm in this part of the castle, but then they were up on the fourth floor, in a part of the school that was still under heavy reconstruction. Hermione had been read the riot act on keeping her wand handy for any backfiring enchantments as they progressed towards an oversized mirror at the far end of a dark corridor.

"This isn't your cleverest idea," Severus snarled in protest, his limp hair thrashing against his face; Hermione was in a hurry and not adhering to any of his warnings.

_Surprise, surprise!_

"Oh, rubbish," she tittered, getting increasingly excited the closer they got.

When they reached the mirror, she turned to Severus, waiting on him to grant her access. The passage that lay behind the mirror still wasn't in the sturdiest of conditions, and if there was anyone who could penetrate the magic and give them both an easier go of entering without the risk of stones collapsing on top of them, it was the former Headmaster himself, to whom the castle still yielded its magic and respected as if he had never stepped down from the high post.

Severus reached out and touched the wall, as if he were cradling something precious, his thoughts focused. Soon, the mirror dipped sideways and the entryway within the wall expanded, scattering dust and debris aside so that Hermione and Severus could enter without resorting to crawling.

Hermione didn't waste any time, but smiled and strolled into the gloomy passageway, lighting her wand. Severus followed suit and, with an elegant wave of his arm, brought the entire abandoned room into more light. Parts of the walls were still cracked and additional dust trickled down from the weakened, high-vaulted ceiling above.

"If this place caves in on us, Hermione," Severus's acid tone broke the stillness, leading her to suppress her laughter, "the fault is entirely your own."

"Fair enough."

Her voice was dreamy, far away, and Severus traced her attention to the Mirror of Erised perched against the opposite wall. It was in surprisingly good condition, considering where it had been stored all these years.

Hermione drew closer, but with caution, almost as if she expected something to happen if she got too close. Now that the moment was here, why was she hesitating? She stopped a few feet away and turned around, her livened eyes anxious and curious all at the same time.

"You don't mind, do you?" she whispered, voicing some reluctance.

"Do I mind your incessant need to satisfy your own curiosity all the time?" Severus returned with a dramatic eye roll. "Yes."

That helped her relax some. "You don't have to look if you don't want to."

"Who said I didn't want to?" he challenged, narrowing his irises, which matched the shadows scattered throughout the room.

"I'm just saying, Sev—"

"Oh, go on."

Hermione gave him her warmhearted grin and whipped her head back towards the mirror. Taking a calculated breath, she put her wand away and stepped forward into the mirror's hold, where she would finally be able to see with her own eyes what Harry had gone on about all these years: her heart's desire.

Of course, she expected to see Severus. Beyond that, however, she knew not. She didn't necessarily anticipate anything or anyone else, but she was curious nonetheless to have it confirmed.

Severus respectfully waited at a distance, wanting nothing more than to read and extract Hermione's reaction. He refused to allow himself to panic. If she didn't see him, then...

_I'm not bloody sure what we'll do, in that case._

As Hermione stared into the mirror, only her silhouette stared back at her at first, and for a fleeting moment, she panicked. Wouldn't she see Severus? He would surely make himself known to her, wouldn't he?

Then, to her utter relief, her lover came into view behind her, only he wasn't there. He was still standing at a considerable distance, leaning against a stone column with his arms crossed over his chest. The Severus in the mirror, however, was directly behind her, staring into her very soul like he always seemed capable of doing with just a look. His dark eyes were soft and not hardened like the stone beneath her feet. A series of long fingers came to rest on her left shoulder, and Hermione instinctively reached up to touch his hand, though it was only her bare shoulder that she felt, not Severus's actual touch.

Hermione felt calm, content, at peace when she stared into the Mirror of Erised, with Severus standing there with her. It was all the confirmation Hermione hadn't really been looking for but already knew: _Severus was her heart's desire._ He was her everything...

_I knew it_, she confirmed with a broad smile.

But then Hermione spotted movement behind Severus's long cloak, and what emerged from behind him nearly made her jerk and let out an involuntary gasp. A small child—maybe five or six-years of age—emerged, hanging onto Severus's cloak and smiling up at her. Severus didn't seem at all perturbed by the child's presence. In fact, he reached an arm around the child to bring her closer.

Hermione studied the little being with fascination. She was quite fair, with long, loose waves of chestnut brown that matched her own. Her hair wasn't wild or bushy, however; it was much more tamed and controlled. She wore a yellow dress, and there was a resemblance in her features that matched them both.

_Merlin... A child..._ Our _child..._

Then there was more movement from behind Severus's cloak, and, this time, Hermione _did_ gasp out loud. Two more children, younger than the first, popped their heads out and gazed up at her—their mother—with deeply-embedded affection she didn't quite understand, but gravitated towards anyway.

The elder of the two was a startling replica of her father with long, straight black hair, a very pale complexion, eyes dark like Severus's, and a handsome face. She was wearing a purple dress of a similar cut to the eldest in yellow, and when she paused to look up at Severus, even her profile was remarkably like his, though her nose was much smaller and not as distinct.

The littlest of the three, who couldn't be more than three or four years old, struck Hermione when they made eye contact. For a split second, Hermione thought she was staring at herself as a little girl. The youngster had just as ferocious curls as she that sprouted every which way out of her head. Her eyes were round and large—though darker than hers—and her smile...

_My god, that's me..._

It wasn't her, but it _was_ her daughter. There was no mistaking the uncompromising connection.

_Three girls..._

Hermione was in awe, unaware of tearing up as she stared down at the three beautiful, individual faces gazing back at her. She crouched down to be eye level with them and, without thinking, reached out and touched the mirror, forgetting for a moment that she couldn't actually touch the children—hers and Severus's daughters—though she desperately wanted to; she ached for them, as if they were already a part of her.

_How is this not real?_

Then Hermione spotted something—someone—behind Severus, though the being was standing at a distance and not entirely in focus._ Another one?_ Hermione's eyes widened and her jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

A fourth child loomed in the background, the smallest of them all, and was, perhaps, the most riveting-looking child Hermione had ever seen, with large, expressive obsidian eyes, black curls that would make females the world over envious, and perfectly pallid skin. She was the equivalent to a porcelain doll, with the rosy-red cheeks and lovely eyelashes to match.

But why wouldn't the little one come closer? Hermione longed to see her up close. The little girl waved and bounced excitedly, but she didn't step any closer to Hermione or Severus, much to her dismay.

They were all lovely; all resembling Hermione and Severus in some distinctive and very personal way. They were quite possibly, if Hermione dared to hope, _perfect..._ And just what she wanted.

_Four daughters?_

Hermione felt lightheaded. This was her heart's desire? Not just a child, as that longing had been buried deep within for some time, but an extensive family of four?

Hermione answered her own rhetorical questions. _Of course this was what she wanted._ She longed for it all; she pined for these wonderful, miniature beings as if they had been plucked right out of her heart, out of her very soul.

Then reality hit her like a ton of bricks. _What will Severus think of my heart's desire? How on earth will he feel once he realizes that he isn't enough to satisfy me?_

Hermione knew it was most certainly possible to be happy with just her wizard. She sensed it in the deepest part of her being, to be sure. But now... She was looking into the mirror and seeing the possibility of an entirely different future; one that—to her—felt even richer and more fulfilling—_and more right!_—than what lay ahead at the moment.

How could she let this go? How would she get these achingly beautiful little girls out of her head, and out of her heart?

"Hermione?"

Severus had silently walked up to her, staring at her with overt skepticism and concern. It was only then that Hermione realized she was, in fact, crying. She tore her eyes away from the Severus and children in the mirror, though her hand remained pressed to the glass, and stood up to face the real Severus standing before her.

"What is it?" he urged, his frantic eyes focused on her tears. "What's wrong?"

"N - Nothing's wrong, I just..." she sniffed, and then met his face. "I want you to look."

Severus blinked. "What?"

"I... I want you to look and tell me what you see first."

Severus appeared more doubtful than ever. "Hermione," he began quite delicately, as if it nearly pained him to ask, "did you not see me—"

"_Please_, Severus. Just have a look."

Hermione forced herself to step back from the mirror and dabbed at her eyes, pressing Severus quietly to do as she asked. He took a deep breath of caution before submitting to her request, his mind laden with concerns for what she might have seen. He stepped in front of the mirror, his expression at first blank and unreadable.

Hermione scrutinized his face, however. She wasn't about to miss out on any glimmer of opportunity in catching his reaction. Would he see what she saw? Would at least _one_ child be present, at the very least? Or did the man truly, deep down, not desire a family as she had come to suspect?

Eventually, Severus's hand moved to touch the mirror, his tight mask of an expression looking a bit sad, and perhaps even forsaken, or so Hermione thought. _Oh, no_, Hermione considered frantically. _Is he seeing Lily and not me? No... He wouldn't... He couldn't... He loves _me_..._

Hermione was just about to call out to get his attention when Severus's eyes drifted from whatever was in front of him towards the ground. Hermione's heart started to pound against her chest, particularly after she witnessed the flash of surprise that swept across his dark eyes, the rest of his face having gone ashen and almost translucent.

Severus's shoulders tensed and for several breathless seconds, he didn't move. He simply stared—hard—at whatever it was he was scrutinizing. Then a perceivable shock twisted his face a second time and he removed his hand from the glass, as if he were somehow contaminating it with his touch.

Hermione waited and waited, but it was agonizing not knowing what he saw. After several more minutes of stifled silence and suppressed anxiety, to Hermione's sigh of relief, Severus slowly turned away from the mirror. His pupils were larger than normal and he appeared visibly shaken, which didn't reassure Hermione whatsoever. She ran to him in just a few steps and grabbed him forcefully by the arms, outstretching her neck to examine him closely.

"What did you see, Severus?"

"Um, I..." It wasn't like Severus to stammer or be lost for words.

"Did you..." Hermione forced the question out of her, an expression of hurt marring her face. "Did you see Lily?"

Severus's long eyelashes fluttered, startled. "What? No, of course not."

"Oh! Oh... Good. I - I'm relieved."

"I saw you..."

"I - I saw you, too." She paused, thinking he might say more, but he only stared at her, still perturbed by something. She could only pray it was over what she was hoping. "Did you see anything else? Anyone else?"

Severus's unwavering stare didn't falter. Hermione's cheeks flushed a deep, scarlet red; she was more nervous than ever. Why wouldn't he answer? What was wrong?

"It's time to go," he whispered at last, nearly catapulting her heart into the pit of her stomach. She hadn't anticipated _that_ to be his eventual response.

"What? Severus—"

"I've indulged you here long enough," he insisted; his tone wasn't bitter or angry, but very much resolved. "Come, it's late."

Severus extended his arm out for her to take. Hermione was struck and couldn't speak, though she certainly wanted to at some point once her brain caught up with her reaction. She reluctantly looped her arm through his and mechanically allowed Severus to lead her out of the secret room, but not before chancing one more fleeting glance at the mirror over her shoulder.

_How can I walk away from this?_

Her heart felt as if it were sinking, so she clung on to Severus, who consented to wrap his arm around her shoulder and draw her away from her deepest want; but it didn't dull the terrible pang as they exited the castle and returned home to Spinner's End for their last week of residence. The pain in her chest only magnified tenfold, and she didn't sleep much at all that night. Unbeknownst to her, however, neither did Severus.

* * *

The next two or three days were off for both of them, and Hermione didn't like it one bit. The wedding was less than a month away. Severus couldn't possibly be getting cold feet, but then he had grown so withdrawn that Hermione hardly knew what to do about it. Any time she tried to broach the subject of the mirror, Severus would simply present her with the same answer.

"Hermione, I told you: I'll tell you what I saw when I'm ready. I just... I can't right now. I need to process this first. I'm sorry."

It was a major step that he hadn't snapped, stomped off, or gave her a one word reply, but Hermione didn't feel comforted or put to ease by his secrecy either. The third evening of a strained atmosphere was the last straw to Hermione's angst-ridden nerves.

Hermione entered their bedroom at Spinner's End, which was all but packed away, except for their bed and a few items of clothing, and found Severus leaning against one of the bedposts, his back turned to her, and staring directly into the empty fireplace. She startled and approached him with caution.

"Severus?"

He acknowledged her with a silent move of his head. Hermione carefully drew in front of him and stared up at him in earnest.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," he whispered decidedly; Hermione slumped her shoulders, ready to climb into bed and leave him alone when his next answer rattled her. "No. Sorry. No."

"Oh... Well, will you tell me what you saw now?"

Severus gazed down at her with a softer, though apprehensive, disposition. "If you tell me what you saw first."

Hermione eyes squinted, hesitant, but then they carefully opened up to him as she took his hands in hers, rubbing her thumbs against his warm palms. "I saw... Children. Our children."

Hermione braced herself for several possible reactions, none of them favorable. Severus lowered his eyes an inch or two but kept his intense focus on her.

"Children, as in plural," he repeated, to which she gradually nodded. "How many?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, it was three at first, and then... There was a fourth. Four daughters."

A muscle twitched in Severus's jaw, but he didn't look away. "So, you really aren't content if it were to be just us." It was a statement, not a question, and a horribly direct one, at that.

"I... I could be, Severus. I know I could be, but... I'd love to have a family. Eventually. Some day. Not tomorrow, not even next year, but... Yes, I'd really like us to have a family at some point."

"I see."

Hermione moved closer and clamped onto a fistful of his buttons. "Talk to me, Severus? Please?" Her plea was fragile, and more than enough to get Severus to obey, albeit quietly and still somewhat withdrawn.

"I saw children, too," he answered after a moment; the shimmer in Hermione's eyes at that stunning news was unmistakable, and somewhat broke his heart. "The same as you. Three very distinct and clear... A fourth..."

"In the background?"

"Yes."

"Me, too!" Hermione was amazed that they both saw exactly the same thing, but was just as puzzled as she had been for days about what that fourth child could represent. "I wonder what she means..."

"I'm not sure."

"Was she beautiful? Black hair?"

"Yes... They all were..."

Severus now looked and sounded very far away, lost deep in thought. Hermione smiled up at him and unconsciously twirled her fingers around his clasps.

"The eldest looked like a good mix between the pair of us. The other two... Well, one looked like you and one looked like me."

"I..." Severus seemed at a loss for words. "Yes, it was the same for me. The exact same."

Though fearful of what his next words might be, Hermione forced herself to ask, "And?"

"And..."

"Severus, _please_ tell me what you're thinking."

"I... I don't know. That's just it."

"Pardon?"

"I have no idea what to think of this, Hermione." His brow contorted, perceivably pained and unsure. "I... I have difficulty seeing myself as a father. I thought that opportunity had passed me by a long time ago. I came to accept that that wouldn't be my life.

"I... I don't think I'd make a very good parent. I'm a work-in-progress myself, and I hardly know the right way to behave around children."

"Severus..."

"Hermione, my childhood is enough to put me off ever starting a family. I never want to be my parents. We know the repercussions that befall those who've experienced abuse. I'd _never_ want a child to suffer at my hands."

"Severus, how can you think yourself even capable of—"

"Have you forgotten how I treated you as a student?"

"Oh, Severus, we both know what lay behind all that."

"It doesn't matter. I generally all-around dislike students—"

"Your own child would be very different, Severus, we both know that." Hermione brushed a gentle hand over his brow. "There are lots of parents who don't particularly like other people's children. It's not an uncommon thing, you know."

"Hermione, there's still the risk that I might..."

Hermione's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. "Might what?"

Looking shamefaced, Severus's allowed his hair to curtain around his features. "That I might rear her poorly."

Hermione flinched. "What?"

"I've learned a lot about how to treat others from you, Hermione. I never had that guidance growing up. I suffer greatly from things that, for most parents, come naturally. I've never had that parental gene."

He ceased talking when Hermione suddenly bust up laughing. "No offense, love, but I've been told that a lot of men don't inherit that gene until it happens. It's different for you, I would imagine. Apparently, we women feel that natural maternal bond, that instinct; not all of us, of course, but most do. I think it kicks in a lot later for you gentlemen. You're no different, Severus."

"Hermione, listen," Severus insisted with a low snarl, "you've been exceedingly patient with me learning how to open up, to express myself better, to allow me to work on my severe lack of communication, and you've given me room to do all of this. A child, she... She wouldn't understand how to deal with me. I'd hurt her unintentionally, and no child deserves to be that confused by her father's intentions. She'd probably think I didn't love her enough, that I didn't care, or that I somehow disliked her. Adults look at me and reach that general consensus with ease, and more often than not, they're right, but still... How would she possibly understand me?"

Hermione wanted to smile at how Severus was already treating the prospect of their child as a 'she' without awareness but refrained. Instead, she inclined her neck to kiss his lips affectionately, feeling him get pulled in, and willingly kissing her back.

"You _do_ express yourself very well, Severus," she assured him without pulling back. "You've made incredible strides, you know that? And I'll tell you something else that I can say with absolute certainty, love: you are so set against what happened to you in your youth—and rightfully so—that you would never allow that abuse to happen again. You wouldn't repeat that cycle, Severus; _I know you wouldn't._

"You can be brash with your tongue at times and you can be a lot of things when provoked to anger, but you would _never_ verbally abuse, beat, or neglect your own children. You aren't a monster, Severus. You care and love deeply; it just wouldn't be possible.

"If I thought there was the slightest indication that that could happen, I wouldn't be standing here with you now. I wouldn't keep this ring on my finger. I certainly wouldn't be making this kind of commitment to you if I thought you to be a truly cruel and heartless human being."

"But... But you don't know how poor or well of a father I might be, Hermione."

Hermione's smile, however, extended, leaving him nearly breathless. "Yes, I do, Severus, and I think, in time, you'll come to see that I'm right, just like I am about everything."

To this, Severus emphatically rolled his eyes, and Hermione snickered happily. "Are you really so dead set against having a family?" she asked, her tone turning serious once more at the prospect that loomed in front of them. "You looked into the mirror, Severus; you saw for yourself what you'd love to have most, deep down inside. You long for a family the same way that I do. Are you still unwilling to accept it?"

"It... It isn't just my reservations about becoming a father, Hermione. I still don't think I'd be at all good at it, but..."

"But what?"

Severus eyes momentarily peered down at the floor. His upper lip twitched as he softly blurted out, "My future remains uncertain, Hermione. We both know that. How selfish would it be of me to have children with you when there's no guarantee that I'll live long enough to help rear them? That I won't die whilst they are still young and leave you with the burdensome task of raising children all by yourself?"

Hermione's entire body froze up at those series of dismal questions. It was a while before she could gather her thoughts together coherently. It didn't help that Severus had a cruelly valid point: there were no certainties about how long he had. Hermione swallowed her reservations as best she could and hugged him tightly around the neck.

"Severus, we aren't starting a family tomorrow. We'll continue to discuss this, I know, but here's food for thought, and I've told you this before: there's no guarantees for any of us, including myself. I'm not in denial that your health isn't of great concern, but you're doing much better than your original prognosis—"

"Even so, Hermione—"

"_Even so_," she spoke over him, "if, and when, the time comes that we can start to seriously consider the matter, if you aren't in the best frame of health, then fine, we won't do it. We'll put it to rest and deal with accepting that children just aren't in the cards for us. But there's no reason to rule it out just yet, Severus, and I think you feel similarly, even if you can't say so just yet..."

Severus leaned his forehead against hers, sighing heavily. She could tell he was tired and worn down by so much uncertainty, confusion and conflict, wrestling with what he wanted versus what, in all probability, lay ahead for him. She hated to see the evidence of his emotional strain lurking behind the façade he insisted on still wearing.

"But there's still a greater risk involved, Hermione."

"That's true. I'm not denying it." She lightly pecked the bridge of his nose a few times, mapping her lips across his skin delicately. "Are you prepared to give up before even trying?"

"I..."

"Be honest with me, Severus."

Severus pursed his thin lips. "No," he finally consented, "I'm not."

"Very well. Then let's just take things day by day. There's still plenty of time."

"I hope you're right," he stated softly, causing her to jerk in his arms.

"I'm always right," she teased in an attempt to keep the atmosphere light; to her relief, he chuckled a little. "So..."

"So..."

"Four daughters."

"That only tells you what you'd _like_, Hermione. It's not a guarantee."

Hermione tilted her head, her curl of a smile causing him to blush endearingly. "I had no idea you've always desired a family of girls. Why is that?"

"Because boys are obnoxious and tiresome," Severus answered a little too hastily. "I have more patience, I think, for girls than boys. They mature faster, they're not as rowdy or rambunctious, and they tend to listen better." He paused, scrutinizing her differently. "Although you were an exception with all said traits."

Hermione smacked his chest and wrapped him in a hug, enjoying his possessive return embrace as he pressed her into his chest. "You're an arse, Severus Snape."

"Mmm. And you actually want me to rear children."

"Shut up."

"You don't have a comeback, I see."

"I refuse to be brought into another rift with you about parenthood." Hermione shot him an all-knowing grin. "You'd make a very loving father. End of story. Move on." Severus merely grunted and held onto her for another minute or two before Hermione drew back. "C'mon, love, let's go to bed. I'm tired, and I know you are, too."

* * *

**A/N #2: I originally considered ending the story with the Mirror of Erised revelation, but we still have a wedding, honeymoon and potential little Snapes on the horizon, so a few more chapters yet before we reach the finish line...**

**Thoughts are welcomed!**


	66. Mine

**A/N: Fluffity fluff fluff. Ye be warned. If you've read _Unquestionable Love_, some of this may seem familiar...**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 66: Mine**

Hermione fiddled with her veil for the umpteenth time. The nerves were finally starting to kick in, but more at the prospect of falling flat on her face as she walked down the aisle than the act of getting married itself. She couldn't quite believe it was here. It seemed like only yesterday her mother, Ginny, and everyone else was nagging her to get a move on with her wedding plans, and now the day had arrived, as if out of nowhere.

Hermione was excited, to be sure, but slightly worried, and not for herself but for how her husband-to-be might be coping. They had no groom or maid-of-honor, and, unlike herself, Severus was off by himself getting ready. At least she had her mother, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley present throughout the morning to offer emotional support.

Hermione would gladly have asked Draco or Harry, perhaps, or someone else to go check on the poor man and find out how he was holding up—or if he had somehow managed to unleash his breakfast all over his dress robes by now—but she knew Severus would despise any sort of support. He probably _wanted_ to be alone with his thoughts, to muster some encouragement on his own and prepare for the ceremony ahead.

"Oh, Hermione, let it alone!" her mother scolded about the veil, coming up behind her and laying it rightly so that it fell just so.

Hermione turned around, smiling. "I think you're more nervous than I am, Mum."

It was true. Her mother was a shade paler and extremely restless, but Hermione knew it was partly due to the prospect of what this day meant for her and her father. Their only daughter was getting married, and not to a man either of them entirely approved of. Elizabeth was attempting to be on her best behavior. George, on the other hand, had grown detached, making it clear that he still didn't approve of this marriage at all, even after a year and a half engagement.

_Hermione, don't let him put a damper on this. This day belongs to you and Severus_, she reminded herself, something Severus had been reinforcing to her all week long. _Enjoy every second of it._

"You ready, love?"

Elizabeth broke through her daughter's private musings. Ginny had entered the abandoned classroom on the first floor where Hermione had been getting ready, not far from the Great Hall, the spot where all the guests were gathering.

"Everyone's here," Ginny informed her with a smile of anticipation.

"Is Severus?"

Suddenly, Ginny frowned, her eyes flashing nervously. "Of course he is!"

"Thank Merlin, or a Killing Curse would be in order," Hermione giggled.

The bride followed her mother out into the hallway while Ginny held up her long, beaded train. A soft buzzing was echoing down from the Great Hall, where a host of levitating candles decked the bewitched night sky, perceivable through the glass windows Hermione could look in upon.

Dr. Granger was standing just outside the towering oak doors, his hands shoved deep into his pockets with a scowl that only lessened once he caught sight of his only daughter in her off-white, satin wedding gown. His mouth clamped shut and he forced a smile as he brought her into an affection embrace.

"I'm glad you stuck around," Hermione tried to tease him, not wanting to tear up and smudge her makeup.

"Of course I stuck around, Hermione."

"Yes, well, please behave, Dad." She leaned back and allowed him to take her arm. "I know you don't like him, but I _do_."

George offered no unfriendly retort. Ginny quietly spread out Hermione's train and entered the Great Hall with Elizabeth, leaving father and daughter alone.

Music soon filled the Great Hall, and the atmosphere of bustling voices died down in anticipation of Hermione's entrance. It wasn't to be a large gathering. Hermione had seen to keeping things small and intimate; she was just as disinterested as Severus in a grand wedding ceremony with too many people.

"You are happy?" her father blurted out just before they were about to step inside, causing Hermione to jerk where she stood.

"Yes, of course I am, Dad," she returned, surprised.

Unnerved by his apprehensive question, George drew closer and pecked her cheek, then looked straight ahead, as if somehow resolved, despite his lingering feelings of disapproval. "Very well, sweetheart."

Hermione stared at her father for a brief moment, completely lost for words. But then, she nudged his side and gave him a satisfied grin, marking the uneasiness with acceptance. One day, she hoped, her father would feel differently...

"Thanks, Dad," she whispered, but there wasn't time for him to reply, or even object. The music signaled their cue to move, and George Granger stepped forward determinedly, escorting his daughter into the Great Hall where she had grown up, and where she and Severus had first crossed paths so many years ago.

The vast array of candles throughout the Great Hall—the only source of light—made the scene both dramatic and tranquil, bringing out the brilliance of the yellow stone and stained glass windows. Hermione spotted Harry, Neville and Luna, Draco and Astoria, several of her professors, and an array of gingers scattered throughout the room, including Ron and Lavender, who she commended silently for sucking it up enough to attend at all. Her old friend even gave her a small smile as she passed, though Hermione barely caught it. She was too focused on not stumbling in her wedding dress, and there was also the only person her mind was intensely focused on finding amongst the crowd: Severus. And, with relief and reassurance, she found him.

Severus stood at the end of the aisle, wearing signature black dress robes that resembled his usual buttoned-down, tailor-made ensemble, only more upscale and new for the occasion. His hands were clamped behind his back, his stance fixed and unyielding. Anyone else who happened to be looking his way to catch a glimpse of the groom's reaction might think he had none, but Hermione knew better...

Her eyes captured the glimmer of heightened emotion behind the raven eyes, one of deep appreciation at the woman progressing towards him to become him wife, and awe at the elegant wedding dress she wore, particularly the dramatic V-neck cut in the front that Hermione hoped might catch the wizard by surprise. And it seemed to have done the trick; she couldn't help but shoot him a seductive smile of triumph, for him alone.

Severus's understated nerves only seeped to the surface once she reached his side, an awkward exchange of having his future wife handed to him with a flash of resentment by Dr. Granger. Severus took Hermione's hand in his, and it was only then that some of his anxiety unwound, with her touch. She squeezed his hand affectionately, wanting to reassure him that saying their vows in front of this small gathering of friends and family wasn't the worst possible thing they could withstand.

Dr. Granger nodded solemnly and returned to sit with his wife in the front row, but Hermione didn't even hear his departure; she was entirely focused on Severus, and he, on her. There were no other thoughts or worries in mind now, save for getting through this ceremony without a hitch. Severus, not one for such public displays, participating in the affair was, indeed, a milestone in itself that Hermione was fully prepared to acknowledge once it was all over. For the moment, only she could breach some of those silent nerves, and she couldn't help but be proud of her wizard for the great strides he was making in just a matter of moments.

The ceremony was quick, with the couple reciting their formal vows aloud—short and to the point, but profound and with a bit of a personal touch, nonetheless. Hermione could see Severus relaxing more and more as the ceremony went on, though his steady, deep voice wavered the few times he was prompted to speak publicly; but he made the point of never reverting his attention from the beautiful bride before him.

And, to him, she was visually stunning. The plain, gawky brainiac from years ago was virtually unrecognizable now; still smart, of course, but she was womanly, curvaceous, her striking gown a series of shimmering beads, intricate lace and some flirtatious, exposed skin.

"You're beautiful," he had made the point of whispering to her unexpectedly at one point, leaning his arm into hers, and Hermione reacted with a blushed, appreciative smile and pressing of his hand. He had just placed her wedding band on her finger, and she on his, but it was an intimate moment Hermione knew she would never forget.

After the bonding of their wands, the Ministry official overseeing their wedding nuptials declared, "You may kiss your bride."

Severus's flash of hesitation came only when he briefly looked upon their guests, but he returned his steady gaze to his new wife, decked all in white, waiting on him to seal their nuptials with quiet patience and a warm, encouraging smile. Severus stepped closer, latched his arms onto hers, and bent his neck to bring his lips to hers, mindful and slow and wanting to make sure the moment was everything his witch wished for. With relief, Hermione pushed back with more earnestness, forgetting the cheers and applause that followed, and swung her arms around his neck, wanting nothing more than to deepen the kiss—the kiss that officially brought them together as husband and wife. At last.

"We made it," she giggled once their lips parted, their faces still huddled close together. "_You_ made it through unscathed."

"Barely," he growled with a subtle smirk, causing her to laugh louder. "I told you we should have eloped."

When her laughter subsided, she regarded him seriously, lovingly. "_Thank you._ For doing this."

"What makes you think I didn't want to?"

"Well, I know it wasn't easy..."

"The night isn't over yet." Severus presented her with his arm, which she happily took. "I still have a lot more to endure." He drew his mouth to her ear and purred, "But for you, it's well worth it."

That brought a tender smile to Hermione's face. He kissed her hand appreciatively as they strolled out of the Great Hall arm in arm to have a few moving photographs taken whilst the Great Hall was magically redecorated for the reception to follow.

The rest of the night went remarkably well, or so the newly married couple thought. It was a bit too much socially for Severus, but he put his best foot forward, offering minor conversation and words to those who wished him well. The only clear uneasiness that lingered was between Hermione's new husband and her father, which both she and Elizabeth made a point of diffusing wherever possible. For the most part, however, Hermione was thoroughly enjoying this memorable evening with family and friends: laughing, conversing, dancing, and being merry with those she loved.

Severus had danced their first waltz together as a married couple with surprising flair and grace. She was nearly skeptical of how poised and in control he acted, when she knew he had to be well outside of his comfort zone. She had made a point in the planning process to get Severus's input; he, of course, had been insistent upon everything she suggested, and was partaking in the events without scruple, but that didn't mean Hermione wasn't well attuned to his acts of pretense.

"You holding up all right?" she asked before their dance—Billie Holiday's rendering of "The Very Thought of You" appropriately crooning in the background—was through.

Severus brought his forehead to hers. "Well enough."

"That's not very encouraging."

Severus didn't answer and, instead, discreetly pecked her brow. "I'm the envy of every man tonight. I'm quite all right with it."

Hermione was glad her blush was masked by burrowing her face momentarily in Severus's hair. She didn't say anything else. There was no need.

It wasn't until much later, once everyone was relaxed, well fed, and on their fourth or fifth glass of Champagne that Hermione ducked away from the party in search of her husband, who had bowed out without notice. She spotted Harry on the dance floor twirling Ginny around, Aberforth and McGonagall sharing a loud cackle nearby and dancing hand in hand, and even Ron sharing a laugh with George and Percy in the corner.

Ron's approach earlier had been awkward and strained, but he was cordial enough, she had to give him that, and even shook Severus's hand and congratulated them both. Lavender had also acted a bit standoffish, but Hermione couldn't will herself to be upset. This had turned into one of the happiest nights of her life, and she certainly wasn't going to let two individuals spoil the evening. The only situation that miffed her a little was her father's cold behavior, which hadn't lessened, even with more alcohol consumption and a gay atmosphere.

Hermione sighed it all away, however, and went in pursuit of her husband. That term brought a warmhearted smile to her countenance as she climbed the various moving staircases, knowing full well where she would probably find him.

Understanding how much of a stressor all the socializing and being the center of everyone's undivided attention must be for him, Hermione wasn't surprised that he had stepped out for a breather. She could only hope he would be in the spot where she suspected him of retreating to, as she was in no mood to go wandering about the castle tonight; not in her beautiful wedding dress, which she heaved the train of up the stairs with some difficulty. She was also a little tipsy, too, not having had much time to eat throughout the day.

Hermione soon found the rooftop she and Severus had once secretly frequented—_And made out on several occasions._ She hadn't been back to this part of the castle since then, and seeing it for the first time in years was euphoric and strange and awe-inspiring all at once. The very last time she had been here was to, the day after Dumbledore's death, declare that she would never trust Severus Snape again.

_Merlin, how things change..._

Hermione quietly crept through the door and found the wizard in question standing near the ledge and looking out upon the night sky, the spring—near summer—breeze whiffing his hair lightly to one side. He casually turned around, not at all disgruntled by the disturbance, knowing there was only one individual who would be able to find his hiding spot.

"Hi," he whispered, giving her a soft smile that made her heart flutter.

"Hey, you."

Severus extended his arm out, allowing Hermione to fully embrace him, and wrapped his dress coat around her petite frame with ease. For a few minutes of uninterrupted silence, the couple stood together, listening to the music and bustle that filtered up from the Great Hall.

"My apologies," he offered after a short while, "I just needed to get away for a moment."

"It's fine, love. I figured as much. You all right?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Then Hermione heard another slow song begin to play. She peered up at a serene-looking Severus with an idea in mind that she hoped wouldn't make him turn sour on her.

"Dance with me?"

Severus blinked and looked down at her, a little taken aback. "What?"

"Why not?" she offered up with an encouraging smile. "It's just us." She advanced onto her tip toes to give him a long, tender kiss on the lips. "_You and me..._"

"If you insist," he muttered, though Hermione could read his sincerity easily enough, and she giggled as he drew her back from the ledge to weave a hand around her waist and the other against his chest. "_Mrs. Snape_," he added, giving her a thoughtful expression.

Hermione's grin broadened admiringly. "I love that."

"And you're the only witch crazy enough who would."

"Bollocks."

Hermione rested her head beneath his chin, lapsing back into a pleasant silence they both enjoyed, lost in their inner contemplations. After a few minutes, however, as the song drew to a close, Hermione decided to break the stillness with a question.

"Severus?" When she received no response, she spoke louder. "Severus?"

His dark eyes flickered and brightened. "Hmm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

Severus peered down at the deep, caramel irises now staring up at him again with interest. He growled low, but his response was more contended than it had probably ever sounded to anyone.

"Why do you always have to know everything?"

Hermione reacted with soft giggles and nestled her nose against his. "Well, it_ is_ our wedding night. Don't I deserve to know what you're thinking? Indulge me."

Hermione could hardly believe that she had managed to get Severus to actually dance twice this evening, an immeasurable feat that no one would suspect possible, especially Harry; once he knew, that is. The second slow dance that she and Severus now shared was completely private and for no one else's viewing pleasure but their own.

"I was admiring you," Severus murmured to her, gazing with unmistakable longing, a deep insatiable hunger looming in his black eyes that had been present all evening. "That's all."

It was only natural that Severus would admire such a bride as the young woman in his arms tonight. Hermione had never looked more ravishing, something Severus had concluded hours ago. Her satin, off-white gown clung to her hourglass curves. The lacing and intricate beading that covered most of her arms and chest—although her flawless skin still peeked through—made her attractive figure shimmer against the stars that now lined the night sky.

But it was the dramatic V-neck in the front and back that plunged down to her bosom and the end of her spine that did Severus in. That alluring, yet tasteful, image of Hermione had been driving him mad. She was enrapturing, seductive, gorgeous... And she belonged to him.

_Mine..._ he mused to himself, astounded.

Hermione looked up at him after a long silence. She wasn't convinced that she could be the sole thought on his mind and, thus, shot Severus a most wry smile.

"What else were you thinking about?"

Severus let out a heavy sigh, showing that rare display of complete and utter happiness no one was privy to but her. "Nothing, my dear. I just feel extremely fortunate."

"Oh, Severus, you aren't fortunate," Hermione whispered, observing the outlines of his striking features with a warmth bestowed only for him.

_Mine..._ she reflected with delight before continuing.

"You're _deserving_ of this. Not lucky."

"You think so?" His tone was regrettably sarcastic to Hermione's ears, and she didn't appreciate it.

"I _know_ so."

"Hermione—"

"Don't."

She surprised him with an extended kiss on his cheek. She then pulled away and resumed their dance, much to her new husband's reluctance, who didn't wish to continue, even if they were alone.

"You're loved and that's just something you'll have to contend with the rest of your life, Severus Snape."

Despite not wanting to ruin the romantic moment, Severus couldn't help but hiss. "But I—"

"No."

"I thought you wanted to know my thoughts?" he snarled irritably.

Hermione tittered again and re-situated her head upon his chest. "Not if you're going to be a sourpuss."

"Oh, for the love of— Don't you dare start calling me that."

"Then don't force me to," she added with more laughter.

Another pause arose before Severus grumbled and cleared his throat, causing Hermione's head to stir against his chest. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I know who you are, Severus. I know your worth in this world, even if you still don't. I guess I'll just have to keep helping you see what I see."

"Oh, really?" he answered in his trademark snarky tone. "My qualities leave much to be desired. You may be clever, but you're also quite delusional."

"And you're incapable of seeing past your own transgressions!" she sighed in return.

Severus refrained from asking the one question pounding his brain and for which he received little rest: Why, in fact, _had_ Hermione ever agreed to marry him? He still couldn't quite fathom that she had ever agreed to become his, but then, he didn't really want to know her answers either. He feared that perhaps somehow, on some level, she might realize in the process of answering that she had married the wrong man, that she had chosen him under misguided impressions, or that whatever reasons she had were simply not enough.

"Aren't you happy?"

Severus was thrown so off his guard by her question that he abruptly stopped moving. His brow furrowed, his obsidian eyes glistening despite the darkness that nature had finally brought upon their happy day.

"Yes, of course I am."

He took the hand already in his possession and placed a loving kiss upon it. Hermione leaned in, overtaken by the overwhelming feel of his soft lips pecking her skin. She watched his eyelashes flutter as he delighted in the taste of her against his mouth.

"I must say, I... I'm relieved," she managed through a broken whisper, causing him to inch his lips away, unaware that she didn't want the contact to end.

"Why?" A dawning realization came to him swiftly, and a frown formed on his mouth. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I don't mean to ruin things or make this day unhappy for you in any way."

Hermione's infectious smile returned and she moved a few hairs out of Severus's face; a simple gesture she enjoyed. She remembered how curious she had once been to touch that hair. When her wish was finally granted, the thickness and feel of it surprised her. That seemed like ages ago now, but her intense affection for Severus had never dwindled, as so many thought it might.

"You've been wonderful today," she reassured him quietly. "I - I just know how uncomfortable this all is for you..."

"Hermione—"

"I know I've made you awfully uneasy with all this wedding nonsense. I can tell."

"No, Hermione. It's fine, really."

"I - I hope it hasn't been too unbearable for you."

"Of course it hasn't."

She scrutinized him carefully. "You're just saying that, Severus."

"No, _truly_." It was Severus's turn to chuckle, and it brought her an immense sense of relief to hear. "For you, to be with you... _It's worthwhile._ I don't mind, Hermione."

Hermione was grateful, but she still eyed her wizard with skepticism. "You _really_ don't mind? Even if my parents have been horrid to you today?"

Severus cast her a wicked smirk and leaned his forehead against hers. "They haven't been so bad."

"Oh, rubbish, yes, they have! Mum's at least been cordial, but Dad's been an arse. I could kill him!"

"Hermione, they just want the best for you. You're their only daughter and I... Well, I would never be their first choice. I_ shouldn't_ be."

"Don't say that, Severus!" she spat, growing cross very quickly. "And anyway, it doesn't matter! We've been together long enough now for them to get over it!"

"Hermione, don't get yourself upset. This is_ our_ day. Don't let their behavior spoil everything for you."

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, staring off into the distance with an angry, freshly hurt disposition. She knew he was right; she was letting her parents' un-acceptance of the man she loved get the better of her, and on her own turf and on a day that belonged to them.

Severus quickly gathered her hands in his own. The silver ring on her finger that sealed their marriage glinted in the shadows, momentarily distracting his attention. Severus took a moment to admire the band around Hermione's finger, engraved with an intertwined serpent and lion, as well as lyrics to their favorite song. _Their song._

"I think they'll get over it in time," he offered with an artful sneer. "Who knows, they might even warm up to me. What do you think the odds are?"

"Stop it, Severus," she replied with a pout. "That isn't funny."

"It isn't? Not even a little?"

"You're my husband now. I want them to _respect_ you, Severus. They need to be more understanding to the choices I've made."

"That's not for you to decide." Sensing Hermione's frustration growing worse, he added, "They'll probably come around, Hermione."

Hermione couldn't help but ask, "And if they don't?"

Severus shrugged but continued to give her a defiant, rather victorious smirk. It almost made Hermione smile. _Almost._

"As long as you're happy, my dear, then _I_ possess the upper hand."

Despite how upset she was, Hermione reacted readily and jabbed Severus in the chest, laughing at last. It was a small alleviation to Severus's ears. He watched her get stuck on his assortment of buttons, stroking them as she so often did.

_All mine..._ He looked more handsome today than she ever imagined, but she refrained from saying so too often. It only mortified him and produced an unwanted remark of skepticism. _The buttons, on the other hand..._ Hermione stared at them with such intensity that it took every ounce of her composure _not_ to be done with their public restraints and rip them right off.

Severus knew where her focus was drifting and stifled some more laughter. Her strange fascinations amused him more and more with each step in their relationship, and tonight was no exception.

"Are_ you_ happy?" he asked, turning the tables on her question.

Hermione's pretty eyes blinked and refocused on him, soaking in the depths of his eyes. She didn't return his answer at first, instead placing a hand over his cheek, caressing it thoughtfully. She loved his reaction, which was always the same. His eyelashes fluttered and closed.

"I've never been happier," she answered softly.

A pair of heated lips touched Severus's mouth. He kept his eyes closed but responded, pushing against those lips—so smooth, yet delicate—that needed to be handled with care. Her kisses were not nearly as shy or inexperienced as they once were. The feel of her mouth and tongue had changed with time. They were confident now, a feat which came with much practice and persistence, neither of which Severus Snape had ever encouraged. Not at first, anyway, but he was immensely grateful now that Hermione Granger had pursued him all those years ago.

_So grateful..._

When their lips parted, their faces remained close together, their breathing quickened, yearning for more. Hermione wasn't nervous. She was more excited than anything else. She couldn't wait for them to be alone together at last on their first night as husband and wife. It had been special that first time in the woods—_Merlin, yes_—but this time would be different. They had committed themselves to one another in an official and very public way. This night would be the first of the rest of their lives together as one, and, so, it felt more special than any other time before.

_Us. Just us..._

Hermione let her forehead rest against Severus's chin. He gathered her into his arms again and she, in turn, relaxed her hands on his buttons, continuing to trace their outlines.

"I love you," he whispered, so quietly it whisked away with the night air.

Grinning broadly, Hermione reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, twirling a piece around her index finger. Her eyes locked with his, filled with the deepest fondness and devotion. It was a moment—a sweet, quiet moment—both of them would always remember.

"I love you more..."

With some reluctance, and after several more minutes of snogging each other with the intimacy of their private balcony as a convenient backdrop, Hermione dragged them both back to their marital celebration, where virtually everyone was now starting to cut loose. Even her parents were jiving merrily on the dance floor.

"I refuse to join that utter ruckus and humiliation," Severus whispered defiantly before Hermione could even make the suggestion; instead, she snickered gleefully.

Just as they reentered the Great Hall, Harry and Ginny came bustling over, and Severus properly excused himself to get them some drinks. Both were perspiring and flushed from so much dancing, though quite happy; it livened Hermione's spirits to see her friends having such a good time.

"All right, Hermione," Ginny squealed, "show us the engraving."

Hermione rolled her eyes and removed her wedding band, handing it over to Ginny for a closer inspection. Harry took it in hand as well and squinted to read the inner cursive.

"'I'm happy as a queen.' Is that... Oh! That old song you like. Severus likes it, too?"

"Nicely put, Harry," Hermione poked his arm. "Yes, he introduced me to the song, actually."

"I like it!" Ginny chimed in; Hermione wasn't sure if her smile was still on account of the wedding bliss or buzz from the amount of alcohol the young witch had consumed. "Its very befitting of both of you. Very lovely." She turned to Harry with a critical eye. "We should have something nice like that; something _meaningful_, if you catch my drift?"

"Blimey, Ginny!" Harry chuckled, and they all laughed unanimously.

"Who's idea?" he asked after handing the ring back.

Hermione gave him a sheepish sort of smile, though it wasn't for herself that she was turning scarlet. "Severus... Oh, don't look so shocked, would you?"

"Erm, sorry," Harry stammered, his and Ginny's faces going neutral again, or as unobjectionable as could be, given how soused they were.

"Snape just doesn't strike us as the romantic type. We figured that was mostly you."

"_Me?_" Hermione's animated reaction was enough to get them all roaring with laughter again. "Well, thanks, but I do like a man with a little passion. I'm not entirely emotionless and disinterested, you know."

"Sorry," Ginny giggled, her freckles turning a shade redder. "It's just... Hard to picture is all."

"Well, perhaps, in time, it won't be so hard to fathom," Hermione considered, her eyes growing reflective amidst the many levitating candles. "I hope you'll both get to know him as I have. I hope everyone will..."

"Perhaps you're right!" Harry returned her thoughtfulness with a goofy smile. Then he scrambled back onto the dance floor, pulling Ginny with him, leaving their newly wedded friend to her own devices.

Just then, Severus's dark silhouette reemerged, strolling towards her with two drinks in hand. "Thank you," she replied, as he handed one off to her.

"Are you all right?"

Hermione, warmed and contented, particularly after he looped an arm around her shoulder, responded quietly, "Extremely."

"Then can we sit down? I haven't had a single bite of our ruddy cake all evening."

Hermione giggled and walked with him quietly towards their table. "Well, _you're_ the one who insisted you weren't hungry at the time, Mister."

"Actually, I _am_ hungry," he hissed, pulling her closer. "I've just been hoping to get my needs fed another way."

Hermione traced the desire in his eyes towards her plunging neckline and, blushing profusely, swatted his chest and chastised him with a stern look that seemed to only provoke him further. He leaned closer, their backs turned away from their guests, for a private and well-deserved kiss.

"Bastard," she reprimanded lightly, to which he smirked with triumph.

"_You're_ the one who decided to wear this enticing little number."

"You like it then?" She hadn't asked him all evening what he thought of her elegant dress; but it didn't matter, she already knew, and was thrilled by the reactions it had been garnering from her wizard all night.

"Are you kidding?" He kissed her again, catching her off guard in the midst of laughing, keeping his mouth brushing hers as he whispered sultrily, "You're exquisite..."

"I - I am?" Hermione found herself flushing even redder than before, her cheeks nearly burning hot to the touch.

"Yes, _of course._" He captured her lips one last time before pulling back to purr into her ear, "That doesn't mean I wouldn't be content to rip it right off you."

Hermione suddenly felt his warm, calloused fingers caressing the bottom of her neckline. She gasped, her eyes nearly drawing out of their sockets, and quickly moved Severus's prying hand away, thankful their backs were turned from anyone who might catch a glimpse of his daring move otherwise.

"Scoundrel!" she hissed, fighting back her giggles. "Keep your hands to yourself, Mister!"

"Only for a few more hours, and then..."

"Horny git."

"You started it."

Hermione beamed up at him and guided a hand behind his back. She kissed the bridge of his nose. "You're right, I did," she affirmed, referring back to a time well before their wedding night. "And I'm very glad I started it. Aren't you?"

Gathering what she was getting at, Severus's black eyes flickered amidst the candlelight, and only for her. "Indeed," he whispered in return, pinning her to his chest. "And I'm _exceedingly_ glad you did."


	67. A Honeymoon To Remember

**A/N: A few shout outs - Firstly, I hope those of you who celebrate Christmas had a very merry one! Secondly, to Geekydork: the closest inspiration I had for Hermione's dress would be some photos I posted on The Snapes Tumblr blog. FFN hates links, but if you click on the blog through my Profile and add on the following attachment to the URL, you can see the wedding gown images: _post [slash] 18162599426 [slash] pictured-hermiones-wedding-gown-photographs _Hope you like them! ****Thirdly, but certainly not least, a very Happy Birthday to the fabulous onecelestialbeing!**  


******Only a few chapters remain. Onward.  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 67: A Honeymoon To Remember**

"Would you just allow me to indulge you?"

"Severus, it's far too expensive—"

"It is _not!_ We aren't going to end up on the sidewalk tomorrow, Hermione."

"Severus—"

"_We'll take it_," he growled almost viciously to the startled Muggle shop assistant, who scurried away with a timid-looking smile to wrap up the dress Severus was insistent about purchasing.

"Oh, for goodness' sake." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Severus, this really _is_ too much."

Severus was already scrounging for his wallet hidden away in his coat pocket. "Stop being frugal," he demanded, not so much as looking at her as he laid the Muggle money firmly on the counter.

"I'm _not_ being frugal! You've spent far too much on me on this trip as it is—"

"This isn't a trip. It's our honeymoon, and that's what I'm _supposed_ to do."

"Who says?"

"Quit nagging!" he snarled, showing his teeth.

Hermione stifled her amusement but offered the young woman eying Severus nervously a silent, apologetic look. She knew it wasn't only on account of her wizard's surly attitude that the woman was so fidgety. Dressed in his usual frock coat—minus the billowing cloak because of the heat—Severus had received more than a few intimidated stares from passersby on their honeymoon excursion. Hermione found it all humorous enough, partly because Severus didn't even appear to have noticed any of the scares he garnered. But it wasn't all alarm and shock Severus received either. More than a few females did a double-take, and that brought quite a satisfied smile to Hermione's face, and only annoyed her aggravated husband, who couldn't comprehend what she was so titillated about.

Not _this_ woman evidently. She was scared stiff and fumbled for Severus's change as quickly as possible, barely able to get a word out.

Hermione and Severus hurried out of the store and back to their hotel to change for the evening, but not before taking in one or two more shopping excursions. Severus was determined to get her an entire outfit for their evening plans, and his insistence was throwing Hermione for a loop.

_He doesn't even enjoy shopping_, she considered, humored by it all. _What on earth has gotten into him?_

Hermione had been thoroughly enjoying the last of their honeymoon in Vienna. On a whim, the couple had decided to challenge themselves; or, at least, Hermione wanted to put forth the effort of _not_ planning every minuscule detail of their honeymoon well in advance, in exchange for hopping around Europe for two weeks of unorganized, unplanned, by-their-coattails sightseeing.

Severus had taken to such an uncharacteristic feat quite well, for _him_; Hermione even more so. She was surprising herself each day, amazed at how relatively calm and unstressed she had been on this trip. They had lucked out finding upscale hotels within their price range, and welcomed taking in the various cities they had decided to visit on a whim, never knowing how long they would stay or where they would venture to next. They had already visited Paris, Brussels, Berlin, Prague, and were ending their trip in Vienna.

Tonight was their last night before returning home to England. Despite the hard-hitting reality that their honeymoon would soon be over, Hermione was looking forward to returning to a place they could finally call their own. Construction on their house in Bibury was complete. They had managed to move in their furnishings and personal belongings before the wedding but hadn't moved in yet themselves. They would officially be returning to start a new chapter in their life come the end of this vacation, something both were very much looking forward to.

Saying goodbye to Spinner's End in the days leading up to their wedding had gone remarkably easy on Severus, or so Hermione gathered. He was quiet, yes, and slightly withdrawn the day they moved out and took up temporary residence in a wizarding hotel in Scotland in preparation for their wedding. Hermione suspected that having such distractions were an added bonus, giving Severus something positive to focus on, on account of finally walking away from not only the home he had lived in all his life but a place that was so very connected to his turbulent past.

"How are you doing?" Hermione had made the point of asking more than once on their honeymoon, to which Severus assured he was "fine." Hermione didn't push, but then, oddly enough, she didn't feel the necessity.

_Such progress._

As they entered their hotel room, cozy and intimate with gold, pale green, and cream trimmings, they were met with drawn curtains and darkness. After a long day of sightseeing and relentless shopping—not of Hermione's choosing—the solitude was a welcoming change of pace. Severus meandered over to the bed, plopping down on the expensive duvet with his shoulders hunched over. Suddenly, he appeared years older, rubbing at his weary eyes and fighting to look at her.

Hermione quickly walked over and crouched down, whisking a few straggly hairs out of his face. "You tired?" she asked, concern marring her brow.

"A little," he confessed, attempting a small smile for her.

_Not so much progress..._

Hermione frowned, unable to stop herself. She took a seat next to him, leaning in close to his face. He inadvertently drew nearer to her as well, reaching out to massage a hand over top of her knee. His eyelids fluttered shut, and he heaved a heavy, worn out sigh.

"I'm sorry."

"What on earth for?"

"For... You know."

Dismayed, Hermione cradled her arm around his back and brought him into her fold. Their honeymoon had been mostly uninterrupted by any of Severus's lingering health problems, but it was finally starting to show signs of its wear and fatigue. Hermione's warm lips brushed his cheek, which felt alarmingly cold to the touch.

"Oh, Severus, stop. It's quite all right. We've been on the go an awful lot. We should've paced ourselves better."

"No, it's fine."

"We could stay in tonight?" Hermione risked asking, suspecting what Severus's response would be.

"No," he asserted, confirming her guesses. "It's our last night. We have dinner reservations."

"That can easily be canceled, love—"

"And tickets to the opera."

Hermione had never been and was admittedly looking forward to their last fun-filled evening in Vienna, one that Severus had taken the liberty of organizing for them. But surveying him now, any disappointment Hermione carried about staying in was overrun by Severus's false insistence that he was perfectly fine when he wasn't at all.

"We can forgo that, too," she whispered and placed a hand on his thigh.

"Those tickets were expensive!"

Hermione snickered at his fluctuation in temper. "So? Severus, it isn't important. You've pushed yourself too much today. Let's take a time out."

"But—"

"We can stay in. We aren't obligated to go anywhere."

"On our last night?" he snarled, put out by the idea.

"Sure, why not?"

"I— No, Hermione." The hairs Hermione had cupped behind Severus's ear fell forward again into his dark eyes, now half open. "I've been looking forward to treating you to this... I bought you that dress specifically for the occasion."

"Severus, we can do it some other time." She paused, her heart falling. "I should've known all this travel would catch up with you. I get too easily distracted when you're doing well. I'm so sorry."

"Don't start," he interjected, slightly agitated. "You've done nothing."

"Well, we have a couple hours yet. How about we wait it out and see how you feel?"

"But..."

"Lie down and I'll hop in the shower."

"Yes, all right."

Hermione was surprised at how quickly he conceded to her suggestion; but then, the weight of their reality was also a harsh reminder to Hermione that Severus still wasn't well. No cure had been found, and yet, despite the continuous bad news, Severus had been doing relatively well, even with his tonics still being adjusted on a near constant basis. He still had his flare ups, and there were days when he was still quite ill, but their lives had remained remarkably normal and carefree, for the most part.

Hermione quickly attempted to shake the reality of Severus's illness from her mind. He lay down on top of the bed, fully clothed, and with another burdensome sigh, he sunk into the pillow that cradled his head and shut his eyes. Silently, without issue, Hermione removed Severus's boots and reached out to unravel his cravat.

"You don't have to do this," he mumbled, sounding, to her, terribly sleep-deprived.

"Oh, hush."

Hermione undid his cravat—unassisted—and unfastened the front of his coat as he started to doze off. Once she had gotten him stripped down to his trousers, she tugged on them ever so slightly.

"C'mon, you," she giggled, pressing her face up against his. "Off."

Severus shot her a faint smile, his eyelids fighting to open. "See something you like?"

"Such a horny git."

"I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

Smiling, Hermione rolled her eyes complacently. "Take your trousers off and get underneath the covers, you fiend."

"And what will I get in return?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" he hissed, his eyes closing again. "That seems unmerited."

"And quit talking, while you're at it."

"Bossy witch."

Hermione smirked, triumphant, and helped situate Severus comfortably, pulling the heavy covers up to his neck, though she paused momentarily to study the violent slashes across his Adam's apple. Her smile fell, her mind grateful Severus was on the verge of sleep and unaware of her growing dismay.

Severus barely moved as the covers were gently laid over him, his face still as Hermione ran her fingers through his tresses, brushing them delicately away from his pale face. She was going to suggest he take his tonics before sleeping, but that flew to the back of her mind.

_Poor man._

Her eyesight caught a glimmer of his wedding band, his left hand resting slightly open atop his pillow. Hermione found herself staring down at it reflectively. It didn't feel exceptionally different now—being married, officially joined together through a band of matching silver rings—but Hermione admittedly felt slightly fuller than she already had. Perhaps because it was simply right for them, this union meant to be, a strong sentiment she had felt for over two and a half years. It was still a euphoric fulfillment, however, especially in small moments such as this: watching Severus—her husband—falling asleep in the privacy of her care.

Hermione reached down and lightly kissed Severus's forehead. "I love you more. Sleep well."

"I love you," he mumbled back, more like a moan, his head sinking further into his pillow.

If Hermione had been feeling contented before, she was also quite stricken and concerned by the drastic changes his condition could take, such as now. It wasn't something to be taken likely, but, just as they had many times in the past, Hermione focused on getting them through to tomorrow, when they would at least be back home—at their new place of residence—where they could settle in and Severus could take as much time as needed to recoup.

With her happiness faltering, Hermione backed away from the bed and quietly crept to the loo, placing a muffling charm on the room and soaking herself in the standing shower for well over an hour, allowing the water to lap at her skin and ease away her looming trepidations; or perhaps it was simply pounding them into submission, she didn't know.

Either way, it wasn't merely Severus, memories of their wedding day, or the thrill and excitement she had been experiencing on their honeymoon that consumed her thoughts. Hermione hadn't been able to get the children she had seen in the Mirror of Erised out of her thoughts. She and Severus had broached the subject a few times since that day, but the results were mixed.

Were those beautiful little faces the future? A figment of their imaginations that had always been buried below the surface? Or were they a future she wasn't destined to have?

The painful idea that they might represent the last brought Hermione increasing discomfort, even depression. She was thankful she had had the wedding, a honeymoon, and a new house to distract her the past several weeks, but they couldn't erase the severe ache that loomed in her heart.

_You have everything you could possibly want, Hermione_, she kept reminding herself._ Why should you want more? Isn't Severus enough?_

_Of course he is!_

_Then what's the problem?_

_I just... I can't let them go..._

_Who says you have to?_

_I know. But Severus..._

_He isn't opposed to having children anymore, even if he doesn't sound convinced. Just keep talking it over. If it's meant to happen, it will._

_And if it doesn't?_

Hermione wasn't fully aware that she had tears streaking down her face, even as her conscience fought with itself over the sensitive topic that weighed so heavily on her heart. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from breaking down altogether.

_Then you'll accept it. You're strong, and you know you can do it._

_I know I can, but..._

_Severus is sick. Why would you even consider the prospect of children? Do you want to raise them yourself?_

_That's not a guarantee!_

_Neither is it that he'll be around in years to come..._

"Enough!"

Sniffling, Hermione threw back the shower curtain and stumbled onto the cold, tiled floor, dripping from head to toe. She fiercely wiped at her eyes, at the same time striking her fears down as best she could. Quickly pulling her wet hair back and wrapping her petite frame in a towel, Hermione forced some composure and tiptoed back into the room, her ears met by the sound of Severus's rather loud snoring. She approached the bed to study his long, black strands, shielding most of his eyes and hooked nose, the rest of him buried snugly beneath the blankets, where he hadn't budged since she left.

Hermione crawled into bed on the opposite side, snuggling in behind him and trying to disrupt his sleep as little as possible. But Severus still awoke, startling them both when his body unexpectedly flinched and his disheveled head shot up. He hadn't reached for his wand, but his senses were heightened all the same.

"Easy, love," Hermione softly soothed, bringing him onto his side again. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to wake you."

Severus grunted and leaned his weight into her, re-relaxed with her arms swaddling him. "You smell wonderful," her murmured, his nostrils flaring at her vanilla scent.

Hermione found herself smiling, if only a fraction. "I had better. And thank you."

Severus rolled his head sideways, his nose colliding with hers, and kissed her with his eyes closed. "_Really_ wonderful," he added against her mouth, sending her into soft tittering.

"Still as horny a sod as ever. Would you go back to bed, please? You're exhausted."

"No..."

"Severus—"

"I'm not tired."

"Oh?" With his thin lips smiling and his long eyelashes tickling her skin, Hermione felt a sudden warmth press itself against her sex. She gasped, then hissed and snatched his hand away. "Oh, no you don't, you scoundrel!"

"Why not?"

"Because you're _tired_, Severus."

"Am not."

"Are to."

"Oh, c'mon, would you?" he groused, forcing his eyes open to suck and peck at her neck.

Hermione had an immediate reaction, her spine tingling and sending her into a shudder. She cursed and swatted at his chest, fighting her incessant laughter as he continued to pursue her, ignoring her repeated protests, even as she responded favorably to his warm, arousing kisses.

"Scoundrel. Quit it."

"You're turning down sex on our last night?" He kissed her determinedly, feeling Hermione's response each time her body pressed itself into his back.

"That's right," she hissed and pulled away, meeting his pallid complexion. "You should take your tonics and go back to sleep."

"Hermione—"

"Unless you want to have some really bad bouts of Apparation and sickness tomorrow, then you need to rest."

Severus settled into the crook of her neck. "Insufferable," he mumbled, hardly able to get the words out.

"Stop fighting it, love. Go back to sleep."

"Whatever happened to the opera?" Severus's eyes opened wider. "What time is it?"

"Six thirty. Why?"

Severus let out a faint snarl. "We'll be late for our dinner reservations."

Hermione smiled and angled her head to peck at his neck, then his exposed cheek. "Dinner's out of the question now. Just relax, love."

That wasn't to be the case, however. A disgruntled, defiant Severus threw back the covers and staggered to get out of bed.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Taking a shower," was all he sputtered back, gingerly rising from the bed, though he immediately had to reach out and grab hold of the wall to keep from collapsing to the floor.

Hermione shot up from the bed. "Severus, what—"

"I'm going to get ready. I suggest you do the same."

"Merlin, what's come over you?"

"_It's our last night_." Eying her over one shoulder, there was no disputing the sheer determination in those stark, narrowed eyes. "We're going out."

"You're impossible, Mister."

"Deal with it."

Gripping the wall, Severus eased himself into the loo rather gracefully despite his inability to walk without support and shut the door. _What the hell is going on?_ Hermione puzzled, glancing at the shopping bag leaning against an ottoman in the corner of the room. _Why's he so agitated?_

* * *

Hermione was quite glad that they hadn't missed out on the opportunity to visit the infamous Vienna Opera House, where they watched a rousing rendition of Mozart's "The Marriage of Figaro," though Severus had to lean over and explain certain scenes to Hermione throughout the performance, which also went on a lot later than she anticipated. Her intrigue was heightened by Severus's extensive knowledge of opera, something she wasn't conscious of until now. She had certainly been impressed with his explanation of the "The Marriage of Figaro," and the conversation carried itself into the streets as they strolled back to their hotel, arm in arm.

"It isn't just opera, Hermione," came his simplified explanation, as if it should have been obvious. "It's Mozart, a Muggle genius of a composer."

"Coming from _you_, that's saying something," she jabbed, shooting him a sidelong grin.

"It's no great secret."

"Yes, well, so they keep saying around here."

Severus gave her a curious regard. "You don't like him?"

"I do; I'm just not overly fond of classical music." She paused, surveying his subtle, yet enticing, scrutiny. "It puts me to sleep."

To that, Severus rolled his eyes and growled. "Cultivate yourself and you might learn a thing or two."

Hermione smacked his chest with her clutch, giggling softly. "Don't be a snob," she quipped, giving him another smirk.

Hermione hadn't expected to enjoy the opera as much as she had. For one, her parents had never instilled any sort of love or passion for music in her, though they had made the point of taking her to the West End a handful of times when she was younger to take in the musicals. Opera, however, wasn't regularly listened or attended to in the Granger household. The experience was fascinating, Severus's keen interest in the subject making it even more so.

"You really _are_ old school," she teased him more than once.

Severus arched an eyebrow. "Much older than you," he challenged through a dark sneer, "and I'll always have that to my advantage."

"Oh, rubbish! No, you won't."

Severus abruptly halted their walk beneath a street lamp, his obsidian, though tired, eyes catching a glimmer of her reflection beneath the harsh lighting. They scanned her tightly clad black dress, their depths smoldering at her enticing-looking figure in the number that stopped just above her knees. With a plunging neckline and sleeves that fell off her shoulders, leaving them bare, it was a more revealing dress than the newly married witch would have preferred, but seeing Severus's rousing response to it at the vintage clothing shop earlier that day made the Gryffindor in Hermione bolder. She still thought it far too expensive, but if Severus wanted to see her wear it, she wasn't about to disoblige and not indulge her husband.

_My husband_, she mused, staring at him with their arms outstretched. _Who would have thought..._

"Did you have a good time?" he whispered, hopeful-sounding.

"Yes, of course. It was wonderful!"

"Even after three and a half hours?"

Hermione snickered. "Well, maybe I was a _little_ antsy near the end."

"Indeed," he growled lowly. "You kept elbowing me in my side for the last hour."

"Did I?" Hermione drew closer and brushed herself up against him, grabbing his buttons forcefully. "My apologies, _Professor._"

"Care to make it up to me?" he requested rather than asked, giving her a ruthless, goading sort of smirk that sent a burning sensation right to her sex.

"Merlin, you need to cut it out," she managed through the giggles she couldn't contain.

That confounding crease she loved formed between his eyes in response. "Why?"

Reaching onto her tiptoes, Hermione hugged him around the back, her fingers digging into the loose fabric of his cloak. "Because you're making it increasingly hard to say no."

"Am I?" he taunted her further, rubbing his hands along the curve of her waist. Hermione unconsciously pressed herself closer.

"Yes..."

"I'd say in this little number I should be telling you to stop."

"Oh?" Hermione's flashy smile spread from ear to ear. "Like what you see?"

"That's a tripe of a question." He paused, his simmering eyes intensifying. "_Mrs. Snape._"

It was declared in a soft, catlike purr, understatedly heartfelt. Hermione could feel the heat in her cheeks radiating off her skin and slowly brought her lips to meet his own. He pushed back, eager and aching of want. Hermione bit lightly on his lower lip, smiling up at him all the while.

"I like that. Say it again."

Severus, however, pulled away and tugged her by the arm, leading her across the street towards their hotel. "You're insane," he taunted, though she could tell his eyes were quite amused.

"I mean it," she prodded all the way back to their room. "Say it again, scoundrel."

Severus led Hermione up an elevator to the twelfth floor and into the suite they had been staying in the past three nights. Bringing the place to light with his wand, he made an elegant flick of his wrist and, unexpectedly, music infiltrated the room. Light music—a piano—softly played, the echo of a tune Hermione loved above all others; one that spoke so fondly of Severus that she too often forgot that the song wasn't, in fact, written specifically for him. As far as she was concerned, however, _it was._

"_The mere idea of you... The longing here for you... You'll never know how slow the moments go 'till I'm near to you..._"

Hermione smiled and hummed along, unaware of Severus watching her with her eyes closed, savoring their wedding song as it pervaded the intimate space. "Where'd you get this?" she asked, referring to the Muggle CD hidden away in the stereo system beneath the television set.

"I bought it while you were browsing that coat store in Paris."

"You're a sly one."

Severus stalked over to her, his limp black hair cascading forward as he peered down thoughtfully into her face, his features containing—for her alone to decipher—all the subtle sentiments of happiness. "I... I have something to tell you."

Hermione's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. "You do?"

"Yes. I had hoped to tell you over dinner. I thought it might..." He looked about the room, freshly uncertain. "Be more appropriate."

"Well, if you're worried about the setting," Hermione gave him a reassuring smile and glided her arms to hug him around the waist, "this is quite romantic."

Hermione inclined her neck to kiss him delicately, her lips mapping their way around his, fighting to restrain themselves and hold onto the sweetness of the moment. Severus slowly drew back, bowing to lightly kiss the tip of her nose.

"Very well."

"Everything all right?"

"Yes..."

Hermione embraced him tighter and cocked her head to one side. "Why do you look worried then?"

"I'm not," he growled, fighting whatever it was he needed to say. "I just... I just need to talk."

More befuddled than ever, Hermione urged him to have a seat on the bed, where she joined him. Seated facing him, Hermione was stunned when, for an excruciatingly stretched out pause, Severus couldn't—or wouldn't—look at her. His hands latched onto one of hers, enfolding it with warmth, but his demeanor wasn't warm; rather, it was disconcerting.

"Love, what is it?"

Hermione reached out with her free hand and wove a few stray hairs out of his eyes, even though they determinedly wouldn't meet her own. "I... I've been thinking..."

"Yes?"

"About what we've been discussing for some time now: my health, our future," his voice briefly trailed off, his eyes finally settling upon her angst-ridden face, "children..."

Hermione ears perked up; she hadn't expected that topic to surface. "Oh?"

"Yes... We both know our future is very uncertain."

"Severus," she tried to interject, sensing the discouragement in what he was about to unveil.

"Please wait." His hands wove more tightly around hers. Taking a deep breath, Severus appeared wearier than before, much like he had earlier that evening. "I know it's a discussion that isn't entirely off the table, but after that war commemoration, we... We _need_ to discuss this, and we've been putting it off in light of other things. In the past, I've expressed to you my reservations about having children. There are many reasons—so many negatives—against us doing so."

Not giving her the chance to interrupt, Severus pressed on. "For one, I'm not father material. I wasn't ever blessed with that mighty calling to have children. As you've rightfully questioned me in the past, I dislike children. I work in an environment that has me—regrettably—interacting with them on a near constant basis. I don't enjoy it. I wouldn't go so far as to declare that I despise what I do, but my interaction with children is, for the most part, unpleasant.

"Granted, they're older. I have very little experience around younger children, but it admittedly worries me how I might interact with a small child. I wouldn't know how to act, what to do, and there's a grave concern of mine that isn't without its merits."

Severus took another calculated breath, his face now sullen and withdrawn. "I fear becoming the parent my father was—cold, spiteful, intolerable. No child deserves what I experienced, Hermione. I... I don't want to be that sort of parent, incapable of reaching a child, of giving her unfailing love and affection. I've learned how to do so with you, but I'm a work-in-progress, and I may never be fully capable of illustrating warmth, and that's what a child needs and deserves.

"I know you think much more highly of me than I do, Hermione; but my misgivings aren't without validity. I _am_ cold, spiteful, and intolerable in many ways... Much like my mother and father were. And you're an adult, capable of understanding me on a level that a child couldn't—"

"Severus—"

"Please hear me out," he insisted with surprising patience, if not weariness. "I... I'm still learning how to openly show affection. You know how poor I am at it. I don't want a child to ever misinterpret my feelings for her, and I fear that's something I would do repeatedly; not on purpose, mind you, but... I am what I am. I don't expect adults to understand me, let alone an innocent child who can't comprehend what I've been through, doesn't know how to read me, who could be deeply affected by my actions."

"But Severus..."

"_Please_, Hermione, wait. I have more to say to you." Severus tentatively brought her clutched hand to his chest, holding it there for a drawn out pause as he stared into her eyes. "Despite what I've said, however, I... I need to confess something else to you. Something I haven't been forthright about from the very start. I suppose I didn't necessarily want to admit it to myself, mainly because it's painful. It stems back to when I was a teenager."

Hermione squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue when he halted to run his fingers through his hair several times, a critical scowl painted across his mouth. "You know of my regard for Lily during those years. I was infatuated with her, to the point that I sincerely believed she might come to care for me. And yet, I held onto that hope much longer than I should have, even after she rejected me and we parted ways. I clung to the very small belief that she might still yet come to love me as I loved her; it was ridiculous—an idiotic folly of mine—one I should never have believed in, but I foolishly allowed it of myself...

"You know all this. But when I was forced to come to terms with the loss of Lily, I didn't just submit to the end of our friendship, and later to her death, but to the entire loss of a future I thought I might have with her.

"Yes, she was married by then; I knew there was nothing for it. I'm not a besotted fool. I was merely desperate for something to believe in. Growing up with her, I... I thought we would grow old together. I thought she might someday return my affections, that she'd fall in love with me, that we'd get married, that we'd..."

"Have a family," Hermione whispered, finishing the sentence for him, though a terrible ache now twisted her heart, particularly at seeing the sorrow Severus projected.

"Yes... Indeed, I did. It was senseless—laughable, even—but at one time, as a young man, I _did_ expect to have those things one day. I wished for them, as surly and bitter as I am. I once wanted a family of my own. I grew up, like so many, believing that that was the path my life would eventually take, not one spent single and entirely alone.

"When Lily died, I... I buried those dreams; the possibility of such a future. I buried them all with her. I've considered them lost to me for a long time."

"But they aren't lost anymore, Severus..." Hermione gently swept her hand across his brow, brushing a few strands of his hair between her fingers, as he stared back at her, his focus unwavering, a softness looming in his eyes.

"No... Not until you."

Hermione waited, giving herself a moment to breathe, feeling her chest mounting with anticipation. "And love, acceptance, marriage?" Hermione found herself smiling. "Children?"

"It - It's a selfish wish—" he insisted unsteadily, to which Hermione found herself shaking her head.

"No, it _isn't_, Severus."

"Hermione, what about what I've expressed to you? Don't my reservations hold any bearing whatsoever?"

"Of course they do, Severus! Please don't think I'm not hearing you;_ I am._ I understand where these morbid thoughts stem from. I understand your reluctance. I understand your fears, that you think you'll repeat your father's shortcomings—"

"I will."

"_You won't._ You wouldn't repeat what your father did to you. You want to know why?" Severus waited, his eyes desperately searching hers. "_Because you're stronger and more capable than that._ You're a better person than he ever was, Severus; your mother, too. I didn't marry a cold, heartless arse." Hermione's lips stretched into a tantalizing smile. "Well, you_ can_ be an arse at times, but you're an arse worth loving."

Severus snarled, curling his upper lip, but continued to hold steadfast to her hand, locked in his. "I know you think I'm capable, Hermione, but you didn't live my past. They say that parents often repeat what their parents—"

"Severus, your life has turned out quite different from what you expected. You said so yourself. And you're loving, Severus. You've just had to learn how to express it, because for such a long time, you couldn't be open and honest." Hermione stroked his cheek, her index finger tracing the ivory skin with care. "You're good, Severus," she whispered longingly. "I happen to think—no, I _know_—you'd make an excellent and loving father."

Severus didn't reply at first, caught off his guard by the sheer will of her declaration. "I... I'd like to believe that..." he stated eventually.

"_So believe it, Severus._"

"I have the potential to screw up badly, Hermione. I don't think you realize just how much—"

"Every parent has that capability, Severus, not just _you_." Hermione's free hand glided along the cupid's bow of Severus's mouth. "We're all capable of failure. And no parents are perfect, including mine. We'd_ both_ make mistakes, but we'd do our best and learn from them."

Severus lowered his eyes, his mouth casting into a tight bind. "The reason I'm bringing this all up to you now is because of what we saw in the Mirror of Erised. I confess, I..." he sighed, his shoulders falling forward. "I cannot get the images of those children out of my mind; its been severely eating at me, bit by bit..."

Hermione's face brightened, her eyes lighting up like a beacon. "Neither can I, Severus!" she breathed, relieved to hear such an admission. "I think about them all the time!"

"You do?"

"_Yes!_ Constantly!"

Severus slowly met her excited gaze, his own quiet and meditative. "So do I."

Hermione leaped at her small window of opportunity and gravitated towards him. "Does this... Does this mean you've changed your mind? I don't need an answer now, love," she added, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "This isn't something we need to decide by tomorrow. I - I'd just like to know if you're seriously considering the idea now."

Severus met her question with a slight bow. "Yes," he complied, his voice exceedingly soft. "I am..."

"_Really?_"

Severus threw up a hand to stop her from speaking. "I need to ask you something else, Hermione."

Freshly confused, Hermione tilted her head. "All right?"

"This can't happen next year, or two years, perhaps not even three years from now, if... If it _is_ to happen. I don't know what my looming health circumstances will be, and I want to be healthy enough for this, if we're to expand our family at all. And that's going to take a lot more time." Severus shut his eyes, mustering energy to continue. "We're in no position financially to have a child yet. You know this. We have a new mortgage to pay for, one that will leave us strapped for at least three or four more years."

"Yes, I know. I understand, love."

Severus regarded her with somberness. "If I get worse, if my health declines..."

Hermione wanted to interrupt him with an appeal to _not_ speak on such things, but she relented, though very reluctantly, and, instead, brought one of their intertwined hands to her lips. She lovingly pecked his knuckles, warming his skin with her lips. Swallowing hard, she mustered the composure to nod her compliance.

"Then we won't do it."

"Can you promise me that, Hermione, here and now?"

"Yes, I can."

"You _must_ mean it, my dear," he pressed on, his thumb brushing along her jaw line. "You must _seriously_ consider the possibility that those children—those faces we saw in the mirror—may never be ours..."

The explicitness of those words hovered in the air, breaking Hermione's collectedness. With a heavy frown, she acknowledged the probability with another somber nod of her head.

"Yes, I... I know."

"It may very well be just us, Hermione. Can you contend with that, if that's what our future holds in years to come?"

Hermione found the words easier to express than anticipated. "Yes, love, of course _I can_. I wouldn't have married you if I felt any differently."

After an interlude in which only Billie Holiday's voice filled the silence, Severus cupped Hermione's face in his palm, giving her a subdued, yet poignant declaration. "I want to have a child, Hermione. Despite everything, despite my fears, one day I would very much like us to start a family. If I'm not in a condition where it would be too much of an emotional risk, than I would... I _would_ like to have a child... _With you._"

Hermione could hardly get air. "You - You really mean that, Severus?"

But she didn't need the verbal confirmation. It was all attested in his eyes, in his solemn vow, in the private exchange passing between them. Hermione didn't wait for the reply she knew was coming. She threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him so tightly that he nearly tumbled sideways; but soon she felt the weight of his arms bundle themselves around the curve of her back.

_And she knew._

"Thank you, Severus," she mumbled into his neck, overcome with emotion. "I'm so glad you told me. Thank you for telling me."

"I owed it to you..."

"I can't stop thinking about them. I haven't been able to for weeks."

"I know..."

"I'm so relieved that this is how you feel. I know you haven't been _entirely_ opposed to the idea for a while now, but, well, ever since I saw their faces..." Hermione choked and couldn't speak, alleviated when Severus stroked her back to get her to calm.

"I know, Hermione," Severus replied with a twinge of emotion seeping through his normally steady baritone. "I want it to be a reality, too. I still have many concerns, but the mirror doesn't lie. If this is meant to be, it will happen." He broke off to sigh. "In the meantime, all we can do is hope..."

Hermione suspected what he wanted to say but was refraining from uttering aloud. She didn't want to face it herself, but it _was_ the truth: the only action within their control was to hope for the best, to pray that Severus would still be around—_better, healthier, alive_—for them to bring a beautiful child, one such as _any_ of the wondrous little beings they had seen in the mirror, into their world...

* * *

**A/N #2: Progress at last in the next chapter...**


	68. Firstborn

**A/N: Happy New Year! Have an update! **

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 68: Firstborn**

"I can't believe you made it!" Ginny exclaimed through stifled giggles, her freckles reddening at the sight of her dreary former professor, standing mute in the far corner of the Burrow's cramped sitting room, looking as miserable as could be interpreted by those around him.

Hermione shared Ginny's small fit of laughter, though Harry preferred to hold his breath, easing an arm around his blushing fiancé. The room was packed and bustling—"a madhouse," Severus had commented to Hermione upon entering—with a buffet of hearty food made by the Weasley matriarch, good company, and various conversations taking place throughout the room. A hovering banner of flickering lights spelled out a congratulatory message to Harry and Ginny in celebration of their recent engagement.

"It's about time!" many had roared in response to the news, including Hermione. Severus, on the other hand, offered very little, which wasn't surprising or offensive to anyone.

Even tonight, he hovered in the corner, not socializing much outside of those who approached him first. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry and Ginny, and even George and Percy risked approaching the surly gentleman, but most stood clear, putting plenty of space between them and the former spy, which didn't bother Severus in the least. Hermione didn't leave his side often that evening but also wasn't about to push Severus into more outgoing territory. The man was already out of his comfort zone, and forcing him into anything was, his witch already knew, out of the question.

"_Must_ I attend this ridiculous... What is it again?" he had griped earlier before the event, intently watching his wife as she slipped on a knee-high dress in front of their full length mirror.

"An engagement party!" Hermione snickered, casting a wicked smirk at his reflection just out of range. "And _yes_, you're coming. I won't be attending this alone. They're _your_ friends now as much as mine, Severus."

Severus rightfully chose not to acknowledge that statement. He hardly viewed his former students in the same light, no matter how much that may have suited Hermione.

"For how long?"

"Merlin, do you hate conversing with people _that_ much?"

"No, only certain company."

"Don't start on_ that_, Severus."

"Oh? Why not?"

"It'll be fun!" She paused and shot him a wry grin over her shoulder, one that was pleasantly arousing to a certain dark wizard. "You understand the definition of that term, right? Or shall I explain it to you, _Professor?_"

Severus gave her a severe scowl and a hiss to match. Hermione tittered happily, however, and tied her hair up in a loose bun, allowing several wild curls to cascade down the back of her neck, which Severus admired quietly from afar. Her maroon-colored, form-fitting evening dress with quarter length sleeves that fell off the shoulders took his breath away, to the point that Hermione soon discovered him staring blatantly at her open back as he lay on their bed, fully clothed with his hands resting behind his head. Her smile stretched across her face, enticed by the smoldering expression she was garnering.

"Care to zip me up?" she encouraged, giving him another direct flash of her fetching smile.

Severus consented with ease; he silently rose from the bed, strolling into view in the mirror behind her. Tugging on her back, he worked on closing the back of her gown, his long fingers running over the nape of her neck, then the arch of her shoulders. A few of his straggly hairs tickled her shoulder as his lips bent down to peck her skin, his caress gentle, his strong arms wrapping themselves around her front to hold her in place.

"This_ will_ be fun, Severus," Hermione whispered, more like a soft moan as she leaned back against him, met with the sturdiness of his chest.

"If you say so," he purred back, continuing to map his mouth across her neck and shoulder, his moves slow and deliberate and sending a tingle down her spine.

"Don't be a party pooper."

"Then don't force me into such nonsense."

Hermione shook her head, still smiling, and twirled around in place. "I married a socially inept crab," she teased and pressed her warm lips to his. When Severus's tongue crept inside her mouth, Hermione found herself shoving back in earnest, a shot of electricity jolting straight to her sex, only to have him taunt her by pulling away without warning.

"Manners, Mrs. Snape," he growled, his dark eyes flickering down at the enticing sight of her now heaving chest.

"You're a foul tosser!"

"Mmm, yes, I am."

Hermione humorously smacked his chest and drew up onto her tip toes for another kiss. "And a nasty tease, at that," she added, capturing his upper lip before releasing her hold.

"That, too."

Hermione turned around to finish off her outfit with a pair of earrings, giving herself a critical look over in the mirror, whilst Severus moseyed away out of sight. Hermione thought nothing of it, until she caught another glimpse of him in the mirror a few minutes later. She wandered off to get her shoes, and, after looking herself over a final time, noticed Severus lying back down on the bed again. This time, however, he was fully turned away from her. Hermione could vaguely make out one hand clutching the emerald duvet and the rest of him trembling where he lay. She immediately stiffened and whipped her head around.

"Severus?"

When she received no reply, she rushed over to the bed, worried, and shifted herself behind him, hovering over his trembling form. Severus acknowledged her with a low grumble—or a grunt—but nothing else. His current state was quite a contrast from only minutes prior. His stark figure and robes were spread out across the middle of the bed, and she immediately pressed one hand to his back. His mass of long hair was swept forward, masking most of his face, but there were pearls of sweat evident on his forehead and he was breathing rather heavily.

"Are you all right, love?"

"Yes..."

"Did you take your tonics?"

"Of course I did," Severus carped, inching away from her to let out a few more labored, painful-sounding breaths.

Hermione slowly began circling his back, digging her fingers gently into the fabric. He let out several sharp intakes of air but didn't request that she stop, so she continued.

"What do you need, Severus?" Hermione asked after giving him some uninterrupted silence.

"Nothing..."

"Severus..."

Severus, however, moaned and sunk his face into the pillow in defiance to her help. "I'll be fine in a minute."

"Burning sensations? Chest pains?"

"A little..."

"You sound tired, love. Do you want something else? It might help—"

"No."

Not having the heart to push, unless things dramatically took a turn for the worse, Hermione continued massaging Severus's back and consoling him through the pain as best that she could. If the past four years of married life had taught Hermione anything, it was that her touch was supposedly 'miraculous,' at least, according to her husband. Severus had told her so on a number of occasions since they were married, and, even if she didn't understand it, it was a comforting thought, nonetheless.

"Do you want to rest a while and see how you feel?"

"No..."

"Well, what about any temperament flare ups?"

"Hermione, _stop_," Severus heaved through a weakened snarl. "_I'm all right._"

Hermione scooted up against him and bent her neck low to affectionately kiss his cheek. "Well, now would be a convenient time to say you're too indisposed to go to the party." Hermione was heartened to hear him chuckle, albeit shortly, and kissed him a second time. "Speak now or forever hold your peace, Mister."

"No," he mumbled into his pillow, "I'll be fine."

"Oh, right, _of course you will._"

"Insufferable..."

"Git." Hermione delicately whisked black hairs out of his eyes to cup them behind his ear and eased herself off of the bed, though reluctantly. "Stay put, Severus. I'll be right back."

Hermione returned less than a minute later, levitating a small bowl of hot water and a washcloth from the loo and situated them in front of Severus, still lying unmoving on top of the bed. Taking a seat at his back, she doused the washcloth and carefully pressed it to Severus's forehead, noting that the subtle trembles from earlier had gotten progressively worse. They eased a little at the warmth of the water now dabbing his cold skin, however.

"Severus, why on earth didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?"

"I..."

"You _have_ to tell me these things, love." Severus mumbled something incoherent, which did nothing for the helplessness Hermione already felt. "Stubborn sod," she resigned with a forced, small smile.

Severus shifted his legs but otherwise remained still. "Takes one to know one."

"Oh? Well, _you_ proposed to _me_, remember?"

"Mmm." Severus slowly opened his eyes, though only halfway. "One of the few decent things I've ever done in my life..."

Hermione found herself pausing what she was doing, her eyes staring down at Severus's without blinking. Her soft, though sad, smile extended, and she proceeded to dab the washcloth around his cheeks and mouth.

"You're something else," she murmured with a sympathetic shake of her head.

Severus closed his eyes. "Well, now would be a good time to..." His sentence trailed off, his words growing sluggish amidst Hermione's stroking the washcloth over his face and the calming sensations it brought.

"Good time to what, love?" she pressed ever so quietly.

"Nothing. Never mind."

"Feeling any better yet?"

"Yes, that helps. Thank you..."

"Don't mention it."

Hermione rinsed the washcloth and patted his brow again. Severus forced himself to look up at her, his eyelids now red-rimmed and heavier than before.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, love?"

"What about... What we've been discussing?"

Hermione labored over that thought for a good half a minute or so before quietly resounding to let it go. "One day at a time, Severus," she insisted, laying the washcloth flat across his forehead, leaving her hand free to weave through soft strands of his hair. "Let's see how you feel after your next visit with Augustus."

Severus's head rolled sideways. "Yes..." he replied sleepily. "All right."

"You sure you want to go to this now?"

"I didn't think I had a choice?"

"I'm being serious, Severus."

"I know you are." Severus rubbed his cheek against the pillow and ignored her concerns. "Wake me in a half hour when you're ready to go."

Hermione sighed. "If you insist."

Later, at the party, Hermione had purposely kept an eye on Severus the few times she moseyed away out of sight, usually to get a drink, something to munch on, or if she were being pulled away by Ginny or Luna or someone else against her will. To anyone present, however, they would have expected nothing out of the ordinary from the former spy. He had been wearing his seemingly permanent scowl most of the evening, standing still as a statue with his hands planted behind his back.

"Well, we're glad you came," Ginny insisted after they had all shared a laugh at the disgruntled wizard's expense.

Ginny waited a moment before stepping forward out of Harry's arms and into Severus's personal space—something no one ever dared, aside from Hermione. The fiery redhead brushed her lips lightly against Severus's cheek, then fell back and gave him an appreciative grin, a warm exchange that had grown with time, patience, and a blossoming acceptance. Severus's cheeks burned red, but the rest of him remained collected and cool.

"Congratulations, Miss Weasley," was about all he could manage without appearing downright awkward.

"Thank you!"

Molly suddenly came bustling into view, holding a tray of hors d'oeuvres in one hand that had already been significantly picked over. "What are we talking about?" she asked eagerly, flashing Hermione an especially fervid smile.

"How happy we are that Severus decided to show up," Harry piped up, addressing the professor in a manner that no one found out of the ordinary, not even Severus himself, although it wasn't normally reciprocated.

As far as Severus was concerned, they may not have been on a first name basis—calling the Potter boy 'Harry' put him entirely out of his element and probably always would—but there was a mutual respect that had flourished in the years since the war ended. Hermione couldn't call it any sort of budding friendship, but she was delighted to see her husband and best friend getting on so famously, for the most part.

"Oh! Well, yes, we_ are_ very glad Severus decided to join us," Molly agreed; only Hermione caught the flicker of annoyance behind her wizard's impenetrable eyes. "It's about time he paid our home a visit. When was the last time you two were here together? Christmas?"

"I believe so," Hermione answered in high spirits.

"Well, then, Hermione, you must start getting _this one_ to attend more of our family gatherings. We aren't entirely unbearable, you know! Here, have some of these!"

Propelling the platter of roasted apricots drizzled in honey and blackberry under their noses, Severus tried not to sneer outright and respectfully stepped backward with a silent decline. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione cut in, refraining from laughing. "Maybe later."

Molly shrugged and turned towards her daughter and future son-in-law, jabbering on about a bunch of "wedding nonsense," which gave Severus and Hermione a moment to converse amongst themselves. Severus bent his neck to whisper into Hermione's ear, "That's about the fourth time she's shoved food in my face," with a clearly agitated snarl.

That got Hermione tittering under her breath. "Severus, you _know_ how she is."

"Yes, well, I don't think that's the only reason she keeps moseying over to this side of the room..."

"Oh, Severus, c'mon. She likes to force-feed everyone."

"You know what I'm referring to, Hermione..."

Hermione smiled up at him, understanding the scornful look he was wearing to a certain degree, and reached an arm around his back to bring him close. "She can't help that either," she whispered in the poor woman's defense.

"Oh, I believe she _can_."

"She's just overly excited, love. If there's one person in all the wizarding world who wants to see every single woman she knows mother children, it's Molly. It's embedded in her DNA."

"Why did you even feel compelled to say anything?"

"I didn't, Severus. I told you, I was cornered. I wasn't going to lie."

"I don't see what the harm would have been in_ not_ saying anything, Hermione!"

"Last I checked, we aren't expecting yet, Severus—"

"_Precisely!_" he growled, exacerbated. "Now the woman's not going to stop hammering on either of us until she knows for certain that you're pregnant!"

Hermione laughed louder. "I don't mind."

"Well, _I_ do!"

"Stop moping and give her a little more credit, would you?" Hermione tugged on his arm. "She's excited for us. Our friends and family are being supportive. That's a _good_ thing, Severus."

"I'm not so sure..." Severus abruptly thought better of what he was about to finish saying, but it still heightened the young witch's attention.

"Sure of what, Severus?"

"Nothing," he hastily replied, snatching her empty cup from her hand. "I'll get you a refill," he added and dashed away before she could so much as blink.

Hermione's alarmed eyes trailed after his long, rippling robes, caught off guard by his unnerving, unfinished comment. "Hermione, are you all right?" came Molly's invasive questioning into her private worries once Severus was on the opposite end of the room.

"Oh, erm, yes. Fine, thank you."

"And how are things going?"

Hermione had suspected Mrs. Weasley would seize the opportunity to press her for more information as soon as Severus was out of earshot. "Nothing yet, Mrs. Weasley," she confessed through a halfhearted smile.

Molly didn't appear the least bit affected. "Oh, well, it will happen in its own time, dear. These two," she abruptly pointed to Harry and Ginny, who were in the midst of sharing a private snog, though Harry immediately backed away, blushing, "aren't wasting any time, I'm afraid. I've told them repeatedly that they should wait at least a year—"

"_Mum, enough!_" Ginny hissed. "We've told you this was coming."

"But why not do the smart thing like Hermione here? She and Severus have waited 'till the time was right."

Catching the fiery glare in Ginny's eyes that warned her a Weasley row was about to ensue, Hermione interjected, "Well, perhaps this _is_ the right time for them, Mrs. Weasley. It simply wasn't for us. Everyone's timing is different."

"Anyway!" Ginny huffed. "I thought you'd be breathing down our necks the moment we said our vows to start a family, Mum!"

"Oh, codswallop!" Molly swatted her daughter's shoulder, giving her a reassuring smile. "I just think you two should wait a little is all; six months, even. Hermione and Severus have waited until they were in a solid financial position to start trying."

"Yes, well, there were other factors involved, too," Hermione reluctantly inserted, catching a glimpse of her husband across the room at the punch table, where he had somehow been roped into a conversation—most likely not of his choosing—by Arthur and Kingsley. She knew Severus would hate to overhear them discussing his health problems.

As if on cue, Molly asked after that very concern. "How is he doing, Hermione?"

"He's doing all right."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Just 'all right'?"

Hermione twitched and folded her hands together. "This week's been a little rough for him, but he'll be fine."

Hermione wasn't sure if she was saying that more for her own benefit or if it was, in fact, the case, but either way, she wasn't willing to go into detail. It seemed that Harry, Ginny, and Molly felt otherwise, however.

"What's wrong?" Ginny inquired, her eyes laden with concern. "Is he feeling worse?"

"Just the past few days."

"Oh... Is that normal?"

"Somewhat, yes."

Harry placed an arm around Ginny's waist. "You called them flare ups before, didn't you?"

"Yes, that's right."

"What causes them?" Mrs. Weasley pressed, drawing closer.

"Anything. Stress, anxiety, overexertion... He only got home from Hogwarts last weekend, so I think adjusting to a less hectic schedule has been harder on him than he expected."

"Oh... Well, does that mean your plans..." Ginny didn't finish her question, but Hermione sensed where she was going; Molly, too, looked increasingly concerned.

"We're going to wait and see what Augustus says, then go from there."

Hermione caught a flash of billowing robes striding towards them and quickly dropped the subject, praying her friends would as well. Silently handing her another cup of punch, Severus crept into his usual spot at her side, and the topic, to her relief, was cast aside.

They had only recently gotten more serious about starting a family; mainly on account of how well Severus had been doing health-wise in recent months. It had been Severus who finally caved and came to Hermione, stating he felt comfortable enough and ready.

It took everything Hermione had not to tease him. _ At least he_ looks _like he isn't scared shitless._

Hermione hadn't been sure over the past year or so what to expect. Having children was something they routinely discussed, but it was only in the past few months that progress was finally being attempted in that department.

_Hopefully we'll have some good news_, Hermione reflected, silently thinking over the prospect of Severus's next visit to St. Mungo's. _I hope we aren't just kidding ourselves and that this can actually work..._

* * *

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised," Augustus smiled as he jotted down a few notes with his quill.

Severus merely sneered and glanced at the stone wall, but Hermione was doing her best to stifle her laughter behind a tight smile. She couldn't help it. Despite the possible outcome, Hermione was admittedly excited. She could only hope this wasn't another delusion for them both.

"You aren't?" she piped up, willing the lightheartedness to continue for as long as possible.

"No. Oddly enough, I've often suspected the subject of children might sprout up for you two."

Severus eyed the Healer with an arched eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?" he challenged quietly.

"Because as unpleasant as you act, Severus, you have a soft spot when it comes to Hermione here. I think that would extend to children as well."

Severus's ashen cheeks turned a shade of pink and he quickly turned away again, holding tight to Hermione's hand but not addressing the Healer's observation. Hermione discretely guided his hand into her lap, waiting as patiently as she could for Augustus to give them the go-ahead she so desperately craved to hear.

The Healer finally cast his quill away and tossed Severus's chart aside into the air, where it hovered just out of reach. Looking his patient over thoughtfully, he cleared his throat, and Hermione's smile lessened at the uneasiness decipherable behind Augustus's unfailingly kind, brown eyes.

"Well, I'll be frank with you," he began, getting Severus's attention as well. "This was a particularly bad flare up for you, but considering how remarkably well you've been doing in recent months, we need to look at the positive."

"Here we go," Severus muttered under his breath, earning a silencing nudge from his wife.

"Your heart murmur is slightly worse and your blood count is lower than what I would like, but I think if we adjust elixirs 14 and 23, you'll fare much better. We'll have to test them out and see. We seem to have gotten on target with your temperament tonics, so we'll leave those alone for the time being. And the stiffness in your joints, we'll have to address those separately."

Severus grumbled a, "Very well," and lowered his eyes a fraction. The Healer took his compliance as his leeway into the conversation the couple was most anxious for input on and sighed, his cheerful disposition depleting enough that it caused Hermione some concern.

"I think you could continue to do well, just as you have been, though the severe relapses you've had the past two years are of concern to me. I don't see those stopping unless a cure is found, Severus, and I think that's something you both need to be on board with if you're thinking about children."

"I... Yes, we understand," Hermione whispered, squeezing Severus's hand tighter.

"You'd have to be prepared to not always be at your best, Severus. I hope you realize that."

"Of course I do," Severus sniped before thinking better of it, and he lowered his voice. "We just wish to know if I still have a fighting chance, Augustus. If not, then this conversation ends here and now."

"Severus..." Hermione started, but Augustus put up a hand to stop her.

"I've told you both before there are no guarantees. I can't stress that to you enough. I _can't_ know for sure, Severus, how much time you have. Considering how well you've done these past six months—much better than I've predicted—I have hope._ I do._ That being said, however, I can't make any assumptions that it will always be this way. I _do_ believe you have a fighting chance if we continue on this current path of treatment."

"Then us starting a family," Hermione stated slowly, searching the Healer's face with apprehension. "Us having children... Would you say we could or..."

"You could, yes," came Augustus's direct answer. "It would be a gamble but not impossible."

_A gamble_, Hermione internalized, sucking in a breath, unaware of Severus regarding her silently.

"Like I said, I make no assumptions about your long-term health prognosis, Severus. It's constantly changing, but you've done far better on these latest potions of ours than I ever expected you to. It's an encouraging sign; a _very_ encouraging outlook. I just don't want you two to get your hopes up. If you're thinking of having children, you mustn't only look at the good—at all the progress you've made—but the opposite side of the coin as well. You could get worse. Is that something you're willing to contend with, should you decide to start a family, or no? I'm afraid that's a decision only the two of you can make..."

The room fell silent for a considerable pause, and the unconventional couple seated on a cot against the wall held expressions of solemn contemplation. Hermione gazed into her husband's face, and he into hers, but neither could bring themselves to say anything yet.

After giving them this quiet exchange to think it over, Augustus rose from his seated position and shot them both another comforting smile. "I'll see about getting those tonics for you to try. I'll be back shortly."

Once the Healer was out of sight, Hermione leaned her head against Severus's shoulder and tightened her grip around his arm. "Well, love, what do you think?"

"I don't know..."

The curls atop Hermione's head brushed Severus's chin as she peered up at him, her caramel eyes meditative and open. "He didn't say we shouldn't."

"But he didn't say we _should_ either."

"I know..."

Severus leaned likewise into her and kissed her forehead. "He's right, you know. We have to consider the very real possibility that I might not recover in the future."

"Severus..."

"Which would leave you to fend for yourself, Hermione. I... I don't want that for you."

"Neither do I."

"And I'm virtually indisposed when I have these episodes, which would also leave you stranded, even if just temporarily."

"Don't worry about me, Severus."

"_That isn't fair, Hermione._"

"Yes, it is. It's something we'd have to contend with, like Augustus said, and that's that." Hermione sighed and, taking his hand in hers, brought it to her lips, kissing the back of his hand several times, snuggling her face into the warmth of his skin. Then she folded his hand in her own and clutched it to her chest. "It's not ideal, Severus, but I can handle it. It wouldn't be easy, I know, but I can do it. And I wouldn't put the offer on the table if I didn't believe it of myself."

"I know you _can_, Hermione; I just don't think you should."

"I know you don't..."

"Then what should we do?" Severus swept a few curls off of Hermione's shoulder and took possession of her chin in his palm. "What do you say?"

"I... I'd still like to try..."

Severus gave her a half-cocked smirk. "I knew your resolution wouldn't budge."

"Does that bother you?"

"No, not at all."

"Really?"

"Really."

Hermione shifted closer and nuzzled his nose with hers, an excited smile etched across her mouth. "You still want to try, too?"

"Yes, I... I do." He growled, mostly at himself, his conflicting emotions becoming more clear. "As selfish as it is, I _want_ a family. With _you_."

"Then should... Should we try for it?"

Severus's expression softened, his mouth cast in an unperturbed frown. "Yes..." he whispered. "I think we should."

Hermione's eyes nearly shot out of their sockets, and she seized him around the neck, gripping him tight, overjoyed and overcome with emotion. She felt the weight of Severus's arms knot themselves around her back.

"_A baby_, Severus!"

"Merlin, help me," he muttered so quietly Hermione almost hadn't heard, and to which she laughed.

"Git!"

She squeezed him and brushed the side of his face with several elated kisses. Then, suddenly, her expression went from utter excitement to despondent.

"What if I can't get pregnant, Severus?"

Severus reared back and, to her surprise, chuckled, taking her hands from around his neck and bringing them to safeguard against his chest. "One step at a time, all right, lioness? We're not on a deadline."

"Yes, well, so far..."

"Stop it, would you?" he hissed, still smirking at her; he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. "You're killing the moment."

"_Me?_"

"Yes, _you._"

To that, Hermione snickered and snuggled into the crook of his neck, pecking his cheek thoughtfully several times. "Maybe it'll be easier for us than I'm imagining."

"Yes, well, it doesn't have to happen tomorrow."

Hermione giggled into his ear, causing his breath to give way. "Would you be opposed if it did?"

"That's a trick question."

"No, it isn't!" Hermione insisted, but then her mouth was overtaken by a pair of heated lips that pressed themselves gently against hers, overpowering her senses within seconds.

Hermione willingly allowed this intimate exchange. It was finally happening. After years of contemplating, of weighing the pros and cons, of wondering whether she might ever have the chance at a future with one of those beautiful little beings she had seen in the Mirror of Erised four years ago, she and Severus were finally going to take the plunge into parenthood.

_Please, let there be no more hurdles to jump through_, her mind briefly deliberated before being entirely swept up in Severus's kiss.

* * *

_Wow... I... Really?_

Frozen in the loo off of their bedroom, a shocked, disheveled witch with a slightly gaping mouth stared back at Hermione in the mirror. Immediately, she cast the charm again to confirm her recent findings; or had she already done that? Yes, she must have cast it three or four times now, just to be sure...

Hermione had missed her period the week before but hadn't informed Severus. She didn't want to jump to conclusions too soon and get both of their hopes up. As it was, her husband hadn't been home the past several days anyhow, having gone off to a Potions convention in Brussels at the spur of the moment on the invitation of an old colleague from Durmstrang, Hamilton Cosworth, one of the few good friends Severus had retained since the First Wizarding War. Hermione had been unable to get off work in time to accompany him on his trip.

_Just as well..._

Although, not now. Not now that she finally had confirmation of what had been turning over in her mind since right before Severus's departure.

_Merlin, if he's late getting home tonight, there will be hell to pay!_

Still wearing off the shock of the news, Hermione set to busying herself the rest of that uneventful Saturday afternoon: scrubbing the kitchen from top to bottom, dusting, doing laundry, and writing a few correspondences—all without magic so that it filled up more of her time.

By five o'clock, however, Hermione was tired and anxious, and Severus wasn't expected for at least another three or four hours. _Bugger all! Check again, Hermione_, the compulsive part of her brain barked at her. _Just to be sure._

So, Hermione did just that. She checked a sixth, seventh, eighth time with her wand, and each casting of the spell showcased the same result: she was pregnant.

_I can't believe it..._

Hermione cursed herself. _Of course_ she would find out she was expecting whilst Severus was away! She paced back and forth before the fireplace, twiddling her thumbs and attempting to find various things to occupy her mind with while awaiting his return. Even books were proving to be an unsuccessful distraction.

_That's a first._

Finally, at eight thirty-three to be exact, Severus came Flooing through the hearth, momentarily filling the snug sitting room with a vibrant green light. He had barely stepped through and dusted off the lingering soot from his cloak when he was met by a pair of dainty arms that threw themselves around his neck, attacking him on the spot.

"You're home!" came Hermione's desperate exclamation, earning a small smile from the dark wizard.

"I suppose this is your way of telling me you missed me?"

"Git!" Hermione firmly pecked his cheek, heartened by the fluttering of quiet, robust laughter that filled her ears. "Did you miss _me_ at all?"

"Is that another one of your trick questions?"

It was Hermione's turn to laugh, and, despite how overrun she had been feeling all day, she suddenly felt remarkably at ease in his presence, bringing her lips to kiss his with an eagerness and force to be reckoned with. "Easy, lioness," she vaguely heard him growl, pushing back from her repeatedly until he managed to do so with success. Hermione found that rather endearing, the severe line between his eyes forming as he peered down at his peculiar witch. "What is this? What's going on?"

"Can't I get excited at seeing my husband after being apart for nearly a week?" Hermione insisted, reaching out her hand to affectionately caress his cheek.

Severus's senses were heightened, however, and the blackness of his eyes only grew more suspicious. "Something's going on... What is it?"

Hermione shot him an encouraging smile. "Perhaps there is..."

"What are you..."

Severus suddenly paused, his body freezing where he stood. Hermione had guided one of his hands silently to her stomach, where she firmly held it in place. Severus slowly met her rousing expression of suppressed anticipation and, all of a sudden, his mouth felt parched. His complexion whitened, if that were possible, and his eyes expanded slightly before resuming their normal shape.

"Are you..." he started but stopped short.

Hermione nodded, her elation lighting up her entire face. She had an unmistakable glow about her that was entirely different from any other time before, and, though Severus didn't quite understand it, the sight of her exquisite exhilaration left him bereft of air, along with the news.

"Yes, Severus," Hermione answered in an excited whisper, echoing the words she had been longing to share all day, "I'm pregnant!"

* * *

**A/N #2: I'll be posting the last chapter probably by the end of the weekend and then the Epilogue sometime next week. Wow, can't believe we're nearing the end. **

**Hope you'll leave me your thoughts as we wind things down. Thanks so much!**


	69. Lily

**A/N: Moving right along... ********As a friendly reminder, you can keep up with the Snape family if you wish to on Tumblr once this story is through: _thesnapes {dot} tumblr {dot}com_**  


**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Chapter 69: Lily**

The months that followed flew by in a whirlwind of heightened emotions: excitement, thrills, nerves, and downright worry, at least for one of them. Severus buried his insecurities and reservations well enough from his wife, but, when left alone with his thoughts, his mind reeled, as it so often did, about the uncertainty of the future and what it might hold for Hermione and their unborn child—_a daughter_.

A month after learning they were expecting, Hermione and Severus found out the sex of the baby via a simple charm. Severus hadn't been sure of his own emotions about having a boy versus a girl. He didn't think it would matter much, as long as the child growing within Hermione's petite body was healthy and had all ten fingers and toes.

When the spell informed them of what they were having—that the baby was, in fact, a girl—something undoubtedly warm and soothing swelled inside Severus's chest, expanding and trickling to every part of his body, as if by some unknown brand of magic. It was entirely comforting, leaving him enthused and strangely captivated in its wake.

"A little girl," Hermione had whispered aloud, beaming up at Severus at the news. "What do you think, Severus?"

Severus had admittedly been lost for words, the only thought tangible in his mind that of a miniature Hermione—a tiny being much like that of his wife romping around their house, with wild curls and a pale complexion like his own, perhaps even with darker eyes like his. Severus was surprised how positive his response was to the idea of a female addition to their family, until he remembered those bewitching little girls in the Mirror of Erised...

"It's wonderful," he eventually managed to get out, swept up in Hermione's gracious look and the conjuring image of the possibility of any one of those little girls in his mind.

"It... It feels right, doesn't it? I know I would have been just as thrilled at the prospect of having a boy, but a little girl... Well, it just feels..."

"Meant to be?" Severus finished, easing her into his arms.

"Yes," came her warm confession.

The rest of Hermione's pregnancy had been a combination of fascination and mixed with anxiety, and, at times, downright nausea. Literally. Hermione's bouts of morning sickness started almost immediately, though, according to Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Granger, and a handful of other females who had no problem inserting their opinions where Severus's concerns were warranted, Hermione's sickness was "mild" in comparison to what any of them had encountered. Hermione supposed they were right, for it only lasted the first two months of her pregnancy, and not on a consistent basis at that. Usually, she managed to make it to the bathroom, though never without waking Severus or sending him into a fretful state.

"Severus, I'm not dying," she would snicker, even when she was hovering over the toilet with the man's hands pulling back her curls.

"You sound like it, woman!" he snarled back, sending her into fits of giggles that confounded and aggravated him to no end.

Her eating habits had been another force to be reckoned with. "Shall I order you another three-course meal?" Severus offered with an arched eyebrow one evening they decided to take in the sights of Muggle London, ending the day at a cozy Irish pub, where they sat by the window, Hermione having consumed her own meal and then some, picking over most of Severus's food without fail. He tried not to scold her for stealing three quarters of his fish and chips, though by the time she had eaten nearly half of them, he smacked her hand away and hissed accordingly, sending the pregnant witch into fits of laughter.

"Hey, I'm eating for_ two_ here, Mister, so watch it!"

"Judging by _that_ display, I'm tempted to think there may be more than just one in there!" he growled, his face scrunched up before his eyes suddenly alerted to another concern. "There isn't, is there?"

Hermione lost her composure entirely and cackled loudly and in a piercing high pitch. "Oh, Merlin, would you relax? Of course there isn't!"

"That's a bombshell I'd prefer _not_ to have dropped on me, either now or in the future." Severus grumbled and plucked at his food, sending the rest over in Hermione's direction.

"Believe me, love, that's impossible," she snickered and placed a thoughtful hand over her swollen stomach. "Not enough room."

She was about four months along at the time, but, to everyone else, she looked "very pregnant;" _whatever_ that's _supposed to mean_, Severus griped to himself. Was there a lesser form of pregnancy he wasn't aware of?

The gradual progression of Hermione's pregnancy left Severus entirely absorbed, if not slightly daunted by her evolving figure. Her swelling belly, for one, was a peculiar marvel to behold, particularly being offset by her slight figure, which she had maintained otherwise. She was "all belly," as Mrs. Weasley warmly termed it.

_Of course she is!_ Severus thought, abashed at what the Weasley matriarch could possibly be referring to. _What else would she be? She's pregnant!_

Hermione caught the intrigued wizard staring at her expanded stomach more than a number of times, either directly or out of the corner of his eye when he was supposedly reading or writing or grading essays during weekend excursions away from Hogwarts. She would simply smile and go about her business, unaffected by how curious he had become, if only quietly, towards her growing figure.

Severus made the point of informing her, always off guardedly, that she was "beautiful" or "lovely." Not that Hermione asked for it or thought much about her heavier set frame. She was "carrying a baby, for Merlin's sake, not a garden gnome," even though sometimes it felt as such. Hermione couldn't comprehend why some women got all bent out of shape over losing their figures. She gladly let herself go a little. Her husband certainly didn't seem to mind a pregnant, heftier Hermione, so why should she?

The baby's first kicks nearly sent Hermione flying off the couch and a paranoid Severus reaching for his wand in a wave of panic. "She kicked! I felt her!" Hermione all but squealed, seizing the shaken wizard's hand and forcing it upon her stomach, hoping a shocked Severus would sense what she had just discovered seconds ago. It took a little longer than either of them anticipated, but soon Hermione perceived the faint glimmer of acknowledgement in Severus's eyes.

"Was that..." he whispered, unnaturally skittish and unsure.

"It was, yes! Can you feel her?"

"Yes, I can..."

Hermione's smile broadened as she watched her wizard's subtle expression of awe. "It's amazing, isn't it?" When Severus didn't answer, only kept his mouth slightly agape, Hermione couldn't suppress her laughter. "Are you unsettled by it, _Professor?_"

"What? No!"

"With all due respect, love, you look like you're about to lose your lunch."

Severus ground his teeth and scrutinized her through slits for eyes. "I am not. It's just..."

"Strange?"

"I was going to say 'surreal,' but if you must."

Hermione playfully rolled her eyes and settled in at his side, her head resting comfortably against his chest with one hand still over top of his on her stomach. The kicking went on sporadically for another ten more minutes, and, in that time, Severus's hand never moved or shied away. If anything, he simply wished to study the small bursts of life that repeated themselves—miraculously—to him through Hermione.

It was awe-inspiring—and a bit unhinging—this new breath of life forming inside of his wife, a little being that would, in a matter of months, join them. Was he ready? On the one hand, after years of talk, Severus had chalked himself up to being thoroughly prepared, but that couldn't have been farther from the truth on the rare occasions when he let his guard down.

Truth be told, he was terrified out of his wits, by fears he would _never_ openly express to Hermione. What if he failed? What if the child didn't love him, or worse, came to resent him for who he was, for his past, for who he had once been?

_Focus on the positive, Severus... For Hermione's sake, if not yours..._

Memorable moments of expectancy would continue throughout the next several months, but each time the kicking or another milestone made itself known, the experiences were just like the first. Severus could sometimes hardly believe it was a daughter he was watching grow and expand and come to life, within reach, only he couldn't truly touch or see her. Sensing her, however, was powerful enough; its own form of euphoric magic.

"Whoa," Hermione murmured one night in bed, snuggled up against Severus for warmth, the pair of them lying on their backs.

"What?" Severus's head shot up, one hand grabbing hold of her arm.

"Did you see that?"

Severus traced Hermione's gaze to her stomach, puzzled, and was about to inquire as to what the hell Hermione was talking about so vaguely when he saw it for himself. Movement. An actual flux that glided over Hermione's stomach. Severus's body immediately tensed up, his eyes flickering like mad, unaware of Hermione peering up at him and on the verge of busting up laughing.

"Merlin, don't look so mesmerized, Severus," she teased, extending her neck to tenderly kiss his cheek, her giggles getting the best of her.

"What the hell was _that?_" he demanded to know, almost accusatorily, making her laugh even harder.

"It's just _her_, Severus. She's moving; must be the chili we had for dinner. She's bouncing off the walls! I think that was a han..." Hermione abruptly stopped to marvel as the movement happened again before their eyes. "Yep, definitely a hand."

"What in the..."

Leaving Hermione tittering incessantly where she was, and situated comfortably, Severus inched his way down towards her stomach, examining her active belly as if he were studying one of his rare potion ingredients. Hermione smiled as she thoughtfully watched the curiously compelled wizard, his raven eyes focused and his mouth cast into a frown of the utmost concentration. Suddenly, the form of a hand or a foot surfaced, and Hermione breathed a "Wow" of wonderment again as it trickled away out of sight.

Severus, meanwhile, traced where their daughter had disappeared with his long fingers, touching the very spot where she had been only moments ago. He was completely transfixed, his eyes never diverting from that peculiar spot of phenomenon.

Slowly, the dark wizard dipped his head down over Hermione's stomach, pressing an ear to her skin, where he rested himself for a time, listening intently for any sign of their daughter. But the action seemed to have died down. Severus was somewhat aware of the dainty fingers brushing gently through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp and making him drowsy and calmer where he was positioned.

"Can you hear her?" Hermione whispered after a while, smiling down at him as she observed the wizard quietly, though all she could see was the top of his head.

"No, I... I think the movements have stopped."

"Mmm. Perhaps our daughter's sleeping now."

"Perhaps..."

"She stopped kicking once you laid down beside her, did you notice?"

Severus's eyelashes fluttered. "Oh?"

"Yes... I think she likes it when you're near."

Without missing the opportunity for snarkiness, Severus replied coolly, "I think you're cracking up," and rubbed his cheek against her stomach. A light smack to the back of his head made him smile as his eyes drifted shut, his head growing ever more comfortable against his wife's stomach, against his daughter's soft humming, the pair of them lulling him to sleep with remarkable ease.

* * *

"What about Meghan?"

Severus gave her a look that could curdle milk. "Absolutely not," he stated in a low, almost offended hiss.

Hermione scrunched up her nose, lowering the thick baby book she was holding. "Why not?"

"It sounds like a disease."

"_A disease?_"

"And it's far too ordinary."

"Oh! Well, that's true... For us, it might seem rather misplaced." Hermione frowned slightly. "I still like it though."

"Suit yourself."

Hermione stuck out her tongue, then returned quietly to her book, though her mind was still brainstorming names, just as it had from the start. There was one particular name that she kept coming back to, although, Severus had been decidedly against it when she finally got the nerve to approach him for his opinion. She knew she shouldn't keep chancing it in the hopes that Severus might come around to the idea, but the name was relentlessly nagging at her, always present in the back of her mind.

Hermione didn't understand _why_, really. Granted, she liked the name and thought it to be quite lovely. Her mother and father certainly approved of the name, but then, of course, they didn't know of all the complicated implications that lay behind it, particularly for Severus.

_But why should it matter?_ her mind kept fighting the internal battle.

After all, there was certainly more than _that_ particular redhead who carried such a name, so it hardly belonged to her, per say; Hermione couldn't help but suspect, however, that Severus believed she _did_, in fact, hold control over the name somehow, as if it were destined to remain hers and no one else's, which only fueled Hermione's growing distemper, not to mention her strong urge to beseech him to rethink his rationale.

_But_ why, _Hermione? How can you be so stuck on that name_, her ponderings slowly turned to another possibility, _especially when Harry and Ginny are expecting, too?_

After an early autumn wedding, Ginny had only gotten pregnant a month later, confirming what Mrs. Weasley had been griping about all along—that they "weren't wasting any time!" Unlike she and Severus, however, the Potters had opted out of finding out whether they were expecting a boy or a girl. If it was a girl...

_Surely, that's what they'll name her._ Hermione didn't need to hold a conversation with either of them to draw such a conclusion. _But would they mind if we named our daughter the same?_

_Stop it, Hermione. Severus isn't keen on it. You keep bringing it up and you'll only make him cross. Obviously, there's a painful history there that will always be present. You can't change it. Start thinking of other names, for Merlin's sake!_

"Hermione?" Startled by Severus's deep voice interrupting her contemplations, she blushed when she spotted him eying her with skepticism over the latest issue of _Potions Weekly_. "Something troubling you?"

"I... No," she answered a little too hastily.

"That won't work, Hermione," Severus reproached her with an acute scowl. "Out with it."

"It's nothing, honest!"

"Was it about what I just said regarding the name you like?"

"What? No."

"I meant no offense."

"No, I'm not upset about that, Severus."

"_Then what is it?_"

Hermione slumped back on the couch, curling her feet up beneath the throw on her lap. "You'll only get upset," she whispered, sounding almost pained.

"Will I?" Severus challenged, tossing his magazine aside and raising an eyebrow at her; his dark orbs drifted to her now propped up legs. "Your ankles are swollen."

Hermione peered up from her book again, confused. "What?"

Not reiterating his observance, Severus silently rose from his chair by the burning fireplace in their cozy sitting room, strutting a few feet to where the witch had spread herself out and conjured a large pillow behind her back and head. He also snatched up the heavy book from her hands, earning a cry of protest that he immediately hushed her for.

Taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch, Severus gingerly ran his fingers over her bare legs and, without difficulty, draped them over his lap, the light in Hermione's eyes catching what the wizard's secretive intentions were. Hermione instantly fell back against the couch and relaxed, enjoying the special treatment of Severus's large hands rubbing over her aching ankles and exposed feet.

"Oh, Merlin," she moaned, sinking her head back into her pillow, "that feels fantastic..."

"You need to get off your feet more," he groused, his voice not containing its bite, instead rather soft and gentle; it made Hermione smile as she snuggled underneath the throw and the toasty heat emanating from the fireplace.

"If it means getting less foot rubs from you, then I'll never concede."

A few hairs fell into Severus's eyes. He merely smirked at her and continued his ministrations, seemingly enjoying providing such an indulgence.

"Would you like to tell me now what's bothering you?" he inquired quietly after a few moments of uninterrupted meditation, in which Hermione only sunk further and further into a doze.

Hermione fluttered her eyelashes, fresh concern crossing her face. "You _really_ want to know?"

"Would I ask if I didn't?"

"Will you promise not to fly off the handle?"

Severus paused his thorough massaging, earning an appropriate whimper of protest from his witch. "Start talking."

"All right, fine," she snickered and re-situated her head comfortably against the enlarged pillow Severus had made for her. "It's about Lily..."

Severus halted again, eying her tentatively through narrowed eyes. "Lily?"

"The name..."

Severus heaved a weighty sigh, sensing what was coming. "What about it?"

"You've never really told me what troubles you so much about it, Severus. There are the obvious reasons, I know, but, well," Hermione bit her lip nervously, "it's in the past. She doesn't hold claim to the name. I thought...maybe..."

Hermione was relieved that Severus was acting so calm, but it didn't lower her apprehensions that he wasn't about to snap or become angry with her. His past was a turbulent subject, always a risk when bringing into a conversation. Hermione didn't fear or feel any pangs of jealousy regarding Lily anymore, knowing full well that Severus had let the redhead go. Yet, she still couldn't contend with his washed over response against the possibility of such a name for their firstborn.

"Hermione," Severus began with hesitation, "I will probably forever associate the name with her. That's not something I have any bearing over. It's subconsciously engraved into my mind. I don't want our daughter competing with a dead witch every time I look at her or say her name."

"Oh..."

"Does that upset you?"

"Not really, I just never thought that it was like that for you..."

Severus resumed kneading her right foot, pressing his thumbs carefully into her arch and working out the kinks. "I automatically associate the name with pain, Hermione," he explained softly. "I've never known it otherwise, with the exception being when Lily...was alive."

"I understand, love." Hermione titled her head, giving him a considerate look over. "Is the pain maybe because you haven't properly said your goodbyes?"

Severus was visibly unraveled. "What do you mean?" he pressed with an air of insinuation. "I _have_ dealt with Lily—"

"That's not what I mean, Severus. I _know_ you've dealt with Lily's death, but, as you've just said, her name alone still brings you pain to hear. Perhaps you need to take a more aggressive stance."

"What on earth—"

"Why not say a proper farewell?" Hermione found herself suggesting, perking up at the idea formulating in her head. "October 31st is coming up... Maybe that would be a good time to..."

Severus averted his gaze from her eager eyes for a moment, puzzling over what he knew she was suggesting: a visit to Lily's grave. He hadn't been back there since the last year of the Second War, when he thought he had lost Hermione to gossip and hearsay and a misunderstanding of his intentions. Hermione had never told him about the wreath she had spotted in Godric's Hollow, but Severus's suspicions were always there that she might have seen it. Miraculously, however, Hermione had never questioned him on it, illustrating once again her undeniable faith in him, a feat which never failed to leave him awestruck.

"I suppose," Severus drawled, surprising himself at his own resolve, "it might not be such a bad idea..." Severus forced himself to meet his wife's face, further stunned by the understanding he found in the depths of her eyes. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Would I suggest it, love, if it bothered me?" Hermione nudged his thigh with her free foot. "And anyway, I think it might be good for... For me, too. I've held onto some unnecessary resentment towards your friend that I need to let go. I think we could both use the trip to Godric's Hollow..."

The two remained silent for a few minutes, acknowledging the trip quietly and in their own way, before Severus put forth a question of his own. "Why are you so hung up on the name, Hermione? I would have thought," Severus put his next words delicately, "it wouldn't be to your liking, regardless."

"I... I would have thought so, too, at one time," she confessed, projecting a soft smile his way. "But, for one, I _do_ rather enjoy the name, even if I subconsciously associate it with her quite a bit myself. I thought it might actually... Um, well..."

"What?"

Fighting the urge to bite down on her lip again, Hermione whispered, "Bring us closure, you and I."

Severus merely arched an eyebrow but didn't offer up a response, his mind evidently drifting somewhere else. Far away, from what Hermione could gather. Would he think the notion silly? Was she a fool to think she could really name their firstborn Lily? She and Severus had agreed to Eileen for their daughter's middle name, but Lily?

"Lily Eileen," she murmured aloud, not aware of doing so until after the fact.

Severus met her remark with a peculiar look, one that was quite calm and not abrasive or upsetting. "Indeed," he purred back, catching Hermione's undivided attention.

"What do you think? I sort of like it..."

"Yes," Severus nodded slowly, a strange sort of frown still etched across his face. "Maybe..."

* * *

"What are you thinking?" Hermione chanced asking, glancing at Severus sidelong as they stood silently before Lily Potter's gravestone, where a wreath from Harry and Ginny had already been placed sometime earlier in the day.

It was quite a chilly evening—cold enough to beckon snow, though none had arrived yet. Hermione wrapped her oversized coat more snugly around herself, which she had magically enhanced to suit her pregnant belly. Severus remained firm and quiet at her side, simply staring at the grave for a time without any hint of emotion to what he was looking at; but Hermione knew better.

"I'm sorry, love," Hermione whispered after a stifling interlude of silence. "Was this a horrible idea? I thought... That it might help us, saying goodbye. I thought maybe—"

"Hermione, please," Severus issued in a hushed tone, his voice as chilly as the autumn breeze.

"I'm sorry, I'll... I'll just wait for you over there by the gate."

Hermione spun around and tread away towards the entrance to the cemetery. She wasn't surprised when Severus didn't follow, but she couldn't be sure that this whole venture to seek closure was now such a brilliant idea after all. Severus had severely withdrawn as soon as they set foot on the grounds. He had insisted, rather demandingly, that they Floo to a nearby pub rather than Apparate for the safety of Hermione and the baby. Hermione lapsed into silence at his side, allowing him to lead the way into the small graveyard next to the church, where they had stood for nearly an hour, barely speaking or uttering a word.

Hermione had grown distressed by the prolonged silence. Quietly, she had said her peace, and felt marginally better after getting everything out in the open—at least in her mind. She couldn't say the same for Severus, however, but then, his attitude all day had been somewhat perplexing.

Hermione hadn't been standing by the gate long when, not even five minutes later, Severus came strolling over to her with his hands in his coat pockets. She offered him a feeble smile, unsure if this attempt at closure had been a positive step for Severus or a severe miscalculation on her part.

After staring at her intently for a time, Severus leaned down and gently kissed her forehead, breathing in a deep whiff of her vanilla scent, his mouth lingering upon her skin long enough for Hermione to close her eyes. "Are you all right?" she risked asking, her voice careful but strained.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation, giving Hermione enough incentive to look into his eyes with some returning confidence.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he answered, bringing a gloved hand to her chin. "There's no need. You needn't worry."

"Oh... All right..."

"You were right."

Hermione blinked hard. "What?"

"That I needed to say a proper goodbye to Lily. I think it helped me get over some of my lingering doubts."

"Oh?" Hermione's smile spread wider. "I'm happy to hear it."

"And you?" Severus intensive eyes scanned hers, this time without any trace of melancholy or lingering doubts, so much so that she was nearly rendered speechless.

"I said my peace to Lily and can safely say I feel a lot better now."

"I'm glad."

With another warmhearted smile, Hermione brought her head to Severus's chest and wrapped her arms as much around him as her swollen belly would allow. "You know," she said lightly, once Severus's own arms were locked around her back, "one of these days we're not going to be able to hold each other properly."

Faint, low chuckling followed her teasing; Severus brushed his lips against the top of Hermione's mound of hair, closing his eyes against the stillness of the night, the peaceful isolation of this place, and the quiet farewells they had each given to the witch who had been so much a fixture in both of their lives, for good or ill.

"Thank you for bringing me here," Hermione heard Severus purr close to her face, causing her breath to catch at the back of her throat.

"Don't mention it."

"You know I haven't carried any lingering feelings for Lily, right?"

His voice sounded unusually heightened, almost nervous, as he latched onto her as tightly as possible without crushing her. Hermione found herself smiling against his chest, snuggling in closer, one hand outlining a handful of buttons near his cravat.

"Of course I know, Severus," she reassured him with another gentle peck to his chest, as if he might feel her kiss through his coat. "I've never doubted you."

"It was only guilt; guilt for past transgressions..."

"And for the pain the reminder of it brought at hearing her name."

"Yes..."

Hermione's breath tickled his chin, her lips mapping their way up to his jaw line. "And now?" she innocently questioned, loving the weight of his touch easing into hers.

"And now..." he returned just as delicately. "There will always be some underlying guilt, I'm afraid."

"Of course... I don't expect you to miraculously change overnight, Severus."

"But I do think the name..."

"Yes?" Hermione's lips curled against Severus's cheek, her pecking increasing once she detected the traces of a handsome smile emerging on the wizard's own lips.

"Lily Eileen?" he whispered, expressing their daughter's potential name with understated awe but also an acceptance.

"Yes, love?"

"I... I think it _would_ be an appropriate form of closure, but I want us to be absolutely sure of one thing, my dear."

Hermione paused her swarm of kisses, rearing back to eye him properly. "And what's that?"

"Our daughter shouldn't represent some stationary memory. If she's to be a Lily, then she should be _our_ Lily and no one else's."

Giving him a thoughtful look over, Hermione drew onto her tip toes to capture the man's lips, deeply moved by his sentiments and change of heart. "I quite agree," she concurred with a softer smile, one that her husband met.

"Very well."

There was a light pressing upon her stomach. Hermione's hand eased over Severus's arm to meet the warm hand now touching their unborn child, a late February or early March baby set to meet her parents at, most likely, the first signs of winter's thaw.

"Lily Eileen it is then..."

* * *

**A/N #2: My apologies to any Meghans out there. I have _nothing _personally against the name. Considering I was called Meghan for my first three days of life before my father insisted that it be changed_, _the "disease" comment comes from him, not me.  
**

**I want to take the time to thank you, the readers. While I appreciate any of you who've bothered to read this story of mine, I need to give _special thanks_ to those who've taken the time to say something about it. It's nice knowing when your hard work may have connected with a few people out there, and that means an awful lot to hear. _My deepest thanks to those of you who've left feedback, because your words are carrying this story through to its conclusion more than you probably realize..._  
**


	70. Epilogue: Five Years Later

**A/N: Here it is, the final installment—and on a certain snarky Potions professor's birthday, no less! Seems like the perfect way to end this story. I'll save my sappy closing remarks for the end. *sniff*  
**

**_Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader, Brittny._**

******Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.**

* * *

**Epilogue: Five Years Later**

"Daddy!" a little voice shouted somewhere nearby; Severus startled but otherwise kept his eyes shut. "Daddy! Wake up! Time to wake up!"

"Shhh, Surina," Hermione's soothing tone could be heard as well, just as a pair of small hands pressed down upon Severus's back. "Daddy's not awake yet. Let him sleep."

"But he promised!"

"He will, Surina. Now, come away and we'll make breakfast."

The little girl named Surina, however, did not adhere to her mother's instructions. She reared over Severus and patted his disheveled mound of black hair, spread out over his pillow, with one of her tiny hands.

"Daddy?" Severus let out a sleep-filled moan, though it sounded more like a growl; it was a noise Surina was accustomed to hearing, however, and got her snickering happily, as well as someone else. "Daddy doesn't want to get up yet."

Suddenly, another lightweight body hopped onto the bed on Severus's opposite side. The dark wizard didn't so much as flinch, even as whoever it was came crawling towards him in a playful manner of wanting to catch the former spy off his guard. His keen senses detected a wonderful, comforting scent, one that was entirely different from Hermione's. The natural aroma of a small child penetrated his senses, and it was no longer Surina's alone.

"Daddy," said the second little being, who reached out and gently prodded his shoulder, hidden beneath a pile of blankets. "Daddy, wake up!"

"I told you," Surina giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

The second child tried again but was quickly told to desist by her mother. "Lily," Hermione quietly chided her eldest, "don't do that. He's tired."

"But we're going to Diagon Alley! Daddy needs to get ready!"

"Not until after breakfast. Your sister isn't up yet either."

"Can't we get them _both_ up?" Surina whined.

"No, girls. That's enough now."

"But we want to go, Mummy!"

"We _will_, Lily. Once Daddy and Hailey are up, we'll get going."

"But—"

"_Enough_, you two," Severus interrupted in a low, drawn out mumble, though his body didn't move from its comfortable, slouched position. "Merlin, I'm up, all right? _I'm up._"

"Daddy's up! Daddy's up!" Lily squealed, and soon Surina was joining in on the commotion.

Some hopping up and down on both sides of the bed caused Severus to groan into his pillow, though he was secretly smitten by the children's sweet laughter that echoed all around him; not that anyone would ever suspect the surly wizard to _enjoy_ such a disruption to his sleep.

The smile that formed on his face was obscured by his curtain of long, lank hair. Rolling onto his back and forcing his eyes open, Severus was overtaken by two round faces that closed in on him, polar opposites in appearance but with a smile that connected them as sisters.

The eldest, Lily, age five, was pale like Severus, with dark brown eyes and wavy, chestnut hair that stopped at her shoulders. Wearing a bright yellow nightgown, she was every bit the essence of sweetness—the equivalent to a tranquil summer's eve. She reached out and gently touched Severus's shoulder to ensure he wasn't about to close his eyes again.

The younger of the two, Surina, was clearly her father's daughter in every sense. Raven-colored, straight hair stopped just below her chin. The four-year-old's pallid complexion matched his own, only, to everyone she came in contact with, she was a handsome little girl—striking, yet not at all unsightly as the professor had deemed himself to be in his youth.

"Hi, Daddy!" the two girls greeted him with beaming smiles, leaning in to smother Severus with hugs and affection, whilst Hermione sat back in their bed, watching them all with stifled laughter.

"Morning," came his muffled grumble of a reply, his face hidden by a mixture of bronze and black hair.

Their infectious laughter filled the room, and Severus received several delicate pecks to his cheeks—kisses that would melt the moodiest, most miserable of men, including him. Severus was hardly perturbed, however. Such assaulting greetings had become his morning ritual whenever he was home, and he wasn't about to will them to stop.

"C'mon, Daddy!" Surina urged into his ear. "Get up!"

The two sisters pulled on his arms, grinning down at Severus as he reached out to pinch their cheeks, sending them both into louder fits of laughter. "Merlin, you two are obnoxious little buggers," he snarled, though it was underlined by a gentle humor only Hermione and his children could understand. "I'm up, _all right?_"

Lily tried to tug on Severus's arm again, though she barely made an impact in moving her father an inch. "Diagon Alley, Daddy! You need to get ready! _Up!_"

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, suppressing a yawn behind a cupped hand.

"All right, you two," Hermione chimed in, coming into view next to her husband. "Let's go get breakfast ready. How about some blueberry pancakes?"

"Yes! Yes!" they both squealed in unison at the top of their lungs; Severus winced at their high pitches, particularly from ones so small, that seemed to reverberate off the walls and shake the bed. "Mmm, yummy! Yes, Mummy! _Yes!_"

There was some minor shuffling along the edge of the bed, and then two pairs of dainty feet hit the floor running at full speed. Their voices echoed down the hallway to the kitchen, leaving Severus and Hermione momentarily alone and in a rare moment of quietude.

Severus sighed heavily and buried his face into his pillow once more. "Those two couldn't be any bloody louder if they were a herd of elephants."

"Hey, watch it, you." A sportive smack to his buttocks informed Severus he wouldn't be going back to sleep any time soon; he smirked into his pillow, though his eyes had fallen shut. "You wanted them, you got them!"

"Mmm, indeed. Thank you for reminding me."

"They wanted to get you up an hour ago," Hermione tittered softly, looming over him with her warm weight pressed against his back. Her fingers brushed gently through his hair, weaving strands away from his lax face. "You're lucky I got them to wait _this_ long."

"In that case, I should thank you a second time..."

"Well, considering how much you were tossing and turning last night, I figured you needed an extra hour or two."

Severus let out another deep sigh, sensing a familiar pair of arms wrap around his torso, one leg intertwined through his. "Did I keep you awake last night?" he muttered, which earned him a kiss to the cheek and more snuggling against his neck.

"Only a little," came her soft reply in his ear.

"I'm sorry..."

"There's no need, love." Severus stifled another yawn and felt the covers being drawn up to his face. "Go back to sleep," Hermione encouraged in a hushed, supportive tone.

"They'll be back in here in less than two minutes, you know..."

Hermione giggled agreeably and began rubbing his back in a circular motion, aware that his weight was sinking further into hers, his entire body aching for sleep. "I'll try and keep them out of here for another half hour or so, how's that?"

"Mmm. I wish you luck," Severus sleepily replied, nearly sound asleep again.

There was only a minute or two of undisturbed silence, broken only by the occasional giggle from the girls down the hallway. Then, unexpectedly, a squeak of a voice they recognized suddenly called out into the room, "Mummy? Daddy?" and Hermione shot up from her spot next to Severus, her jerky movement, as well as the miniature voice, disrupting Severus from his doze.

"Told you," the wizard issued through another heavy yawn; Hermione found herself laughing, her hand returning to massaging his back.

"Good morning, Hailey. I didn't hear you come down the stairs. Getting out of bed on our own, are we?"

"Yes, Mummy!"

There was some faint pitter-pattering along the wooden floorboards, and Hermione shifted away from Severus to hoist their littlest onto the bed. The third Snape instantly scooted in between her parents, curling up at Severus's back. He could sense her dainty fingers lightly touching his back and shoulder, and then her enchanting greeting followed.

"Hi, Daddy."

Slowly, Severus rolled over facing her, his normally harsh mouth slightly turned upwards. "Hi, munchkin..."

Severus pried his eyes half way open and found a mound of bushy hair nearly engulfing his face, as well as a pair of petite arms drawn across his chest to issue a proper hug. Her head was resting comfortably against his shoulder, her one hand clutching a favorite, ragged-looking teddy bear.

"You sleep well, little one?" he asked her quietly, to which she nodded against his skin.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl."

"We go to Day-gone Alley?"

"Yes, sweetie," Hermione scrunched her fingers through her daughter's curls that were a replica of her own, "once we've all had breakfast." The sudden loud clamor of pots and pans echoing from the kitchen shot Hermione up from the bed a second time. "I better go see what that ruckus is all about."

"I think they're making breakfast," Severus tried to laugh but was overtaken by another yawn. Warm lips abruptly pressed themselves to his before moving away just as quickly, the clanking sounds from down the hall intensify.

"I fear you're right."

Hermione threw on her slippers, matching robe, and bolted out of the room, leaving Severus alone with Hailey, who was still curled up against him for warmth, her fragrant, childlike scent filling his lungs as he folded his arms around her and rested his eyes again with his head leaning against hers. Her unkempt curls tickled his chin but for some time she didn't move. He was on the verge of sleep again when Hailey spoke up.

"Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"You all right?"

Severus's eyelids flickered open, surprised by the unexpected question. "Of course I am, sweetheart. Why?"

"I had bad dream."

"Oh?" Severus pressed the tot to his chest, feeling her little fingers latch onto his bare skin. "Another nightmare?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Severus forced a passive-sounding voice. "About me?"

"Yes..."

"And what happened in your dream?"

"You were sick. You wouldn't wake up."

"Wake up?" Severus stiffened, and not just at the unsettling image of what the little girl had dreamt, but also at the misery he discovered in her sweet-tempered voice.

"I tried waking you, but you not wake, Daddy. You kept sleeping. You not answer me."

"I see..."

Hailey snuggled in closer, burying her round face in the crook of his neck, her teddy bear brushing against his jaw as she latched onto him, afraid to let go. Severus's lips swept over her forehead and he embraced the toddler as much as he could—a small being who, to his astonishment, held nothing but love for him and didn't shrink from his touch, unlike most.

"Well, it was just a nightmare, Hailey. It's all right now."

"You wake for me, Daddy?" her slight voice whispered into his ear. "If I need you?"

Severus swallowed hard at the actual magnitude of what the child was asking, completely unaware as to _what_ exactly she was requesting of him. "I will _always_ wake for you, little one..."

"Good!"

Squeezing and pecking her brow a second time, Severus eased himself up from the bed, wincing at the stiffness and small aches in his limbs, to hoist Hailey carefully onto her feet on the floor. "No more of this," he insisted in a considerate tone. "Go help your sisters make breakfast, all right?"

"Yes, Daddy!"

Severus patted her behind and the little Hermione look-alike scurried out of the room, clutching her teddy bear with her unruly curls swaying back and forth down the hallway before disappearing out of sight. Severus, however, didn't move but remained seated in bed, his eyes heavy and puffy from too little sleep the night before.

_'You were sick. You wouldn't wake up,'_ his mind kept repeating his youngest's unnerving remarks.

Severus shook his head, willing himself to awaken. Feeling tired and run down was a part of his daily life, but nothing to worry or lose composure over. Throwing back the covers, Severus swung his legs over the side of the bed, where he paused to catch his bearings. A handful of phials were propped on his nightstand, and Severus took each tonic, pausing afterwards to listen to the faint chatter and laughter trickling down the hallway and into the bedroom.

If nostalgia had taught the sharp wizard anything, it was that life had a way of throwing him a curve ball. Many, in fact. At one time, life for Severus Snape had been fairly predictable: he would maneuver the dangerous path of a double agent, trekking cautiously between two very different, but equally perilous, worlds, and, more than likely, _not_ outlive the outcome of all his painstaking efforts to see the Boy Who Lived vanquish the Dark Lord.

_No._

By all accounts, Severus _shouldn't_ be alive, and, even now, he was consciously aware of the rare luck he had snatched up in recent years. He wasn't supposed to see the aftermath of the Second War, he wasn't supposed to live to see the wizarding world renewed, he wasn't supposed to make love to Hermione in the dead of winter all those years ago or ask her to be his wife or have three beautiful, healthy children...

_No._

Severus Snape wasn't supposed to possess any of this, and yet, miraculously—somehow—_he had survived_. He had withstood Nagini's bites, outsmarted the venom that, to this very day, still threatened his longevity and for which no cure had been found, and had been fortunate enough to see his wife give birth three times over, not to mention watch his children grow. He continued to fall more deeply in love with Hermione, to argue and make up with her, to give and receive, to wake up next to his wife most mornings—at least in the summer months and on the weekends during the school year—and, one of his favorite activities, have her fall asleep in the safety of his arms.

Severus couldn't help but ponder, as he so often did on mornings such as these, how lucky a wizard he was. _I'm still here_, his conscience reminded him.

That didn't mean there weren't moments of doubt to be found. He still had episodes of poor health, a few of which had landed him in St. Mungo's, but he had miraculously survived those, too.

_Yes, I'm still here..._

"Daddy?" Severus glanced over at the open doorway, where little Hailey stood in her baby blue nightgown, her teddy bear still clutched in one hand. "Mummy says breakfast almost ready."

"Is it?" Severus smirked, to which Hailey nodded emphatically and her static curls, larger than her head, expanded.

Severus eased himself carefully out of bed and wrapped a black robe around himself. Hailey sprinted over and outstretched her arms, asking silently for her father to pick her up. It was a simple act that sometimes caught the misunderstood wizard off his guard, even now. How any child wouldn't cringe or shy away at the very sight of him was beyond Severus's comprehension, but as long as his children didn't do so, and he prayed they never would, he would willingly oblige them however they saw fit—within reason.

Gingerly, and being careful not to set himself off balance, Severus brought Hailey into his arms, grimacing from the jolts of pain that shot up his legs and chest; but he forced his mouth shut, not wanting to alarm his daughter or let her suspect anything being awry. She didn't appear to have noticed. Her teddy bear was situated close to Severus's chest, her opposite arm looped around his neck.

"Daddy?" she asked casually as Severus strolled down the hallway, cradling her in his arms; the tot always felt safe when her father bundled her close. "Can I watch you brew your e-lisers?"

"Of course you can, sweetheart. Later."

"I can help?"

"We'll see."

"I wants to be a Potions Master!"

Severus shot her a satisfied smile. "You mean a Potions _Mistress_, my dear."

Hailey curled her nose, confused. "What's that?"

"It's what a lady Potions-maker calls herself."

"Oh... Potions Mist-ess," she tried to formulate the word on her tongue. "I be smart, just like you!"

"I daresay you'll be _smarter_ than me, Hailey."

"Will I, Daddy?"

"I think you will."

"Will you teach me?"

"Of course, little one."

"You - You promise?"

Severus eyed his daughter over curiously once they reached the kitchen, where Lily and Surina were hovering over Hermione at the stove, standing on chairs to watch their mother cook and perform multiple tasks at once with her wand. Hailey was wearing a pout that Severus didn't quite understand; or didn't want to. The sudden urgency in her voice was also perplexing.

"I promise, Hailey."

"All right..."

Severus nudged her nose, which drew out her lovable smile once more. "You believe me, don't you?"

Hailey brought her face to his and tried to give him a proper hug, though her arms couldn't quite reach around his neck. "Yes, Daddy!" she affirmed by planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "Yes! I believes you!"

* * *

Later that morning, the Snapes made their way down the cramped, crowded, cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, Hailey in Severus's arms, his and Hermione's free hands clutching Surina, who was wedged in between them and trying to hop over certain stones, with Lily on Hermione's opposite side. Though the family still received the occasional stop and stare routine from passersby, for the most part, they were left undisturbed to mosey about the various shops, enjoying the morning at their own pace and leisure.

Hermione was grateful the girls weren't of the age yet to start questioning the occasional critical looks that came their way—their inquiries wouldn't come for another several years—and was relieved that no one saw fit to say something outright. At least, not with the children in clear view. She and Severus had been ruthlessly subjected to the lesser hospitalities of the wizarding world in the years that followed, but, thus far, never in the presence of their children.

As they left a tea shop, where the girls picked out individual selections of sweet teas and cakes, Hermione suggested they venture next to the park, a frequented Muggle spot not far from home, which held plenty of privacy so that they wouldn't be disturbed. The girls echoed their excitement at their mother's idea. After Flooing back to the house first to drop off their purchases, the family then headed back out into the overcast autumn day, bundled in their warmest clothes and with the girls' brooms cut to size in tow.

Severus and Hermione strolled a ways behind their children, who frolicked on ahead, running down a wooded pathway that led to the park. Hailey lagged behind her sisters, fighting all the while to keep up, but they were all cackling and hollering merrily as they scampered through the leaves, kicking them up into the air.

"I can't believe tomorrow's Sunday," Hermione found herself frowning, catching Severus's glance out of the corner of his eye.

"I'll stay as long as I can."

"You'd better." Hermione shot him a warmhearted smile, taking one of his ungloved hands in hers, which was naturally cold to the touch. She quickly brought it to her lips. "You're freezing," she whispered, blowing lightly on his exposed knuckles.

"I'm fine."

"Here."

Hermione fussed and stepped in front of him, removing her red, woolen scarf, which she flung around Severus's neck, unaware at first of the thoughtful look he was giving her. After bundling the scarf to her liking, Hermione's eyes peered up into his, met by a slight toss of his head when their gazes met.

"You're ridiculous," he scuffed, drawing attention to the scarf around his neck. "And I consider this a grave violation."

"What? Gryffindor colors?"

"Yes," he snarled, curling his upper lip to illustrate his point.

Hermione swatted his chest and stifled her laughter as best she could. "Actually, I think you wear red rather well, love; makes you very debonair-looking."

"Don't be a ninny." He easily pulled her into him, allowing their noses to touch with Hermione continuing to giggle in his arms. "There is something wrong with you, as I've often said."

"Oh, bollocks."

"But now _you'll_ be cold."

Hermione merely brought her arms around his back and pressed herself to his chest, feeling the warmth of his arms draw more securely around her, too. Hermione shut her eyes and allowed herself to be swaddled in her husband's safe embrace, the edge of her lips curling into a smile.

"I'm fine," she whispered, and snuggled into him. "A childless moment. We need to hang onto these."

"Mmm, yes..."

Hermione rubbed her cheek against a few round clasps on his coat. "What was Hailey asking you?"

"Pardon?"

"This morning, when you came into the kitchen... She looked upset."

Severus wanted to go stiff but, instead, tightened his hold around her instead, bringing his mouth to her forehead. "Nothing," he tried to reassure but suspected it wouldn't get him anywhere.

"Nothing?"

"Another bad dream."

"Oh..." Hermione knew of those, and her own grip on her wizard intensified. "I wish she'd stop having those. Poor thing."

"She will."

There was a short pause, followed by Hermione piping up, "Do you ever regret..."

"Regret what?"

Hermione blushed a little, and not due to the chilly autumn breeze. "Regret that we didn't try...for a fourth?"

"Still thinking of that fourth one in the mirror?"

There was no agitation in the dark wizard's reply, only mere curiosity. "Yes," Hermione confessed quietly. "I think of her an awful lot..."

"As do I."

Hermione reacted by tugging lightly on his back. "Why do you suppose she was standing much further back from the others?"

"I don't know." Severus grazed her brow several times with his lips, feeling her gently lean into his caresses. It was a discussion they had had often, usually out of solace. "Perhaps it illustrates uncertainty. Uncertainty as to whether or not it would have been the right thing to do..."

Hermione understood that remark all too well. After sustaining a difficult pregnancy with Hailey, and also in light of Severus's own looming health problems, they had decided against having any more children. Severus had been adamant even before they left the hospital with newborn Hailey that a fourth was "out of the question."

_"I nearly lost you!" he had snapped at her when she tried to play off the dangers at the time. "That's it, Hermione! No more!"_

_Later, Hermione had continued bringing the little tot up, but sporadically, just to see if Severus's firm sentiments had waned. Did he still consider that fourth child in the mirror? Would he always remain entirely opposed?_

_"Yes and yes," had been his answer. The matter was resolved and Hermione, though with reluctance, had the probability of a fourth pregnancy wiped from her body indefinitely. She never told Severus how she strolled away from that gut-wrenching experience in tears, even before the act was performed..._

But her Sytherin was cunning, and, she suspected, probably already knew. And felt guilty as hell. That fourth little girl—with the bouncy, black curls and an adorable, breathtaking smile—would never come to fruition. Even if their fourth child had been a son and not a daughter, the reality was so: there would be no fourth child in the Snapes' future.

And yet, Hermione felt nearly complete. She had three wonderful little girls, after all—all healthy and happy and unique—as well as a loving husband, a brilliant wizard so few understood for his true nature but herself. A man who was, beneath that cold exterior, probably the most loving and thoughtful individual she had ever encountered.

_Yes_, Hermione convinced herself, and not with all that much difficulty; not now._ I_ am _complete..._

After a moment of listening to their children cackling in the distance, the autumn breeze whipping against their skin, and the crunching of fallen leaves cascading all about them, Hermione gazed up at Severus, and he down at her, rich caramel meeting charcoal-colored irises. Hermione extended her neck, wanting nothing more than to kiss away the lingering reservations formulating in her head, and easily found herself swept up in their embrace, thoroughly urged on by Severus's earnest response. Severus's thin lips kissed her back, his mouth opening itself to her, wanting nothing more than to devour her whole.

And she loved it.

Caught up in their rare moment of nothing but each other's company, their lips free to work one another's into a stupor, the couple hardly heard their children's repeated calls, until one of them suddenly tugged on both of their coats. Their mouths abruptly parted, their eyesight met by the littlest Snape member, who was staring up at them curiously. Her shaggy hair spread out at her shoulders, whipping and unfurling against the wind.

"Come!" she ordered, smiling up at them both, her voice eager-sounding as she held her broom in hand. She slipped her opposite hand through Severus's and pulled him forward, urging Hermione, too, to follow.

"I believe that's your cue," Hermione laughed, allowing Severus to be lured on ahead of her, watching as the black-haired wizard and the petite child with the oversized coat and hair strolled forward hand in hand, Severus crouching to keep up with her eager steps. Lily and Surina were hovering on their brooms just beyond, watching as the rest of their family approached the abandoned playground they so often frequented together.

Hermione found her stroll slowing as she approached the rest of her family. She held back, watching them all meditatively for a time—Lily and Surina laughing gaily as they tried to out-hover each other on their brooms, Severus grasping Hailey's broom as she took off, making sure it stayed low and in his control, though he was appeasing the little one's demands to fly "higher" and "higher" like her sisters.

Years ago, Hermione would never have fathomed where her life would end up. She didn't see the surly professor when she looked at Severus now—not the nasty, mean-spirited 'Bat of the Dungeons,' who had, at one time, seemed to loathe everyone, including her. That man wasn't recognizable anymore; not after what Hermione had discovered lurking beneath the surface, behind the mask of indifference and aggression.

Looking back on her life to this very moment, however, Hermione couldn't imagine it playing out any other way. _What if you had never pushed to get to know Severus?_ Hermione often pondered as the years passed, just as she was now on this pleasant autumn's day. _What if you had never bothered to scratch beneath the surface to discover the _real_ Severus Snape? _Hermione already knew the answer, and it made her smile lovingly._ You would have discovered him anyway, one way or another. It wasn't just mere anger that earned you a detention that day you confronted him, Hermione._

_No... You wanted to get to know Severus for much longer than that..._

"Mummy!" Lily's high-pitched squeal interrupted her thoughts. "Mummy! Daddy's making Hailey go higher than us! Help us!"

"Oh, is he?"

"Rubbish," he snarled, reaching out to give Lily and Surina more aggressive boosts with a wave of his hand, to which they screeched with delight. "Inch forward and bend your legs properly."

"We _are_, Daddy!" both girls giggled.

"Then you'll just have to try harder."

"That's right," Hermione stalked over to join Severus at his side, watching her daughters all hovering individually, though not out of hers or Severus's reach. "You have to work to get what you want."

"Higher, Daddy!" Hailey squeaked, and Lily and Surina demanded the same of Hermione.

"Higher, Mummy! _Please!_ Higher!"

Severus eased an arm around her shoulder and she around his torso. "So much for your pep talk," he snuffed in her ear. Hermione smiled and met his face for another private, tenderly-rendered kiss.

_Yes_, Hermione repeated to herself, unaware of Severus echoing the same sentiment as well, _I_ am _very much complete..._

* * *

**A/N #2: The End or The Beginning, depending on how you look at it. **

**_Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed, favorite'd, and/or put this story and/or me on your Alerts!_ Your interest and feedback carried me through this process more than you'll ever know, and I'm eternally grateful to all of you who took the time to invest in such a lengthy WIP, as well as to any who may stumble across the Prequel in the future. I hope this story moved you in some way, that it made you think, and/or that you enjoyed the ride as much as I enjoyed sharing it. **

**The _Unquestionable Love_ saga will continue, though I'm unsure when or in what format it will happen; but future stories about the Snapes will pop up from time to time, so feel free to check my Profile for updates (_or—pssst!—put me on your Author Alert if you haven't!_) I look forward to sharing more _UL_ stories with you, and it's all because of_ your_ interest and support, so thank you again!  
**

**_Until next time!  
_**


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